Swaraj and the Reluctant State 9780367616663, 9781003105923

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SWARAJ AND THE RELUCTANT STATE

SWARAJ and THE RELUCTANT STATE

Edited by

K.B. Saxena

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 selection and editorial matter, K.B. Saxena; individual chapters, the contributors; Council for Social Development, New Delhi and Aakar Books The right of K.B. Saxena to be identified as the author 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. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Co-published with Aakar Books, New Delhi. Print edition not for sale in South Asia (India, Sri Lanka, Nepal, Bangladesh, Pakistan or Bhutan) British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-0-367-61666-3 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-10592-3 (ebk) Typeset in Palatino by Arpit Printographers, New Delhi 110092

Contents

Foreword by Muchkund Dubey Preface Introduction

ix xvii 1

PART I – GANDHI: THOUGHT AND IMPACT 1. Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions for Dalit Liberation P.S. Krishnan 2. Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence Ajay Gudavarthy 3. Ambedkar, Gandhi and the Questions of Social Justice Basanta Kumar Mallik 4. Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj in Popular Hindi Films Coonoor Kripalani 5. Human Rights, Human Development and Gandhi D. Jeevan Kumar 6. Popular Hindi Cinema as Gandhi’s Alter Ego: An Exploration in Respect of ‘Gandhi, My Father’ Dhananjay Rai 7. Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India: In Search of a Gandhian Antidote to Violence Sumit Mukherji

63 105 124

133 153

166

183

PART II – MARGINALISED GROUPS AND SWARAJ 8. Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation: Inadequate in Conception and Ineffective in Execution K.B. Saxena

207

vi Swaraj and the Reluctant State 9. Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal Tribes in India 243 Subir Rana 10. Rescuing Minority Rights with Gandhi’s Help 267 Riaz Ahmad 11. Socio-Political Dilemma of the Lucknow Muslim 273 Kim Chanwahn 12. The Women’s Movement in India: A Hundred Year History 282 Maithreyi Krishnaraj 13. Women Leaders in Panchayats are No Longer Afraid of Gram Sabha 291 Bidyut Mohanty 14. Swaraj: Learning from the Marginalised 305 Vidhya Das PART III – INTERNATIONAL PERSPECTIVES 15. Can Human Rights Civilise Capitalism? 315 Kate Nash 16. Alternative Visions of the Indigenous People’s Movement in Latin America: Reflections on Civilisation and Modernity 323 Monica Bruckmann 17. Satyagraha and Resilience: From Violence Prevention to Liberation 331 Rashid Ahmed, Kopano Ratele and Umesh Bawa 18. Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Scienceinformed, Critical Public Health Framework on Male Interpersonal Violence 348 Kopano Ratele, Shahnaaz Suffla, Sandy Lazarus and Ashley van Niekerk 19. Why the Wretched Kill in Democratic South Africa: Reflections on Rejuvenation and Reconstruction 374 Mohamed Seedat, Umesh Bawa and Kopano Ratele 20. Childhood Burn Injury: A Matter for Hind Swaraj? 389 Ashley van Niekerk 21. Development through Aid: Interpreting Social Development Indicators in Afghanistan 400 Masood Ahmed 22. Peace: Its Indices and Implications for Swaraj 409 Shahnaaz Suflla, Mohamed Seedat and Abdulrazak Karriem

Contents vii PART IV – SWARAJ IN ACTION 23. Swaraj, Democracy and Subaltern: Regional Dynamics of Agrarian India B.N. Prasad 24. The Politics and Poetics of Violence: The State and Marginalisation in Kashipur and Kalinganagar Rajakishor Mahana 25. Gram Swaraj: Experience of the Field Experiments in Remote Tribal Areas of Odisha Achyut Das 26. Implementing the ‘Hind Swaraj’ Vision: An Experiment at Navadarshanam, India Atmaram Saraogi 27. Recent Challenges to Gender Inequality and Gram-Swaraj Experiments for Sustainable Development: A Case Study of the District of Bankura Sujit Kumar Chattopadhyay List of Contributors

431

448

482

488

493 511

Foreword In February 2009, the Council for Social Development celebrated the centenary of the publication of Mahatma Gandhi’s seminal work Hind Swaraj, by organising an international seminar in collaboration with the India International Centre, New Delhi, the University of Delhi, the Jawaharlal Nehru University and the Jamia Millia Islamia. Among the foreign institutions collaborating in the seminar were the Institute of Social and Health Sciences, University of South Africa, Federal Flomenance University of Brazil, and Orfalea Center for Global & International Studies, University of California, Santa Barbara. More than 120 eminent Indian and foreign scholars and social activists participated in the seminar in which over 60 papers were presented. In this conclave, almost all the major themes explored by Mahatma Gandhi in Hind Swaraj were discussed in the context of the contemporary situation in India and globally. In his Message for the publication of the first English edition of this historic manifesto of mankind, by the Navajivan Publishing House, Ahmedabad in 1938, Mahatma Gandhi wrote “I might change the language here and there, if I had to re-write the booklet. But after the stormy 30 years through which I have since passed, I have seen nothing to make me alter the views expounded in it”. This statement is truer today after the lapse of nearly 80 years since then, when humankind has witnessed the worst forms of the manifestation of modern civilisation. One of the objectives of the seminar was to bring out 2-3 volumes of essays based on the papers presented at and the deliberations during it. We are happy to bring out this first volume under the title Swaraj and the Reluctant State which is around the theme of Swaraj, Social Justice, the State and the Marginalised. Another volume containing the edited version of papers on the textual interpretations of Hind Swaraj, the theoretical and philosophical dimensions of Swaraj and its relevance to meet the challenges of the 21 st centenary, particularly in the areas of world order, peace, culture and civilisation, is at an advanced stage of preparation. In Hind Swaraj, Mahatma Gandhi presents a comprehensive and

x Swaraj and the Reluctant State unsparing critique of modern civilisation based on the quest for accumulation of material wealth and political power, and pursuit of self and national aggrandisement at the cost of the interest of others. He then goes on to present an alternative vision of organising human society, encompassed in the concept of Swaraj defined as self-rule and self-reliance in the comprehensive sense of the term. The method of achieving this goal prescribed by Gandhiji is Satyagraha or passive resistance through the application of the soul-force. This calls for courage and fearlessness on a scale much higher than that required in the use of violence and waging of wars. In Hind Swaraj, Gandhiji has devoted a whole chapter and parts of several other chapters, to exposing the hollowness and the dangers of modern civilisation. He characterises it as “a civilisation only in name”. “Under it the nations are becoming degraded and ruined day by day”. “...there is no end to the victims destroyed in the fire of civilisation. Its deadly effect is that people come under its scorching flames believing it to be all good”. He emphatically forecasts the demise of this civilisation calling it “a nine days wonder” and “ephemeral”. He says: “This civilisation is such that one has only to be patient and it will be self-destroyed”. He makes a powerful case for discarding modern civilisation lock, stock and barrel with all its rules and norms, institutions like the Parliament and the Judiciary, and professionals running them, including lawyers and doctors practicing modern medicines. Today, the main features of modern civilisation are the untrammelled operation of the market forces, profit motive and competition involving a drive to forge ahead at the cost of others. While these features have brought about improvements in the living conditions of the relatively prosperous sections of human population, it has at the same time, led to mass scale violence and displacement and large scale immiseration and marginalisation of people. In spite of being on the brink for decades, this civilisation has somehow survived because of the prevalence even today of virtues inherited by mankind from their respective religions. According to Mahatma Gandhi, these virtues are of truth, non-violence and love. In Hind Swaraj, Gandhiji has quoted from the immortal saint poet Tulsidas who said that pity or love is the root of all religions and that it should not be discarded till the last breath. In the language used by Tuilsidas: Daya dharma ka mool hai, pap mool abhiman, Tulsi daya na chhadiye, jab lag ghatmain pran This volume deals with the phenomenon of marginalisation—its

Foreword xi roots, consequences and remedies. Mahatma Gandhi does not come to grips with the theme of marginalisation in Hind Swaraj. But throughout his life, the plight of the marginalised remained his major concern and he actively and unremittingly tried to bring about amelioration of their conditions. By the rules and conducts that he followed in his own life and prescribed for the inmates living in his Ashram, he set an example of how to solve some of the major problems faced by the marginalised groups, particularly those of untouchability, manual scavenging and imparting dignity to the work they did. In his Tryst with Destiny speech, Jawaharlal Nehru said that the ambition of Mahatma Gandhi was to “wipe every tear from every eye”. One of the most quoted observations of Mahatma Gandhi puts concern for the interest of the poorest and the weakest at the centre of an individual’s endeavour. In a note left by him, dated August 1947, Gandhiji said: “I will give you a talisman. Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man whom you may have seen, and ask yourself if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him. Will he gain anything by it? Will it restore to him the control over his own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to Swaraj for the hungry and spiritually striving millions? Then you will find your doubts and yourself melting away”.

Gandhiji has confessed to have come under the magical spell of John Ruskin’s thoughts in his book Unto This Last. He in fact paraphrased this book in Gujarati which was later published in English. Ruskin has made justice which includes affection, the touchstone of right and good things. He has said: “And all of us may know also that the consequences of justice will be ultimately the best possible both to others and ourselves”. He has added, “I have meant in the term justice to include affection—such affection as one may owe to another. All right relations between master and operative ultimately depends upon this”. The welfare of the marginalised came to be one of the main thrusts of the development objectives and activities of the government that was formed after India’s independence. This had been eloquently hinted in Nehru’s Tryst with Destiny speech in which he said, “The service of India means the service of the millions who suffer. It means the ending of poverty and ignorance and disease and inequality of opportunity.... This may be beyond us but as long as there are tears and suffering, so long our work will not be over”. The chapters included in this book, particularly its brilliant Introduction, deal with four marginalised groups i.e. the Dalits

xii Swaraj and the Reluctant State (Scheduled Castes), Adivasis (Scheduled Tribes), religious minorities (Muslims in particular) and women. The roots of marginalisation and the conditions of each of these marginalised groups are succinctly brought out in the Introduction. Whereas the marginalisation of the Dalits is rooted in social factors, particularly the caste-based hierarchical society of India, that of women is embedded in patriarchy. The marginalisation of the Muslims goes back to the historical factor of their descent from the dominant position during the early colonial period. The partition and the governments installed into power in the post-partition period which were dominated by the Hindu majority, led to their progressive disempowerment. So far as the Adivasis are concerned the state played a principal role in their marginalisation. The Constitution of India contains a comprehensive and bold vision for the elimination of the evils of marginalisation and improvement of the conditions of the marginalised. Under its Chapter on Fundamental Rights, the Constitution grants to each citizen, equality before law and equal protection of law, equality of opportunity in matters of public employment and prohibition of discrimination on the ground of religion, race, caste and sex. The Constitution also grants to religious minorities freedom to propagate their religions and establish and administer their own educational institutions. The Directive Principles of State Policy prescribe the provision, on a universalised non-discriminatory basis, of social goods like health, education, nutrition, and minimum wages. Finally, the Constitution provides for affirmative action consisting of reservations in legislatures, government jobs and government educational institutions, for the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes in order to enable them to get over the disabilities inherited from the past and thus be able to avail themselves of the Constitutional provision on equality of opportunity. These affirmative actions, however, do not cover either the Muslim minorities or women. But special institutional arrangements have been made and programmes and projects undertaken to improve their conditions and empower them. Over the past more than six decades, a whole edifice of legal provisions and policy measures have been put in place to give effect to the Constitutional provisions for dealing with the problem of marginalisation. These have been intended mainly for ensuring the safety and security of the marginalised groups, protecting them from discrimination, securing their basic rights, improving their socioeconomic conditions and enabling them to participate effectively in the development process. All the above efforts have not resulted in reducing in any significant measure, let alone eliminating, the handicaps suffered by the

Foreword xiii marginalised groups. As the Introductory chapter brings out, the members of these groups are still steeped in poverty and lack basic amenities of life. Their literacy levels are low, and health and nutrition conditions poor. They continue to remain trapped in unemployment and under-employment. They largely work in the informal sector which is characterised by low wages, uncertainty of work, hazardous working conditions and exploitation. Food insecurity still prevails most widely and acutely among these communities, particularly the Adivasis and the Dalits. They are still subjected to discrimination of various kinds and at different levels. There are also still frequent instances of atrocities against them. These communities face organised violence by members of the local dominant communities and their private armies. According to the Constitutional dispensations and the policy measures to give effect to them, the state is supposed to play the crucial role in protecting the marginalised groups against violence, discrimination and exploitation and provide them the means of livelihood and social services essential for dignified living. However, the state has failed in discharging its responsibilities towards these communities. None of the measures adopted by the state has really been designed for bringing about fundamental changes in the socioeconomic and political conditions of these groups. The measures have been gradualist and half-hearted. The state has failed to build the physical and institutional infrastructure, create the manpower resources and provide the required financial resources for carrying out even the half measures adopted by it. Despite their laudable purposes, the laws enacted in favour of the marginalised groups suffer from fundamental flaws and their implementation is by design rendered largely infructuous by the legislatures and bureaucracy who are basically committed to preserve the status quo and are inclined to display greater vigour when it comes to implementing laws and programmes intended to serve the interests of the privileged sections of the society. A major problem is the prevailing indifference at the societal level. There is hardly any initiative by political parties or the majority community to resist prejudices against the marginalised groups, reach out to them on a regular basis or set examples of justice and fair play by their personal behaviour. The civil society organisations through their campaigns and movements have played an important role in bringing about changes in the policies of the government in favour of the marginalised groups. They have provided crucial impetus in facilitating the passage through the Parliament, of such legislations as the Right to Information Act, Right to Education Act, Forest Rights

xiv Swaraj and the Reluctant State Act, Mahatma Gandhi Rural Employment Guarantee Act and the Social Security for Unorganised Workers Act. They have also contributed appreciably to social awareness and sensitisation essential for changing the situation on the ground. They have also been active on the front of the implementation of laws and policies in favour of the marginalised, through agitation and movements and through public interest litigations brought to the courts in India. But these have not made much of a dent on the situation. This is mainly because these organisations are weak and poorly funded. Several of them depend on the state for funding which uses this as a leverage for keeping them under leash or even using them for its own purpose. Recently there is a trend of the state clamping down on their movements and activities by the denial of funds and other prohibitive and punitive measures, when these do not suit its interest. The affirmative action mandated in the Indian Constitution has also not been very effective in practice. This does not apply to Muslims and women. The job quotas established in government departments and agencies under this provision for the Dalits and Adivasis have remained largely unfilled. The position is worse in establishments financially aided by the government, such as universities and technical institutions. In spite of repeated exhortations and demands, private sector establishments still remain immune to reservation. The limited opening for employment and empowerment provided by affirmative action to the marginalised groups has drastically shrunk due to the expansion of the market economy and withdrawal of the state from development activities after the adoption of the policy of full-fledged liberalisation in 1991. Special arrangements like scholarships, hostels and schools built and development programmes designed for these communities, have very limited impact. They like other measures, have suffered from conspicuous failure in implementation mainly because of the gross inadequacy of resources provided for them and the decline of the infrastructure required for their implementation. In fact, these special arrangements have been systematically used by the government to shun or keep on postponing the discharge of its obligation under the Constitution and the relevant laws, to universalise essential services like health and education, which has the potentiality of transforming the current unequal and discriminatory social and economic structures. The most conspicuous example is the Right to Education Act, 2009, intended to universalise elementary education. This is being sought to be replaced by special arrangements for groups pursuing identity politics, with no assurance that such arrangements would have a better prospect for implementation than those adopted in the past.

Foreword xv This volume contains, apart from the Introduction, 27 chapters on the theme of marginalisation set in the overall perspective of the Gandhian thought reflected in Hind Swaraj. It contains several case studies of social movements of the marginalised for securing their rights. It has also chapters dealing with the experience of their struggle in different parts of India as well as in Africa and Latin America, to combat various forms of violence, exploitation and domination, by the method of Satyagraha, the instrument prescribed by the Mahatma for gaining Swaraj. There are also several articles on the strategy to be adopted for providing to the marginalised groups their rightful position under the sun and tracing the history of movements for securing such rights. I congratulate Prof. K.B. Saxena for his painstaking effort in putting together this volume and writing the Introduction which contains the most comprehensive, succinct and brilliant treatment of the phenomenon of marginalisation that I have so far come across. I hope this volume would make a valuable contribution to rekindling and keeping alive interest in Swaraj and Satyagraha as the only vision and method left in the field to offer resistance and register dissent against injustice, exploitation and domination by using the method of nonviolence and truth which demands extraordinary courage and fearlessness and is based on the belief in the inherent goodness of mankind. I commend this volume to researchers and scholars, civil society organisations engaged in movements for securing justice for the marginalised groups and policy makers who are responsible for designing and implementing the required measures for this purpose. New Delhi February 2, 2017

Muchkund Dubey President Council for Social Development

Preface Mahatma Gandhi, during his return by ship from London to South Africa penned a small booklet titled Hind Swaraj between November 13-22, 1909 which was published in the Gujarati edition of the journal Indian Opinion the same year in two instalments and printed as a book in January, 1910 in Gujarati. Later, Gandhi himself translated it into English for his friend Kallenbach which was published as Indian Home Rule in March 1910. In this booklet, he presented his wide-ranging and yet stringent rigorous disquisition exposition of modern civilisation founded on the pursuit of accumulation of material wealth and political power for national aggrandisement at the cost of the interests of other the weaker sections of the populace people. He also developed herein his concept of Swaraj or self-rule and presented an alternative vision of organising human society on this basis. Swaraj was defined as his/her rule over himself or herself at the individual level and home rule or self-government at the political level. This vision of Swaraj could only be achieved through Satyagraha i.e., passive resistance which means application of soul force against physical coercion. While the book was essentially written for Indians in India rather than in South Africa, to demolish the ethical and political rationale of British rule, it has over the years attracted thinkers, scholars, political leaders, and social activists across the globe and still has contemporary relevance. Gandhi’s ideas in Hind Swaraj are presented in the form of a dialogue between the editor and an unnamed reader, in which Gandhi speaks through the editor. Hind Swaraj completed 100 years of its publication in English in 2009. The Council for Social Development commemorated this occasion by organising a three-day international seminar on February 12-14, 2009 at the India International Centre in New Delhi. A large number of scholars participated in it and a number of them presented papers on different themes encompassing Swaraj. It was decided to publish some of these papers in two volumes. The first of these volumes is now before the readers. It revolves around the theme of Swaraj, State and the Marginalised Groups.

xviii Swaraj and the Reluctant State Though Hind Swaraj does not touch upon the marginalised groups in the Indian society specifically, the concept of Swaraj contained in it has tremendous relevance for them in their struggle to achieve social justice and dignity. Besides, eliminating discrimination against these groups and combating their social exclusion remained his lifelong concern both in action as well as in his later writings. Accordingly, the concept of Swaraj in this book has been interpreted in its broadest sense as the realisation by these groups of their full potential and their productive and equal participation in society, economy and polity. The introduction to the volume and thematic papers in varied contexts present this vision. ‘The Reluctant State’ has been chosen as the title of the book becausethe Indian State’s intent and efforts for removing dispensing with marginalisation on the basis of caste, ethnicity, religion and gender have been very deficient totally inadequate. There has been a long considerable delay in the publication of this volume for a variety of unavoidable reasons. During this period, some of the papers were published in journals which have been included herein with the permission of the authors and the names of the journals have been indicated in the footnotes. One paper though not presented in the seminar has also been included for its contextual relevance with the author’s consent. I thank Prof. Muchkund Dubey, President, Council for Social Development for writing the Foreword and Prof. Manoranjan Mohanty for his many suggestions in the course of the preparation of this book for publication. I also thank the contributors for their continued interest in the publication despite the delay. Editing a book and its publication requires a lot of secretarial help for which the services rendered by Ms Gurmeet Kaur and Shri Dev Dutt are acknowledged with appreciation. Finally, Mr. K.K. Saxena of Aakar Books deserves all credit for never losing patience with us in this publication endeavour and for putting up with frequent revisions and structural changes in the organisation presentation of this volume. K.B. Saxena

Introduction PART I Concept of Marginalisation The concept of marginalisation has emerged as a powerful tool to explain the existing status of certain social groups in an unequal society affected by a high degree of economic deprivation, social subordination and political powerlessness vis-à-vis the dominant ones. Cox has referred to marginalised social groups as social collectivities who have been pushed to the margins of society where their dignity, sense of security and citizenship are undermined. They are socially excluded from access to assets and instruments involved in the productive process, benefits of development and decision making in the polity. They suffer discrimination in social relations as well as in economic activities which they are unable to neutralise through their internal strength. Their marginalisation is rooted in the negative societal perceptions of some ascribed pejorative characteristics which are difficult for them to fight or erase (Cox, 2001). Usually cultural, religious, social and ethnic minority groups in a society share these characteristics. Though most societies in the modern world have such social groups which have emerged as a result of exclusionary processes produced by social and economic developments, —national and international, this phenomenon is particularly characteristic of developing countries subjected to colonial occupation. The processes of marginalisation result in poverty, deprivation and hopelessness and may lead to social withdrawal, lack of self-confidence, internalisation of their low status, and lack of faith in the existing system. This situation, if not remedied by focused affirmative policies and state action, has the potential of exploding into violence. Marginalised Groups in India Societal and political evolution in India has characteristically pushed some social groups to the margins of society. These can be broadly identified as Dalits (the Scheduled Castes), Adivasis (the Scheduled Tribes), religious minorities (Muslims in particular) and women.

2 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Notwithstanding some differentiation that has emerged within these groups internally, they continue to remain marginal entities. Their conditions are characterised by high incidence of impoverishment, hardship and distress, lack of assets for productive work, low human development attainments, and lack of clout in the polity to influence governance. Additionally, they suffer social discrimination and encounter bias in public institutions, and in society at large. Dalits and Adivasis are overwhelmingly represented among the landless and semi-landless population in rural areas. They continue to be largely dependent on agricultural labour for their livelihoods but have little bargaining power and face job insecurity, low wages, indignities, and violence. They have the highest incidence of poverty, bondage, child labour, distress migration, and food insecurity, and the lowest levels of literacy and employment. They lack legal support to get their entitlements. Work participation rates, both male and female, are high, but the lack of sufficient work forces them to migrate for survival. A large section of them still lacks access to basic amenities of life—drinking water, sanitation facilities, medical care, and housing. Their representation in government jobs is low and does not improve even with reservation in groups A & B posts. Development programmes, even when targeted at them, fail to reach them. Their political participation is confined to reserved seats in Parliament, state legislatures and Panchayats, but that fails to translate into requisite political power. The members of these communities suffer the worst kind of atrocities. Even the operation of laws specifically designed for their protection fails to create confidence in them that they would get justice. They are virtually outside the ambit of the judicial system as they lack the financial and cultural resources to access it for obtaining justice. The marginalised status of women in India is glaringly reflected in the falling sex ratio. The prevalence of female foeticide and female infanticide is a stark reminder of their being unwanted. The high incidence of infant mortality, maternal mortality, and anemia among pregnant women and the lack of timely, adequate medicare and nutrition to prevent them are indicative of the insufficient state support they receive for survival. Their human development levels are lower compared to the male counterparts in their communities. They lack access to assets for livelihood which is compounded by lower literacy, inadequate access to skill and information, and no reservation available to them. Their representation in Parliament and state legislatures as also in administrative and managerial positions is negligible. They have a lower rate of life expectancy than women of Sri Lanka and Pakistan and India’s Gender Empowerment Rank (95) is lower than Maldives

Introduction

3

(76), Sri Lanka (84), and Bangladesh (80). Poverty and deprivations worsen the position of women more than men in the family and increase the gap between the genders. Women also suffer from violations of body both inside the family and outside as also in positions of work. They also face social barriers in avenues of higher mobility. Women of SCs/STs fare worse—they are doubly victimised and exploited because of their caste/ethnic status and as women (Singharoy, 2001). Muslims who constitute 13.4% of India’s population, the largest religious minority group, is also the most marginalised in that category. Their number below the poverty line is higher than the all India average and those of Hindus but lower than those of SCs/STs. Muslim work participation rates are lower than the all India level and that of Hindus and even Christians, while the Worker Population Ratio (WPR) of Muslim women are the lowest in the country. Only 13% of Muslims are engaged in regular/salaried jobs compared to 25% (Upper Castes) of Hindus, and they have higher than average reliance on self-employment. In rural areas, Muslims are mostly landless labourers, artisans and shopkeepers. Their earnings are low and they are very vulnerable with little bargaining power and no social security. The few who own land are small and marginal farmers. More than 50% are landless or nearlandless. Their marginal economic position is also reflected in lower per-capita expenditure, and lower literacy levels than Hindus and even other minorities, both among males and females, and this is particularly so at the middle, secondary and graduate levels. Their access to pucca houses, electricity and piped water supply is also lower than that of Hindus. There is an overall inadequacy of civic amenities and social infrastructure in Muslim dominated areas. Their educational attainment rank is slightly above SCs/STs but lower than that of OBC Hindus. Muslim children’s participation in education is characterised by poor enrolment, low retention and high dropout rates, both at school and college levels. The disparities between Muslims and Hindus at each level of education are significantly large. The ratio of out of school Muslim children is nearly that of SCs, and only marginally higher than that of STs. In professional and vocational courses, their enrolment is the lowest. But Muslims’ marginalisation is most significantly related to the discrimination they face in employment, housing, admission to schools and access to credit from private and public sector financial institutions. Their low economic position is aggravated by poor representation in political institutions—legislatures and decision making bodies. Besides these equity dimensions, their marginalisation is defined by the acute feeling of physical insecurity, and the denigration they face in public discourse in respect of markers of their identity. This insecurity and social denigration constrain their social mobility

4 Swaraj and the Reluctant State which affects their access to economic opportunities. This is accompanied by the discriminatory attitude of law enforcement agencies. Roots of Marginalisation The marginalisations discussed above are rooted in social relations and the distribution of power. But the structural context of this arrangement is different in the case of each social group. For the Dalits, this can be traced to the caste-based Hindu social order, its structural correlates and values system. The social relations built around them institutionalise multifaceted inequalities, with the privileged few groups at the top of the social and economic ladder, which enable them to control other social groups placed at the bottom and, which in turn, produces unequal distribution of power (Singharoy, 2001). Dalits in this hierarchy of power constitute the bottom layer with no access to means of upward mobility. The significant changes in legal and political rationality of this arrangement post-independence, however, are not matched by redistribution of economic resources, political power, and delivery of rights, entitlements and benefits. The marginalisation of Adivasis has a different historical and social context. Though lacking in authentic evidence, tribes occupied the fertile valley lands at one time but were driven out by the Aryans and settled down in the hills and their forests. Those who could not escape from this aggression were absorbed in the Aryan society at the lowest rung, and remained there relatively undisturbed by pre-colonial political authorities in the rest of India. They could, therefore, evolve and practise their unique social and economic life and governance arrangement. The process of their incorporation in the pre-colonial Indian states was slow and limited. This was confined to degrees of realisation of rent and the imposition of obligations which did not disrupt their autonomy. The process of marginalisation in their case took a significant turn with British rule which aggressively took over their territory using its superior economic capacity and military strength. This brought in its wake outside people into their territory and facilitated their subjugation. This process was accomplished by depriving the tribes of their control over productive resources, imposition of structures and institutions of governance alien to them, their integration with the market economy leading to their multifaceted exploitation, and the devaluation of their culture and values. This achievement, however, was not without widespread resistance and the use of brutal force to quell it. On realisation of the damage it had done to the Adivasis, the colonial government put this process under check towards the later part of their rule. But the structural changes and institutional arrangements which

Introduction

5

had caused the marginalisation of Adivasis leading to their resistance remained intact. This process of marginalisation was more aggressively pursued and considerably intensified in the post-colonial period through the ideology of ‘development’. They were deprived of control over their production resources for national development and their distinct way of life was altered and rationalized as their development so as to remove their social backwardness and geographical isolation and to integrate them with the mainstream larger society. In the latter case, given the highly hierarchical social structure of society, this could only be at the lowest level. It is thus the state which created and continues to reproduce the conditions for the marginalisation of Adivasis. The structural framework of gender relations which is responsible for the social marginalisation of women is embedded in patriarchy and is a common feature of societies across the world. But its specific form and intensity are shaped by the social and cultural environment in which the women are located. In India, the caste-based social structure provides the specific form of subordination, while patriarchal values are sought to be achieved by regulating sexuality, reproduction and social reproduction. The relations between castes are guided by considerations of purity and pollution. This entails further social restrictions on her in relation to the food to be consumed, her mobility and restraints on her behavior with the opposite sex, to maintain the ritual purity of caste. These norms affect the entire process of growing up of a woman after puberty, and severely limit her opportunities for participation in social, economic and political activities. The caste system also entails control over women’s labour by confining it to certain activities, implicitly restricting her physical mobility. Muslims’ marginalisation in society and polity is the outcome of recent historical developments leading to the partition of India and the creation of Pakistan in 1947. Muslims who stayed behind in India were a fragmented and weakened Islamic community largely consisting of its poorer segments. The process of marginalisation can thus be traced to the British rule. With the suppression of the 1857 resistance and the assumption of power directly by the Crown, Muslims in India lost their dominant position in the polity resulting in their despair and withdrawal. The British rulers’ conscious policy of giving greater consideration to Hindus in dealing with their subjects also contributed to this process. The Muslims, in contrast to Hindus, were late in learning the English language, and in acquiring modern education and skills which British rule offered and therefore lagged behind in availing the opportunities for advancement in the new polity. The policies of mobilisation for independence towards the later period created divisions between the two communities largely caused by the demand for a

6 Swaraj and the Reluctant State separate nation by Muslim leadership culminating eventually in the partition. In post-independence India, they were reduced to a small minority with a weak economic base, low human development indicators and absence of an elite to negotiate in a society and polity dominated by the Hindu majority (Hasan, 1997). Despite protection and equality granted to them in the Constitution and commitment of the political leadership to secularism, Muslims continue to face discrimination in every walk of life—access to education, organised and dignified employment, and financial capital. Culturally, they face the onslaught of rising Hindu fundamentalism, attacks on their religion, its institutions and values, and worse, pressures for assimilation. They are faced with a climate of suspicion (intensified after the onset of terrorism) and a deep-seated bias from people in authority. They are most frightened of communal riots which create a nagging sense of insecurity and lead to displacement, ghettoization and destruction of their fragile economic base. This anxiety is compounded by the hostile behavior of security agencies and the failure to get any justice in the system. Attempts by secular parties to address their deteriorating social and economic status and human development attainments through programmes focused on education and employment are strongly opposed by the Hindu fundamentalist forces which weakens the political will of governments—Central and state - to pursue them. India’s poor relations with Pakistan also contribute to this unenviable situation. The State in India The state in India is not the creation of the British rule. It has a long historical ancestry. Its evolution can be traced to the regional kingdoms of the Mauryas, Ashoka, Guptas and, later, the Moghuls which at their peak displayed their essential attributes—hegemony over smaller kingdoms with centralised fiscal arrangement, hereditary bureaucracies, and organised armies as their instruments of exercise of power. Moghuls had even created a structure of territorial administrative units for effective administration and developed a system of land administration for the collection of revenue. They also created the tradition of a powerful ruler who is the repository of supreme power and is to be unquestionably obeyed, which was symbolised by elaborate ceremonies—issues of decrees, acceptance of gifts and a durbar style of contact with the public. The state did not seek to usurp or take over smaller kingdoms, but sought their allegiance to its control and the acceptance of some obligations to it. The rudiments of a federal system could be seen in this political formation (Rudolf and Rudolf, 1987). The other significant feature of the state in pre-colonial India was the primacy of societal values, which implied that societal units had an autonomous

Introduction

7

existence regulating their own norms of conduct and values which the state protected and upheld (Rudolf and Rudolf, 1987). In this broad crystallisation of state evolution, the Moghul rule represented a more developed and powerful version since it could build up a higher resource base by extracting a larger share of agricultural produce to sustain an army and an organised bureaucracy. It also introduced Islamic laws and judicial procedures in respect of its Muslim subjects, leaving the non-Muslim communities to practise their own customary laws. Moral legitimacy was sought to be gained by giving financial assistance to pious persons of different religions. This made the medieval state more powerful than its ancient counterparts (Kumar, 1997). The colonial state while drawing upon some elements of the structure left by Moghuls consistent with its own framework of a modern state, marked a distinctive departure from the earlier state systems. This was reflected in its superior military technology, bureaucratic organisation, and greater centralisation of authority. It established a bureaucracy based on principles of meritocracy rather than patronage or inheritance, and created territorial units of administration like districts and sub-divisions which were entrusted to this bureaucracy. It also introduced rule-based governance through enactment of laws and institutions of judicial administration for their enforcement with a specified mechanism of decision making. Through these instruments, it formulated policies, regulations and initiatives with a view to restructuring Indian society in a manner that would serve its twin objectives—consolidation of its rule and extraction of larger surpluses to be transferred to the metropolis. It is thus evident that in the pre-colonial phase, unlike the colonial and the post-colonial one, the state did not represent the kind of ‘sovereignty’ and ‘universality’ which commanded allegiance to its authority from society as a whole, stood for public good, was capable of enforcing its orders, and could mould social institutions to serve its political goals. The real power lay with the village community, to which it was subordinated and which enforced caste-based social, economic and moral order embedded in religion, and which it had no power to change. The authority of the state was confined to levying tax and engaging in external relations, but provided little space to change the structure of production relations and hierarchy of social groups. The enduring nature of this social order was unaffected by the change of political regimes and their boundaries, and therefore hardly impacted the daily lives of people (Kaviraj, 2000). The state, in this dispensation, did not possess the authority to which victims of injustice, inequities and violence of the social order could approach for relief. In such a situation, little could be expected from the state to address the

8 Swaraj and the Reluctant State marginalisation and subordination emanating from caste and patriarchy. Colonial rule marked a radical departure in the conception of the state, broadly patterned on what had emerged in Europe, the crucial features of which lay in absolute sovereignty in a given territory; universality of its acceptance by citizens denotative of society as a whole; representing common good above particular interests; acknowledgement as the seat of ultimate authority; exclusive use of coercion for settlement of disputes and resolution of conflicts; and rulebased governance through an organised bureaucracy. But this conception of state was fashioned by two overriding considerations. In its earlier phase of company rule, it chose to limit its role to resource extraction from Indian society, and the maintenance of a modicum of order. It desisted from undertaking any social and economic change so as not to destabilise the existing social order, which could pose a challenge to its rule. In the later phase, it undertook some social interventions which included a thorough survey of physical territory and its biodiversity, census of its people and social groups, and social reforms including abolition of Sati and, in later years, the establishment of communal electorates to address the anxieties of the Muslim minority. Despite these initiatives undertaken for more effective governance, it essentially remained, marginal to socio-political life in the colony, and, like the earlier states confined itself to maintenance of law and order and resource extraction (Kaviraj, 2000). Its disinclination to interfere in caste-based social order and its injustices and oppressions, was on account of the perceived threat from such an initiative to the colonial rule on the pattern of 1857. It dithered between two competing pressures-non-interfering instinct guided by the overwhelming objective of surplus extraction and political consolidation; and the interventionist inclination to civilise the backward natives by moulding their social institutions, practices, values, knowledge systems and aspirations on the pattern of their own society. The latter desire eventually lost out in the realisation that it could derail the first objective. As a result, the colonial state did little to alter the caste-based social order and its assignment of social and economic roles which generated social injustices and oppression. Rather, faced with stiff resistance from the traditional power structure, it chose not to pursue even some moderate steps initiated to change the inequities of this structure as is evident from the following instances. State Resistance to Pressures for Change Under pressure from Dalit groups for social and economic reforms, the colonial government issued an order in 1894 to free them from serfdom

Introduction

9

by assigning land to them as a result of which some cultivable land was distributed to them (Thangraj, 2002). But the law abolishing slavery passed by the British Parliament in 1883 was not enforced in India due the lack of commitment (Mendelsohn and Vicziany, 1998). It was only in 1943, that the enactment of the Anti-slavery Act made any right arising from slavery unenforceable in courts. But this did not eliminate the practice of bonded labour. Worse, forced labour was legalized by the provisions of various laws such as Madras Compulsory Labour Act, 1858, Workmen’s Breach of Contract Act, 1859, and the Madras Planters’ Act, 1903, though they were repealed later. The Bihar and Orissa Kamiauti Act, 1920 sought to regulate debt bondage (not abolish it) but was rarely enforced. The 1930 ILO convention on forced labour was not ratified by the Central Legislative Assembly for this reason as well. Even debt bondage regulation acts passed by some provincial governments had no impact due to poor enforcement (Reddy, 1995). Dalits also received no relief from the courts in respect of their treatment by caste Hindus as they tended to enforce customary practices in the private sphere, but refrained from doing so in respect of public facilities like schools, wells and roads. In terms of occupational mobility, colonial rule did not see any change in the most menial and degrading jobs that were assigned to Dalits in the railways and in industrial occupations. Some untouchables joined the plantations in India, Ceylon, Fiji, and West Indies to escape their then prevailing enslavement (Mendelsohn and Vicziany, 1998). The state thus played no role in liberating Dalits from the situation of gross exploitation and degradation. The colonial state revealed its characteristic dualism in the matter of education of Dalits—a liberal initiative which it failed to enforce when faced with pressure from caste Hindus (Nambisson, 2002). The policy of prohibition of any discrimination in admission to schools was also not enforced. In ordinary schools, caste Hindu pressure against entry of Dalits was accommodated by seating Dalit children on the verandah. Even in special schools, set up exclusively for them, Dalit children faced violence from the upper castes besides poor quality of education This failure to enforce its own policy reinforced the marginalisation and exclusion of Dalits (Nambisson, 2002). In fact the larger effort at education of Dalits came not from the colonial state but from Christian Missions, some enlightened state rulers (Poona, Baroda and Travancore) and social reformers. The colonial government’s attempt to understand Indian society by carrying out surveys of land tenures and rights, and enumeration and classification of its population with caste and religion as its basis, firmly embedded caste in religion and rituals with a rigidity that was at variance with the prevailing reality of fluidity in caste with diverse

10 Swaraj and the Reluctant State roles and relationships. This triggered the process of mobilisation on caste lines, but also tended to marginalise ‘low castes’ and exclude them from recruitment to government jobs. It also led to the categorisation of some of the low caste groups as, ‘criminal’ castes and tribes and creating a feeling of separateness between Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs. The positive side of this identify formation was its use for protective discrimination as a public policy from the 1920s. Agrarian Changes Triggering Marginalisation The Adivasis did not experience marginalisation in the pre-colonial period simply because they escaped the process of getting incorporated in the state. Therefore, Adivasi territories and their communal management of natural resources, social institutions and selfgovernance remained unscathed. Even when the region came under kingship, the kings did not interfere with the management of economy and governance (Mahapatra, 1993). With the grant of Dewani to East India Company, the local kings, with a view to meeting their obligation to pay annual cash rent and other charges to the Company, began to lease out land cultivated by Adivasis to non-Adivasis, as thekedars who gradually assumed land ownership rights and subjected Adivasi cultivators to intense exploitation. This started the process of subinfeudation from above which altered the structure of land management and Tribal control over it (Roy Burman, undated). The permanent settlement in 1793 had a devastating impact on the Adivasis as the zamindars started extracting cash rent and other surcharges from them. The assessment of revenue payable on the land rather than the crop and payment of revenue in cash rather than in kind led to the breakdown of communal land and forest ownership and its conversion to individual ownership. Unable to pay cash rent, Adivasis had to borrow from money lenders to discharge this obligation. The inability to discharge the loan amount led to loss of land and the debt bondage system of control over labour. The policy of establishing direct relationship of each landholder with the government was responsible for delegitimation of the ‘community’ in the management of land (Roy Burman, undated). The Adivasi communities experienced the most radical change in respect of land and forest during the colonial period, which led to their marginalisation in the Indian polity. The changes in the agrarian structure included 1) introduction of zamindar—proprietors (overlords)—over the Tribal cultivators which implied an obligation to pay regular rent; 2) assessment of rent on the basis of land held and not the hitherto prevalent share of produce; 3) payment of this rent in cash rather than the conventional practice of payment in kind; 4) assumption

Introduction 11 by the state of ownership of all land in the territory; 5) appropriation of forests and restrictions on access to its resources; and 6) introduction of cash economy. The early period of British India was also characterised by the clearance of forests for cultivation to get revenue, and felling of trees for supply of teak for military purposes, railways and coalmines and even for export. Subsequently, the government assumed total control over forests and the responsibility of their management was effected through the enactment of the Indian Forest Act, 1865, fencing large tracts of land as Reserve Forest, and the creation of a Forest Department in the government. This deprived the Adivasis of unrestricted access to and the use of forests hitherto available to them. This broke the bond between them and forests, around which their entire society and economy were structured. Similar restrictions were introduced by princely states under the influence of the colonial policy. Further, forests under state control began to replace multiple species of mixed forests with single strands of commercial species to meet industrial and urban demand. No consideration was shown for the needs of Adivasis who survived on resources from mixed forests. The establishment of an administrative system throughout the territory for exercising imperial control and enforcement of policy destroyed the autonomy and self-governance of the Adivasi communities. This led to the effective disintegration of the ‘community’ as a large number of non-Adivasis totally unfamiliar with the ways of life and values of the Adivasis, were brought into the area as officials and service providers (Mahapatra, 1993). Governance through the law and justice administration system based on courts functioning through rules of evidence, written records, and lawyers became yet another instrument of deprivation of land, exploitation of their labour, loss of dignity, and impoverishment. The cumulative effect of these measures was truly devastating and led to spontaneous revolts against the colonial government. These revolts were brutally suppressed, but also led to the enactment of protective legislation against alienation of Adivasi land by non-Adivasis, regulation of money lending to prevent usury, and grant of a modicum of self-governance to the Adivasi communities by partially excluding them from the administered areas in the mainland and completely excluding the northeast from the administered areas. Factors Contributing to Muslim Marginalisation The marginalisation of India’s Muslim minority is entirely traceable to the colonial period during which Muslims experienced a cataclysmic change in their position from being rulers of the country to a subject social group. Their early response to colonial rule and the western ethos

12 Swaraj and the Reluctant State conveys a sense of loss of power, anger against political subordination, and indignation against cultural hegemony with exhortations for a reformed and revitalized community and Islam purified of its of Hindu practices to fight it (Hasan, 2002). The colonial narrative of Islam and Muslims was equally disparaging—Islam was viewed as an aggressive and hostile force, and a static and dogmatic faith, while Muslims were considered authoritarian, conservative, rigid, resistant to modernity, and of low morality. Their theological seminaries were castigated for spreading disaffection and sedition against British rule (Hasan, 1997). These biases colored the British assessment of Muslims and their relationship with Hindus. There was no doubt an alternative view among the colonial rulers which questioned this negative characterisation. But the former view largely prevailed in their policy towards the community. During this phase, Hindus came closer to the colonial government due to their greater inclination to acquire English education and imbibe western thinking and practices, which facilitated entry into government jobs. Later, Muslims’ attitude changed and they also took to modern education and learning of English. When the Indian National Congress led by the Hindu elite started critiquing the government, the tilt towards Hindus changed and the colonial government started cultivating Muslims to thwart nationalist aspirations. This was reflected in the British acknowledging and encouraging Muslims as a separate social group segregated from Hindus and, later, in providing political legitimacy to this distinctness by according them a religio–political identity. This culminated in granting them a separate electorate along with reservations and weightages in the Minto-Morley reforms and given effect to in the Central and provincial legislative bodies in the Indian Council Act 1909. The continuation of this approach in the Government of India Acts of 1919 and 1935 paved the way for partition (Hasan, 2002, Sharma et al, 2014). The marginalisation of Muslims in independent India is primarily rooted in this catastrophe which left behind wounds of communal hatred and violence, and a numerically smaller community highly weakened by migration of its social and economic elites who could command political attention. (Hasan, 1997). The marginalisation of Muslims can also be attributed to the evolution of the Indian national movement and its ideological underpinnings revolving around two competing theories of national identity—a) secular, and b) Hindu nationalist. The former is wedded to pluralism and syncretism, implying a composite culture of different religions and communities; the latter advocates assimilation, which implies centrality of Hinduism and the absorption of other identities in it. Thus pluralism signifies the co-existence of distinctive identities, while

Introduction 13 syncretism implies the emergence of a composite culture based on them. On the other hand, assimilation involves absorption in the dominant culture or religion. Though the dominant view in the Indian National Congress was of a secular India represented by Nehru, it also had leaders who shared the views of Hindu nationalists. The latter’s strategy of mobilisation based on Hindu scriptures, idioms, and practices alienated the Muslims. Neither Gandhi nor Nehru was able to address Jinnah’s anxieties on this account and change the ‘Hindu’ streak in Congress’ tone and approach (Hasan, 2003). The Congress leaders’ acceptance of partition signalled the defeat of secular nationalism. The marginalisation of Muslims has also been explained in terms of their inability to recover from the loss of power they experienced in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Their principal skill had been in the field of governance. Hindus were able to dislodge them from their supremacy in governance during colonial rule. Another factor which played a key role in their marginalisation was the loss in 1837 of the monopoly of the Persian language in governance which had given them an advantage over Hindus in capturing official positions. The Resolution of 1900 which required fluency in Nagari and Persian script for a government job put them at a disadvantage compared to Hindus (Gayer and Jafferlot, 2012). Their marginalisation has also been attributed to the absence of business oriented traditions among Muslims. Their prominent entrepreneurial communities—Bohras, Khojas, and Memons—unlike Hindu Banias, are not fully integrated with Muslims of other castes. Also, unlike Banias and Marwaris, none of their successful leaders moved to industry, a source of economic clout. Thus Muslims’ loss of political power and supremacy in governance that they enjoyed in the pre-colonial phase was magnified by the lack of economic power as well. Evolution of Womens’ Marginalisation The status of women in society has been intimately related to the character of the political economy. In the hunting and gathering economy which preceded the advent of agriculture, women were not subordinated to men as they participated equally in the productive activity. Their role in reproduction was also crucial as it was directly linked to the survival of the community. This precluded any need for control over their sexuality. Male control over women took roots in the Vedic period as the Rig Vedic society witnessed Aryan conquest of the Adivasis and consequent enslavement of their women, whose labour contributed to primitive accumulation in the pastoral economy. This led to segmentation among women and control over female sexuality (Chakravarti, 2004). This crystallised in the Post-Vedic period with the

14 Swaraj and the Reluctant State advent of agricultural economy and the consequent shift of the role of Aryan women to the household for reproduction, while the labour of enslaved women was used for food production. The control over sexuality of Aryan women was necessary due to their role in sacrificial rituals. The shift to agricultural economy also coincides with the emergence of class and caste divisions. Thus, the combination of caste and patriarchy coloured the ideology of women’s sexuality in Brahminical society with the maintenance of ritual purity as its primary concern. This was sought to be enforced by subordination of women to the male kin of the household—wife to husband, daughter to father, widow to son — and stress on virtue and chastity. This sexual order was managed through the social order which determined the social division of labour, restrictions on physical mobility of women and contact with men, and empowered the community to inflict punishment, even violence, against transgression of these norms. Their status was equated with that of Shudras (Desai and Krishnaraj, 2004). Manu’s law reflected the height of degradation of women, — denial of education to girls, lowering of marriageable age of girls, prohibition of marriage between higher caste women and lower caste men, and an injunction against widow re-marriage. Buddhism and Jainism made little difference to the male control and dominance over women except permitting them the option of becoming Bhikkunis (life of renunciation). The Bhakti Movement critiqued this normative code, but could not alter it (Desai and Krishnaraj, 2004). With the emergence of the state, the responsibility of enforcing this code shifted to kings who also upheld the decision of male kinsmen against the women, thus entrenching class, caste, and patriarchal structures and norms (Chakraverty, 2004). Muslim rule did not make any intervention in the customary practices of the native communities so as not to alienate them. The colonial state in its earlier phase of East India Company gave directions to the civil courts to follow the religious texts of the concerned communities in the matter of private laws. This led to the standardisation and codification of customary laws and their political legitimacy, delinked them from actual practises, and had the effect of distorting their substance and erasing their synergetic nature (Coomarswami, 2005). However, in criminal matters, the colonial state enacted laws common to all and enforced them universally. This duality in approach between civil and criminal laws, separated public law from private law. Over time, some interventions were made to reform religious laws such as those relating to Sati, widow remarriage, determination of age of consent, prohibition of female infanticide and, much later on succession, special marriage, guardians of wards, dissolution of marriage, right to property, and application of Sharia;

Introduction 15 however the ambit of these reforms were restricted under male pressure. In addition, universally applicable secular statutes governing family relationships were also introduced. But these interventions had no liberating effect on women as they were embedded in religious texts and expensive, dilatory and adversarial judicial processes (Agnes, 2005). A positive intervention to address marginalisation of women during the colonial period was in the realm of education but this was undertaken largely by Christian missionaries. After recommendations of the Hunter Commission, the state set up schools in Presidencies of Bombay, Madras and Bengal and liberalised the entry of women to colleges and into medical education. A medical college was set up exclusively for women. But this initiative remained restricted to urban areas and was funded from non-government sources (Basu, 2005). It was social reform and national movements rather than the government, that took the lead in raising issues of social evils, and denial of rights and opportunities to women. However, the participation of women in the national struggle enhanced their awareness on these matters and encouraged them to take up their own cause. The significant interventions in the field of labour welfare included the Indian Factory Act, restricting working hours of women to 11 a day, a weekly holiday (Sunday), the provision of a crèche for children under 6 in the mills employing 50 or more women. These progressive legislations lacked enforcement besides being undermined by the regressive practice of employers employing only unmarried women and by the introduction of mechanisation leading to a decline in women’s employment (Hensman, 1996). Movements In the evolving political consciousness of marginalised groups as a result of social and political movements, Muslims and Dalits were more articulate and focused due to the political leadership they were able to get than women and the Adivasis. Adivasi issues rarely figured in the prominent resolutions of the Congress or the interventions of the state. Women’s movement largely remained attached to the mainstream national movement and showed no inclination to project a more radical stance on issues affecting them and mobilise sufficient support for them. Dalits’ issues attracted the attention of the social movements as a response to the challenge posed by conversion to Christianity or Islam, identity consciousness generated by census operations and the prospect of participation in elections. But these movements—Jyoti Rao Phule’s Satya Shodhak Samaj in what is now part of Maharashtra and Justice Party of the present day Tamil Nadu (Madras) –- neither presented a radical reform agenda of Hinduism nor provided the untouchables with

16 Swaraj and the Reluctant State any leadership position. None of these movements had a strong commitment to eradication of untouchability and caste system. Narayana Guru’s movement in Kerala tried to include untouchable castes but failed to do so. The frontal attack came from Ambedkar who with his high educational achievements was able to project Dalit issues like no one had done before. He did not find any genuine commitment in the Congress to eradicate untouchability and he thought that Gandhian sincerity to the Dalit cause was subordinated to national unity. Ambedkar’s confrontation with Gandhi on the issue brought Dalit issues centre-stage in the Congress. As a result of these political developments, the colonial state granted separate electorate to depressed classes in Communal Award in 1932 which changed over to reserved seats in legislative bodies a after the Poona Pact (Sharma, et al, 2014), while reservation in administratic positions and educational institutions was made in several progressive princely states. The process of removing discrimination and restrictions against Dalits in physical movement, railway travel, employment, entry into schools and temples, access to land started with the Madras Act 1938 when provincial governments came to power (Deshpande, 2013). This led to the implicit faith of Dalits in the framework of political democracy and constitutional means to neutralise their marginalisation (Suresh, 1996). Of the four communities, Adivasis alone resisted the appropriation of land and forest and institutionalisation of surplus extraction by the state and the market through commoditisation of productive resources, imposition of intermediaries in land management, introduction of bureaucracy for direct administration, and delegitimation of community institutions which unleashed unprecedented exploitation (Rao, 1996). While this resistance was brutally suppressed, it led to moderately protective measures in relation to land and against usury, some access to forest resources and a modicum of self-governance for the mainland Adivasis but a more substantive autonomy and self-governance for the northeastern Adivasis which excluded their area from the administration of the plains (Misra and Misra, 1996). The post-colonial India built its protective discrimination on the lines established during the colonial period. There were three streams of movements raising women’s issues. The first was the social reform movements which emanated from nineteenth century social reformers focusing on social oppression, practice of Sati, child marriage, ban on widows’ remarriage, polygamy, and denial of property rights; the second was the Gandhian phase of national movement which integrated women into political struggle for independence, engaged them in constructive work and projected commitment to women’s equality; the third was the left movement that

Introduction 17 brought to the centre-stage issues of class and caste oppression specific to women besides those of patriarchy, which did not find a space in national agenda. The major gains of the colonial period was the intervention to reform personal laws and enact labour laws. But gender inequality never got crystallised in these movements nor did the patriarchal structures of control and subordination of women. After independence the state extended the ambit of entitlement to women through legislation largely covering personal law, social evils and welfare manifested in expanded access to education and professions besides guaranteeing equality with men in the matter of rights. In the case of Muslims, the negative legacy of partition left those remaining in India with a hostile mainstream population, but with no capacity to project their issues and bargain for their inclusion in constitutional issues and policy making. They depended upon the goodwill of the leadership of Congress to accommodate their interests. In the post-colonial state, Muslims completely lost out on any compensatory discrimination in their favour. They also realised the risk, in their mobilisation as a religio-political entity, the potential of intensification of Hindu communalism threatening their security. This restricted their option to seeking commitment to a political structure which ensured equality and accommodated their cultural identity. The Congress and more specifically, Nehru, did include these commitments in the Constitution although secularism was not mentioned in the text. The Post-Colonial State: Constitutional Framework The post-colonial state had a complex task of designing the future structure of the polity. Three parallel streams of goal setting—political, social and economic—were being pursued within the ambit of the national movement from which emerged specific courses of action in respect of each of them. The ‘political’ consisted of freedom from colonial rule and establishing a democratic regime. The ‘social’ articulated the commitment to modernisation and social change which addressed the marginalisation of social groups. The ‘economic’ advocated development path to eradicate poverty and illiteracy and improve the standard of living. With these three goals, the Constituent Assembly, after an elaborate exercises gave a Constitution to the country. The preamble of the Constitution enshrines the urge to seek justice—social, economic, and political—and strikes at the root of marginalisation of certain social groups. Its two crowning features lay down a strategy of realising it, taking into account the specific disabilities each group suffers from. One feature which forms the core of it (the basic structure) comprises the Fundamental Rights and the Directive Principles of state policy (Austin, 1996). The other feature is the affirmative action to target

18 Swaraj and the Reluctant State specific disabilities to remove the powerlessness of these groups. The latter consists of reservation in legislatures, government jobs and educational institutions for SCs and STs, protection of cultural identity and autonomy of institutions in respect of minorities, and specific provisions to neutralise the vulnerability of women. Marginalisation is embedded in institutionalised inequality and discrimination which the Fundamental Rights prevent is by mandating a social order where every citizen is entitled to basic rights. These rights guarantee equality before law and equal protection of law (Art 14); prohibition of discrimination on grounds of religion, race, caste, sex or place of birth (Art 15); and equality of opportunity in matters of public employment (Art 16). The abolition of untouchability (Art 17), and prohibition of traffic in human beings and forced labour (Art 23) address specifically the marginalisation of Dalits and Adivasis. The anxieties of minorities are set at rest by freedom of conscience and practice and propagation of religion (Art 25), freedom to manage religious affairs (Art 26), freedom to pay taxes for promotion of any particular religion (Art 27), attendance at religious instructions or religious worship in certain educational institutions (Art 28), and protection of interest of minorities (Art 29) and the right of minorities to establish and administer educational institutions. The interests of women have been addressed in the Directive Principles which though not justiciable like the Fundamental Rights, have had considerable influence over policy making. These principles cover equal pay for equal work for both men and women (Art 39) and provision of maternity relief in conditions of work (Art 42), in addition to provisions which benefit all including marginalised groups— provision against child labour, and in favour of the right work and to a living wage, as also improving nutrition and health. Similarly, civil rights regarding freedom of speech, expression, association, movement, profession and residence (Art 19), personal liberty (Art 21), and protection against arrest and detention in certain cases (Art 22) are Fundamental Rights and remedies for enforcement of rights in case they are violated by the state or an individual (Art 32) are applicable to all citizens. The second feature which concerns affirmative action focuses primarily on Dalits (SCs) and Adivasis (STs). It consists of provisions for reservation of seats in legislative bodies—Central and state and Panchayati Raj Institutions (Art 330, 332), educational institutions (Art15 (4) and 29 (2), reservation of posts in government employment (Art 16 (4) and a National Commission each for SCs/STs for safeguarding their interests (Art 338, 338A). For Adivasis, there is provision of another Commission after every ten years to report on Scheduled Areas and welfare of people living therein (Art 339). Art 46 directs the state to

Introduction 19 promote educational and economic interests of the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes and to protect them from social injustice and all forms of exploitation. In respect of Adivasis, a special dispensation has been provided in governance of the areas they predominantly reside in which are earmarked as the Fifth Schedule and the Sixth Schedule. In respect of the Fifth Schedule, the Governor enjoys special powers to not apply to a Scheduled Area any law enacted by Central or state legislature, to make regulations for peace and good governance, to prohibit or restrict transfer of land of Scheduled tribes, provide for allotment of land to them, regulate money lending in their area, and to make a report annually to the President regarding the administration of the Scheduled areas. Art 275 provides for payment of grants to states out of the Consolidated Fund of India for schemes of welfare of STs or raising the level of administration of Scheduled Areas. In respect of the Sixth Schedule, Art 244 (A) provides for the formation of Autonomous Councils for the governance of Tribal areas. Constitution also permits the state to make special provisions for women and children (Art 15 (3)). Policy Architecture Over the past six decades, many laws have been enacted, policies have been made, and programmes implemented to give effect to the aforementioned Constitutional vision. These cover four dimensions: security against violence, protective discrimination, social and economic development, and political participation. The protective measures for Dalits include criminal prosecution of those engaged in untouchability practices, enhanced punishment for atrocities committed on them along with rehabilitation of victims, and elimination of the practices of manual scavenging and Devdasi System. The provisions for protection of labour against exploitation are contained in labour laws such as those relating to payment of minimum wages in employment and equal remuneration to men and women for performing the same work, abolition of bonded labour system and regulation of child and migrant labour, and contract workers. These are of universal application but are of specific relevance to all four groups and particularly to Dalits and Adivasis. The measures for protection against atrocities cover Adivasis as well. Development measures cover land reforms, Poverty alleviation and arrangements to ensure that adequate resources are allocated to improve in their economic conditions and the status of human development through the mechanism of Sub-Plans. In the case of Adivasis, the provisions for legal protection against alienation of their land, recognition of forest rights, regulation of money lending, and marketing of minor forest produce have been made. Poverty alleviation programmes consisting

20 Swaraj and the Reluctant State of wage and self-employment, provision of minimum needs, which include education health, drinking water etc. and distribution of subsidized food and provision of meals to children. Though not targeted specifically at these groups, these are of particular relevance in their case due to the high incidence of poverty and malnutrition among them. In the case of women, social reform measures have focused on problems relating to personal law such as share in parental and husband’s property, marriage, divorce, adoption, marital disputes, welfare measures relating to maternity, while protective arrangements have been directed against sexual harassment and dowry deaths, domestic violence, child marriage, and female infanticide. Development measures seek to ensure adequate share for women in the beneficiary oriented schemes through Gender Budgeting in the programmes. As for Muslims, there was no specific regulatory or development intervention until 1983 when a 15 Point Programme for minorities was introduced in the form of an advisory to the state governments which included directions to deal with communal riots and special consideration in recruitment for jobs and other measures. After the Sachar Committee report (2066), however, programmes for educational improvement, provisions for scholarship, and schemes for infrastructure development in minority concentration areas and skill development for youth have been introduced. In respect of political participation, while Dalits and Adivasis have reservation of seats in legislative bodies and Panchayati Raj Institutions, neither women nor Muslims have any such reservation in legislative bodies. However, women have 33% reservation of seats in Panchayati Raj Institutions. Further, statutory commissions for safeguarding their rights have been set up for women and minorities as well. Status of Implementation of Protectional Measures Has our constitutional and policy architecture helped in eliminating or even significantly reducing the marginalisation of these communities? A scrutiny of their implementation would provide an answer. We take up the issue of protection first which is the uppermost in the psyche of these groups. Protection: Security Against Violence These groups feel physically insecure because of the violence inflicted on them by the members of the dominant sections of society—higher castes in respect of Dalits, non-Adivasis in relation to Adivasis, Hindus in the case of Muslims and men in the case of women. In the case of religious minorities, the feeling of physical insecurity is the most severe because they are victims of organised violence (communal riots) by

Introduction 21 members of the majority community against which they fail to get protection from the state and justice under the law. The track record of most governments in preventing organised riots, effectively protecting minorities when riots take place, and taking action on the recommendations of enquiry commissions set up to investigate them is disgraceful. The record is equally deplorable in ensuring punishment to those accused of organising riots and participating in them, and in rehabilitation of the victims. Their frustration mounts when the police and other security forces display communal bias against them in maintaining public order and further victimise them in subsequent processes of action under the law as riots in Gujarat and other places have shown, and state agencies remain indifferent to complaints regarding such issues. Scheduled castes are not only victims of violence on individual basis unleashed by the dominant castes as a routinised phenomenon in their daily lives, but also face organised violence by members of the locally dominant communities and their private armies when they resist injustices meted out to them. They also fail to get protection from the state agencies (police in particular), and mandatory compensation and rehabilitation (from civil agencies) sanctioned by law. The enforcement of laws to prevent atrocities and untouchability suffer from low rates of conviction, biased, delayed and shoddy investigations, and poor quality of prosecution. In respect of the law against untouchability practices, victims find it useless even to register complaints. The enforcement of laws against manual scavenging and Devdasi system is even worse. Adivasis broadly face the same experience as Dalits against increasing violence, particularly sexual violence, both in the public sphere and in the work place. Besides this, retaliatory violence is also unleashed by the state through its security agencies against these groups when they react through resistance movements against state failure to physically protect them against violence by their exploiters, punish the guilty, and take effective action to deliver their entitlements. This retaliation takes the form of custodial deaths, torture, rape of women, fake encounters, and collective penalisation for individual transgressions with arson, grievous injury, and destruction of property. There is no protection against these excesses of law enforcement agencies and there is little relief from the courts. All four communities face the bias of law enforcement agencies against them in registration and investigation of their complaints and delivery of justice. The enforcement of laws for protection against exploitation of labour—bonded labour, child labour, migrant labour, and contract labour—suffers from apathy of enforcement officials, dilatory process

22 Swaraj and the Reluctant State of justice delivery, and financial and political clout of employers and their better capacity to engage in litigation. The vulnerability of labour increases manifold due to their need to accept any terms of employment for sheer survival, lack of organisation and the tilt of enforcement agencies in favour of employers. Worse, in a neo-liberal economy, enforcement of labour laws is not only on the back burner; provisions of labour laws are being progressively diluted so as to give employers a free hand. Removal of Discrimination/Exclusion All four communities face a variety of discriminatory and exclusionary practices by state agencies and, in addition, by members of the dominant majority community in respect of Dalits, Adivasis and Muslims, and by male members in respect of women. This exclusion is manifested in the access to productive resources, distribution of benefits of development, opportunities for upward mobility, entry into institutions of learning, and jobs in the government and the private sector. The discrimination also extends to accessing credit, market, housing, health, education, and skill development facilities. All four groups experience deep-seated prejudices against them in social interaction. The officials of the institutions charged with the responsibility of delivering public services also carry biases against them. Within this broad picture, there are only minor variations with regard to the particular forms of discrimination and exclusion in respect of each group. Reservation: Compensatory Discrimination This provision is not available to Muslims and women. As for Dalits and Adivasis, in respect of appointment to jobs in the government, quotas in respect of groups C and D posts have been, by and large, filled up, in groups D more than in group C, due largely to the posts of sweepers in that category for which there are no takers from other communities. The quota in respect of groups B and A continues to have large unfilled vacancies, in group A more than B. But there is virtually no enforcement of reservation in many establishments financially aided by government, the worst case being that of universities and technical institutions. Outside the government funded establishments, there is higher caste monopoly in all spheres. At the state level, southern states have relatively better enforcement record than the others. But these groups face problems even post-recruitment after availing of reservations in government jobs. They face the hostility of higher castes and an unwelcome social and working environment in the institutions they are appointed to. The courts and the government have also been progressively diluting the ambit of reservation provisions. Worse, even

Introduction 23 this limited window of upward social mobility has drastically shrunk due to the shift to a market economy and consequent reduction in the size of the government work force to reduce cost. Private sector jobs are out of reach for them due to the poor quality of their initial education, absence of skills and requisite cultural and financial resources, besides the huge discrimination they face in recruitment and the selection process (Thorat and Newman, 2007). The efforts of the government to extend some preferential treatment for candidates of these groups in recruitment to the private sector have met with a total roadblock. In the absence of any reservation, Muslims and women have very low presence in government jobs, lowest being in the case of Muslims due to the discrimination they encounter at all levels. In respect of reservation of seats in institutions of higher learning, Dalit and Adivasi students are unable to avail their quotas due to the lack of adequate financial support and the poor quality of their initial education. Those who do enter these institutions face discrimination from upper caste peers and faculty members. Development On the development front, re-distributive land reforms was the only programme for effecting structural change to eliminate their marginalisation. But it failed to achieve its objective. Dalits and Adivasis who actually cultivated the land belonging to owners from other communities failed to secure tenancy status and its consequential benefits in the absence of documentary proof of their status as cultivators. As a result they were evicted from their land. Dalit and Adivasis who were allotted ceiling/government and Bhoodan land, in many cases, failed to get possession of land or were evicted by earstwhile owners and encroachers. Where they could obtain and retain possession of land, against these odds, they lacked the resources to make it cultivable and the government scheme to provide such assistance failed to be delivered to them. In any case, land reforms are no longer being pursued and their provisions are getting diluted/relaxed to facilitate economic growth. As for poverty alleviation measures of which wage employment is the most significant, the earlier version of wage employment programmes suffered from indifferent implementation, inadequate allocation of resources, poor targeting, lack of comprehensive planning, and virtually no participation of beneficiaries. Even the currently operational right-based MNREGS has failed to provide guaranteed hundred days of employment. The self-employment programme has fared far worse due to its flawed assumptions, lack of professional capacity of the implementing bureaucracy to plan and implement them,

24 Swaraj and the Reluctant State unwillingness of banks to provide adequate credit, poor quality of assets distributed, and non-provision of supporting services etc. As for distribution of food grains at concessional rates, due to exclusion of a substantial percentage of the deserving members of these groups from the BPL list, they have been unable to access it. The recently enacted National Food Security Act 2013 attempts to address this problem, but is yet to be fully enforced. In access to other services such as drinking water, education, health, ICDS, and mid-day meals, marginalised groups (Dalits specifically) still face huge discrimination. The high incidence of poverty in these groups forces them to push their children into the labour market where they face acute exploitation and receive brutal treatment from employers. Other welfare schemes for Dalit and Adivasi students—Ashram schools and hostels—perennially suffer from low fund allocation, poor infrastructure, indifferent services and bad management. The scholarship scheme suffers from inadequate financial allocations leading to limited coverage, low unit cost and want of timely disbursement. The enforcement of sub-plans for Dalits and Adivasis to facilitate the targeted flow of resources encounter huge problems such as resistance from sectoral ministries to earmark the desired resources, absence of a dedicated planning and implementation machinery, nonutilisation of available funds and their diversion and even misutilisation. Besides, the financial expenditure reported in respect of them is not linked to outcomes, thereby creating doubts about their effectiveness in achieving the intended purpose. The development programmes for minorities have design flaws due to the failure to include critical schemes relevant to Muslims, target them in infrastructure schemes, and the acute dissonance between indentified development deficits and interventions undertaken (Hasan & Hasan 2013); (Khan & Parvati, 2013). In respect of women, wholly funded schemes are too meagre to make an impact. Where 30% funds are earmarked, accrual of benefit to women is notional ex post facto and there is no linkage of expenditure with outcome. Schemes which address violence against women suffer from lack of capacity, infrastructure and staff support for enforcement. All four communities suffer even more in the market economy due to lack of capital and skills, and the discrimination encountered in credit, labour and produce markets. The enforcement of laws relating to prevention of alienation of Tribal land suffers from failure to register all cases, rejections of claims of Adivasis in a large number of them, procedural and practice related flaws in disposal and reluctance/indifference to deliver possession where land is restored by court orders. Besides, Adivasis are being

Introduction 25 dispossessed of their land on a large scale and rapidly as a result of compulsory acquisition by the state for development projects for which they receive low compensation and virtually no rehabilitation. This has increased landlessness amongst them the magnitude of which is unprecedented. The implementation of the Forest Rights Act faces huge resistance and even subversion from the forest bureaucracy, large scale rejection of claims, sanction of only a tiny portion of the land claimed where claims have been accepted, and a virtual refusal to entertain claims relating to community forest management, and enforce provisions relating to minor forest produce. Adivasis have also been disempowered by the development process due to its flawed conceptualisation. It has systematically eroded their control over natural resources and their way of life and has exposed them to myriad forces of exploitation through several regressive policies. Low Levels of Human Development The members of all four groups have very low levels of human development attainments with Adivasis being at the bottom of the ladder. The levels of poverty (no separate data for women is generated) are very high, literacy levels are low and health and nutritional indices are poor. The unemployment and underemployment is high among their members. They largely work in informal sector jobs with low wages, uncertainty of work, hazardous working conditions and rampant exploitation. Female workers also face sexual abuse and in many instances get trapped in trafficking. The incidence of child labour is the highest in these groups. Food insecurity is the most acute in the case of Adivasis and starvation forces some parents to abandon or sell their children. The access of households of these groups to civic amenities such as safe drinking water, sanitation, and public health is far lower when compared to those of dominant groups. The reach of welfare measures is also limited due to the apathy of officials, biases in delivery, and the absence of beneficiary participation. Denial of Justice There is widespread denial of justice to all the groups. The denial of justice is most pronounced in respect of communal/caste/ethnic violence directed against Muslims/Dalits/Adivasis and sexual violence in respect of women. The guilty do not get punished because the accused persons are able to manipulate the system with their capacity, resources, and social capital, and are hugely helped by the dilatory process of justice administration, shoddy investigation and prosecution and the biases of the prosecuting machinery, and at times, of the trial courts. The commissions for safeguarding their interests are powerless

26 Swaraj and the Reluctant State organisations which can, at best, document their suffering, but have no effective authority to either prevent violence and discrimination from occurring or ensure punishment to those accused of committing them. This situation is compounded by the attitude of the larger society (barring exceptions) which is indifferent to their suffering and is unwilling to take up their cause. A very large section of the society has even entrenched biases against these communities. The media has little interest in highlighting their plight generally except when major episodes of violence occur while there is abundant reporting about their negative profile. Muslims experience suspicion and even hostility particularly in the context of terrorist activities. Women’s movements have been able to generate greater empathy for the suffering of women in a large section of society, but patriarchal biases of male members tend to blame women themselves for this. Cultural Hegemony All four communities face ideological assaults on the cultural front. Muslims are denigrated in social discourse for markers of their identity—burqa, beard, skull cap—and are characterized as obscurantist, unpatriotic, backward, who refuse to change with times. Their customary laws, religious institutions, cultural practices and social attitudes are ridiculed and treated with disdain. They suffer disparaging comments of being anti-national and terrorists and are looked upon with suspicion even by public institutions and governance structures (Sachar Committee, 2006). The demolition of Babri Masjid was the climax of this assault. The demonisation of the Adivasis is embedded in Hindu scriptures. They are considered backward, lazy, and drunkards who are hostile to development. The cultural assault on them takes the shape of attempts at denial of separate identity and their aggressive assimilation in the Hindu social order. In the case of the Dalits, the ideological assault is entrenched in untouchability practices of the caste society-social segregation, and revulsion towards their occupations and ‘unclean’ living. The ideological assault on women is manifested in imposing, propagating, and enforcing patriarchal values. The cultural assault is aimed at subordinating the four groups at a low level within the hegemonic dominant social order and creating pressures for inducing change in their beliefs and practices in accordance with it. Deficit of Participation in Decision Making All four groups experience deficit of participation in the polity. In the absence of any reservation, the Muslim minority has the most inadequate representation in the elective institutions, ‘tokenistic’ representation in executive bureaucratic positions, and very low

Introduction 27 presence in party structures. All mainstream parties have neglected them, the worst being the BJP (Sachar Committee, 2006). The position is relatively better in respect of women than Muslims though it is confined to those of upper castes. The Dalits and Adivasis even with reservation in legislative bodies as well as public services do not have the desired clout in the decision making. They ‘have posts but not power’ (Mekkad, 2009). The representatives of all four groups who get elected to legislative bodies as candidates of political parties have to support their stands on various issues. The political parties have negligible space for the issues concerning Dalits and Adivasis, virtually nothing for Muslims and inadequate coverage of women in their agenda. The bill for 33% reservation for women in elective bodies faces huge roadblocks. Women, however, have 33% (50% in some states) reservation in Panchayati Raj institutions. As for participation in the bureaucratic structure, none of the four groups have representation as per their social strength. Dalits and Adivasis have reservation in public services and, though violated in numerous ways, have relatively better representation than the other two groups but are yet virtually invisible in private sector employment. Women of higher castes have larger representation in both public and private sector employment compared to Muslims and face relatively less discrimination in calls for interviews and selection compared to the other three. Muslims have the lowest representation in these positions both in public or private employment among all the four groups. Democracy and the Marginalised Social Groups Democracy is considered to be the only form of polity which has the potential of managing social diversity and promoting inclusive politics, equitable development and harmonious social relations. But the polity in India has not lived up to this ideal and its democratic character is under severe strain. Its institutions have failed to hold the state accountable for failure to protect their rights as citizens, create enabling conditions for enjoyment of their entitlements under the Constitution, laws and state policies, eliminate pervasive discrimination and exclusion, and provide opportunities for participation, political and bureaucratic, comparable to those enjoyed by the dominant sections. Muslims, Dalits and Adivasis feel betrayed as these institutions have not taken up their cause and therefore are deeply alienated from them. They are seeking alternative routes of articulation of their concerns and assertion of their rights. Women too feel neglected by these institutions except when there are headlines-grabbing episodes, but adopt a dual route for raising their concerns, as part of their community and as women, depending upon the context.

28 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Economy Dalits, Adivasis, Muslims and women of their communities were among the poorest in the country. In the post-independence economy, the state had a crucial role in addressing the economic marginalisation of these groups through centralised planning. But there was no targeted intervention of any significance in their favour in the earlier years. Major interventions were made to reduce poverty in general. Over the years, the approach to combat poverty encompassed four strategies— through growth, redistribution, targeted programmes, and provision of basic needs. The rate of growth until recent times has been low and its benefits failed to trickle down to these groups due to the low rate of employment generation, particularly in agriculture, and its negative effect on levels of real wages. In the periods of high growth rates too, these groups failed to reap benefits due to failure of economy to generate adequate employment, increasing casualisation of work opportunities, poor rate of agricultural modernisation, low status of human development, of these groups rising inequalities and virtual drying up of government jobs which provided some representation to the Dalits and Adivasis based on reservation. In these periods, the conditions of the overwhelming majority of all four groups have worsened. Uncertainty of work, low wages, oppressive working conditions and income fragility add to their vulnerability both as wage workers and self-employed in the unorganised sector where they are able to get some work. They get lower status jobs, lower wages and earnings compared to the workers from dominant social groups and, in addition, face discrimination in the labour market. The members of these groups have the largest presence in the bottom, three deciles of consumption expenditure (Sengupta et al, 2008). Adivasis experience the highest incidence of deprivation of productive assets, distress migration, hunger and food insecurity and child labour. Muslims in addition to sharing the above features with the three groups, suffer acute discrimination in labour and credit market and avenues of higher mobility. Gender inequality is widespread across social groups and within them. The discrimination against them is manifested in the lower sex ratio, infanticide and foeticide. All four groups fare poorly in the human development index— level of education and access to health, nutrition, housing, drinking water, and sanitation. Income, assets and consumption inequalities are shared by Dalits, Adivasis and Muslims including their women when compared to the higher caste groups. The shift from welfare to market economy has distinctly contributed to this position. Overall, none of the four strategies of economic development has been able to significantly reduce poverty. While economic growth has bypassed them, redistributive reforms have had very limited success. But even

Introduction 29 targeted programmes have failed to reach the most deserving among them and those at the bottom. The provision of basic needs was insufficient and there too they encountered discrimination in delivery. Character of the Indian State From the foregoing, what kind of a picture do we get of the Indian state and its relationship with the marginalised groups? Has it shown any seriousness in eliminating factors contributing to their marginalisation? Since the roots of marginalisation lie in the extremely skewed distribution of power emerging from the social structure, based on caste, religion, patriarchy and ideology of nation building and development, one would have expected the Indian state, given the ethos of its Constitution, to have the vision of an unambiguous political goal of restructuring these social, political and economic relations for establishing a broadly egalitarian society. Sadly, neither from the policy documents/pronouncements nor from political statements of the rulers who have governed since independence do we get evidence of such a political goal having been set by the state for itself. It at best stands for mild reforms of this structure through a process of gradual change to which affirmative policies were expected to contribute in a small measure. The state certainly never contemplated nor does it approve of radical change. Even the mild reforms it contemplates are through legal entitlements and welfare programmes enforced through bureaucracy. It envisaged no role for political mobilisation in promoting this social change in which the marginalised people could themselves be an active agent. No group in the Indian national movement advocated a radical structuring of social and economic relations, putting the interests of the marginalised groups in particular and the poor in general, at the centre of articulation of political goals in the polity to emerge. Certainly, the ideology of the Congress party as reflected in its Planning and Programme Committee did not contemplate such an overhaul. With all his socialist leanings, even Nehru, while laying down a blueprint for a modern industrial society in India, did not think that removal of social and economic inequality emerging from the age old social structure and colonial intervention was necessary for its realisation. Later experience showed that his agenda of industrialisation further marginalised the groups as they became its victims (Mendelsohn and Vicziany 1998). The leadership was basically statusquoist except for the removal of its perverted manifestations as it did not wish to destabilize the existing social economic arrangement. The Indian state is the weakest when it comes to pursuing reforms which change the structural roots of marginalisation whether economic, social or political. This is typically reflected in the failure to carry out

30 Swaraj and the Reluctant State effective land reforms to change the agrarian structure which unleashes caste domination and oppression, vigorously enforce land alienation and forest laws and stop acquisition of land owned by Adivasis to arrest the process of their disempowerment. There is similar reluctance to aggressively curb caste and ethnic violence and eliminate untouchability. The unwillingness to punish perpetrators of communal violence and act upon reports of enquiry commissions set up to investigate them also emanates from the same weakness i.e., the fear of antagonising the dominant majority. The extension of development programmes outlined for Muslims to all minorities even when other minorities do not suffer the socio-economic discrimination, levels of poverty and underdevelopment also reflects the same shortcoming. The disinclination to interfere in the structure of patriarchy, customary personal laws of the communities particularly of the minorities, failure to ban Khap Panchayats or Shalishi Sabhas in the case of Hindus and the readiness to neutralise the Shah Bano judgment in the case of Muslims for fear of provoking a backlash of the male dominated social order fall in the same category too. It should be evident to anyone who sincerely looks for ways to achieve an equitable social and economic order that deeply rooted structures like caste, ethnicity, patriarchy and religion cannot be reformed through slow, gradual and incremental reforms and that those who stand to benefit from the existing system would only consolidate and strengthen their position vis-à-vis those whom they subordinate, given the historical advantages accruing to them as the polity stabilises. Even the failure of the reformist approach has not convinced the ruling class about the need for a radical change. The marginalisation of social groups would therefore persist since the political goals of the Indian state which permeate its structures of governance are still guided essentially by the class/caste/ethnic/communal/gendered interests of those who hold the reins of power. Worse, even the commitment to gradual reform has been halfhearted. Reforms introduced were too limited and the instruments designed to effectuate them were weak and were made progressivity weaker to accommodate powerful interests. But even these half-hearted reforms were poorly enforced. This is glaringly evident from the skimpy achievement of laws enacted for this purpose such as land reforms laws to change agrarian structure and labour laws to change the unequal employer—labour relations. The laws were diluted and their implementation was defeated, the former by the legislature, and the latter by the bureaucracy and the judiciary whose members came from the landed and caste interests. This was further aided by complicit police machinery, reprisals and violence by landowners and employers,

Introduction 31 dilatory judicial process and the lack of organisation among beneficiaries. The enforcement of other protective laws suffer the same fate. This situation is not confined to the delivery of justice alone. The marginalised groups fail to get even their welfare and development entitlements due to an insensitive and unresponsive delivery system. And yet, there is no political determination to change the situation so as to give a clear signal about its commitment in this regard. As against this lamentable performance, the level of enforcement and delivery is markedly efficient and effective where the interests of the dominant sections are served, as for example in forcible acquisition of land from farmers for development projects, and curbing political and social protests of workers against employers. The unwillingness to drive the bureaucracy to enforce affirmative policies in favour of the marginalised groups and hold it accountable for outcomes reflects its lack of sincerity in pursuing even the reformist agenda. This is because the marginalised groups do not pose a political threat to any government, but alienation of the dominant/powerful sections does. They constitute the real power base of the government whichever political party is in power. A significant dimension of marginalisation of identified social groups is the attitude and behavior of the larger society governed by caste in the case of Dalits, cultural hegemony in the case of Adivasis, communal orientation in the case of Muslims, and patriarchy in the case of women. Breaking these attitudinal and behavioural barriers would require not only enforcement of laws, equitable development and political empowerment, but also vigorous pursuit of social change through social reforms. For this, besides effective/affirmative laws, policies and programmes, action is also required on a social plane, in inter-personal behavior and transactions between groups, to erase prejudices and biases. This is an agenda to be pushed through liberal education, social mobilisation, and a sustained campaign to neutralise thoughts and beliefs which perpetuate biases. There is no evidence that the Indian state has ever contemplated action on this front. The pursuit of this social reform cannot be achieved without the widest possible political mobilisation in which the marginalised groups are galvanised as an assertive social force along with progressive sections of other groups as partners with the full backing of the state. The Indian state has singularly failed in taking the initiative towards such a reform agenda. It naively believes that social change would emerge on its own gradually. Those in positions of power have neither recognised the need for such an initiative nor through their individual behavior exemplified such change. The agony and despair of the marginalised groups can be summed up on two essential failures of the state—one, to deliver effective and

32 Swaraj and the Reluctant State expeditious justice against oppression, violence, exploitation and discrimination/exclusion; and, two, to provide stable livelihoods and social services considered essential for dignified living such as housing, drinking water, sanitation, education, health and social security. Of the two, delivery of justice is more complex but not insurmountable as it involves a diverse range of actors and time consuming processes. But the delivery of services and benefits is a relatively simpler exercise. Yet, marginalised groups encounter resistance/discrimination from the same structures of power—social and bureaucratic orders—which stand in the way of delivery of justice. The state has even failed to partner with beneficiaries of these services in a participatory mode of delivery to break this resistance. The state’s character is not merely reflected in the lack of will to enforce its own programmes of social justice and welfare but also in its overtly oppressive behavior when for lack of options, marginalised groups take to resistance by various means including the use of violent means. Instead of contextualising such resistance in the lack of hope in people to get justice and interpreting it as a wake-up call to deliver it, the state resorts to unaccountable violence against people involved in resistance. This violent response includes enactment of draconian laws which deny civil rights in the areas of operations and immunity of security forces against legal liability for excesses committed in pursuance of their operational action. These are manifested in fake encounters, custodial killings, rapes, destruction of property, and incarceration of a large number of ‘suspects’ from the weaker communities without trial under the cover of maintenance of order. The violence is also inflicted on the whole community in the area in the course of investigation of criminal complaints or acts of terrorist violence and in the routine search and combing operations both as a reprisal to the violent incidents suspected to be committed by their members as well as a pressure tactic to extract information about the accused persons. The state even resorts to sponsoring and encouraging vigilante resistance groups to put up counter-resistance as a part of this operation and protects acts of violence of their members. Muslims in the context of the Kashmir issue and Adivasis in insurgency affected areas are major victims of this violence. The plight of members of the marginalised groups against this violence is infinitely worse than the oppression they face from local landlords, money lenders etcetra. since security agencies have insulated themselves from any legal accountability provided by special laws and the protective shield provided by the state. The complaints against such violence when lodged are dismissed as false or collateral damage. In these situations, the state is directly instrumental in the marginalisation of the groups.

Introduction 33 There is not even an affirmative agenda to address this oppressive behavior. The class character of the Indian state is most starkly evident in its economic policies which benefit the dominant economic interests—large farmers, businessmen, industrial groups, upwardly mobile sections of the middle and upper classes/castes but are insensitive to the adverse and even disastrous impact on the marginalised groups. This has been more pronounced in the neo-liberal phase of our economy. These policies have reinforced the existing structures of power, negated the modest benefits accruing through affirmative policies and destroyed livelihoods without providing alternative avenues of dignified survival. These policies have pushed the members of the marginalised groups to the destitute labour market with uncertainty of work, low wages, subhuman living conditions, hazardous working environment and multifaceted exploitation which have further lowered their quality of life. The three marginalised ethnic groups and their women have overwhelmingly shared this adversity. The state is thus enlarging the ambit of marginalisation and disempowerment rather than eliminating it. The Indian state in relation to the Adivasis has also exposed its predatory character. It has deprived them of the control of natural resources — land and forests—in their territory which constituted the edifice of their livelihood, social and cultural organisation and values. It has increasingly dispossessed them of their land through diverse ways—land reforms, land acquisition, survey and settlement operations, delegitimized their traditional communitarian practices—management of land, shifting cultivation and development practices, and pushed immigrants in large number into their area to change its demographic character. This failure to effectively implement land and forest laws further compounds this process and reinforces its predatory character. The state has emerged as aggressively assimilatist towards minority cultures which cuts at the root of social diversity and cultural autonomy granted by the Constitution. This is particularly evident from the enumerating of Adivasis as Hindus in the census operations ignoring their animistic faith and characterising them as backward with concerted attempts to ‘modernise’ them so as to mould them in the social and cultural value system of the majority community. This approach is symptomatic of its unwillingness to recognise and accommodate different cultures. This has contributed to the increasing erosion of all that is valuable in the Adivasi culture and pushing them to the bottom of social hierarchy, lower than even Dalits. The track record of the Indian state, thus, is no different from western countries in relation to their indigenous people whose territories they colonised—the only difference being that while the latter achieved their objective though physical

34 Swaraj and the Reluctant State annihilation, the former is doing it though growth and development. The ethnocentric construct of the nation state by the dominant majority and the failure of the Indian state to vigorously counteract aggressive Muslim bashing by Hindu rightist groups and its capitulation to their opposition to development measures focused on Muslims also reflect the same streak. The Indian state is most reluctant to share power with the marginalised communities. This is evident from their very low representation in decision making bodies and institutions where power is exercised. Whatever political representation the marginalised groups get is due to the constitutional requirements in the case of Dalits and Adivasis and the local demographic profile of the constituency in the case of Muslims, and is tokenistic in character. This exposes the hollowness of political equality and the democratic ethos. Even where it is compelled to accommodate these groups in structures of power, it is minimal and in doing so, the tendency is to favour docile elements who can be trusted to lend support to the interests of the dominant majority which controls all political parties. The representation of assertive members of these communities is neither promoted nor tolerated. This cosmetic power sharing fails to throw up assertive leadership capable of articulating interests of their communities and meaningfully influence the process of decision making. This contributes to the perpetuation of dominant interests duly legitimised by marginalised groups. The Indian state has shown a security centric bias in dealing with the alienation of marginalised sections and their anger and frustration in failing to get their grievances redressed in a system heavily loaded against them. This is manifested in the numerous movements—peaceful and also those with violent underpinnings. The most prolonged of such movements involve the Adivasis in the northeast and in now central India as well as Muslims in Kashmir. These movements are essentially political. Far from adopting a political approach to deal with them through dialogue, to address negotiation on the one hand and positive action on their grievances on the other, the state has pronouncedly viewed them as a security threat and sought to crush them through military intervention. Northeastern states have been under the blanket of this security regime continuously since 1958. People’s opposition to continuation of the security-centric blanket symbolised by the draconian laws in the northeast and Kashmir has met with stiff refusal to lift this cover. The Indian state has also failed to live up to the secular character of the Constitution and earn the trust and confidence of minorities in its ability to deliver justice and even treatment to them vis-à-vis the majority

Introduction 35 population. This is particularly true of Muslims who have been victims of mass violence, hate campaigns, neglect in development and raw deals in getting a share in power. Though Sikhs in 1984 and Christians in Odisha have also experienced mass violence but those have not been a recurring phenomenon. The two also do not share the hostility and exclusion which Muslims face. As a result, the community was forced to negotiate its own relationship with the dominant majority which is indifferent at best and arrogant and hostile at worst. Even with regard to protection against mass communal violence, the track record of Indian state has been abysmal—even worse than what the Adivasis and Dalits have experienced in the cases of atrocities. Also, no effective and comprehensive action has been initiated to sensitize the members of the security apparatus against their communally biased action. It has neither intervened effectively to curb hate speeches nor counteract communal propaganda through affective political action. The state in India has not shed its essentially colonial character and ethos to transform itself into a truly democratic political institution. This is starkly evident from its bureaucracy, security apparatus and justice administration system. There is ample evidence that the bureaucratic structure is unsuited to enforce social welfare legislation and development programmes for the poor in general and the marginalized sections in particular, given its class/caste/communal/ patriarchal orientation. While this recognition has led to several reform attempts, these proposals have merely touched the procedural, behavioural and organisational aspects of its internal working without any radical change in its structure and ethos. The reluctance to change the security apparatus—police, para military forces and intelligence agencies—is even more pronounced than civil administration as is evident from the failure to act upon reports of National Police Commission despite Supreme Court directives. Justice administration is another area where reluctance to change the colonial system is pronounced. There is no dearth of evidence regarding how SCs/STs/ Muslims/women get a raw deal in the delivery of justice. In fact, their members by and large do not even seek its intervention due to the lack of faith in it. They mostly get involved in it as accused rather than as seekers of justice (Dhagamwar,2005). Yet the state has failed to undertake even minimalist structural changes to make justice administration system friendly and responsive to the marginalised groups. The state has emasculated all external institutions charged with the protection of interests of the marginalised groups to render them incapable of holding it accountable for its acts of omissions and commissions. Their assertiveness in discharging their role is severely

36 Swaraj and the Reluctant State undermined by failure to make appointments to positions of chairperson/members with requisite knowledge, expertise and experience and filling them up with party loyalists, defeated politicians, and docile representatives of the community who would cause no embarrassment to the government. The effectiveness of these commissions is also circumscribed by lack of sufficient funds, functionaries and powers. Their advisory character makes them toothless and powerless. Their reports when submitted are not discussed in the Parliament let alone acted upon. The state agencies whose actions are under scrutiny also do not take the recommendations of these reports seriously. The marginalised communities have failed to get any relief from them and have no faith in their capacity to hold official agencies accountable for delivery of their due entitlements. What Lies Ahead How are the marginalised communities facing the onslaught of forces pitted against them and the state which has failed them? None of these groups is a mute spectator to its continuing marginalisation. There have been resistance movements—violent and non-violent—against marginalisation since the colonial period. The response of the state ranges from indifference to co-option and suppression depending upon the specificity of the situation, the capacity of the movements to sustain their struggle and the degree of support they are able to get from liberal and progressive sections of the larger society. The democratic polity, however, fragile and elite captured does provide some space to exert pressure for change and reform though radical changes are ruled out. The more intense a movement and the larger the support exerted by civil and political society, the greater is the inclination of the state to accommodate some demands. A number of significant concessions have been ‘snatched’ from the state through some sustained broad based peaceful movements such as laws relating to forest rights, employment guarantee, Information, social security for unorganised workers, food security, domestic violence and sexual harassment at work place, manual scavenging and atrocities on Dalits and Adivasis. Even the longest lasting movement and that too, with violent underpinnings, the Maoism, though most brutally suppressed, also brought recognition to the failure of the state to enforce laws in favour of Adivasis and emphasised the need for bridging the development deficit and trust in respect of them. But, as we have seen, what has been gained through struggles has been lost by lack of enforcement. Overall, however, the prospects of any radical change in Indian society to realise substantial and substantive equality—social, economic and political — in the near future are bleak. The established dominant

Introduction 37 structures of caste, ethnicity, religion and gender are still too strong to dislodge and getting consolidated in the social environment created by a neo-liberal economy. But precisely this situation is also creating enormous social discontent leading to resistance. The limited option for the marginalised groups is to use all available political spaces to gain incremental concessions towards neutralising their marginalised status. In this endeavour, Dalits and women stand a better chance than Adivasis and Muslims. Between the latter two, Muslims have greater capacity to use political space and negotiate with the state and larger society than the Adivasis though they face greater hostility. The Adivasis with no such capacity would emerge as the new Dalits of the emerging society at the bottom of the social hierarchy. There is no prospect of their ever getting even a modicum of their original strength back. PART II Swaraj literally means self-rule. The political context of India’s freedom struggle against colonial rule in which this word was used and gained currency as a catchy slogan for effective mobilisation of people has tended to narrow its relevance to the political dimension of this expression implying political independence from what is perceived as foreign rule. But the conceptualisation of Swaraj as articulated by Gandhi in his 1909 classic Hind Swaraj and associated writings give it a much wider and more profound meaning. It implies at the level of an individual freedom to act as per his/her feeling or choice. It is a condition where one’s thoughts and actions are guided by one’s free will unfettered by any constraints, the free will representing the conscience, the innerself or the moral force. If the operation of this free will is impeded by constraints, it is necessary to remove them to attain Swaraj. The struggle for realisation of Swaraj therefore, involves eliminating obstacles that stand in the way of an individual freedom of action as per his/her conscience. In the Gandhian scheme, this struggle should however, be carried out by non-violent means through pursuit of truth and self-discipline. Swaraj at the level of a group or a society is achieved when this condition of freedom is realised by all individuals who constitute it. The struggle for Swaraj in the Gandhian view therefore goes much beyond attainment of political independence. It requires restructuring of society and inducing changes in individual behavior as per the moral principles laid down by him. That is why Gandhi regarded the struggle for Swaraj to be incomplete even after India was free from colonial rule. It would remain incomplete if only a few individuals moulded themselves on these lines, but others have not internalised this change. The struggle for achievement of Swaraj is

38 Swaraj and the Reluctant State therefore a long drawn out process and a continuing effort. Gandhi also severely critiqued western civilisation, its industrialisation, materialist ethos, parliamentary democracy and acquisitive culture. Swaraj for India as per his conception would require the state to discard structures, institutions and values of western civilisation and reconstruct the country on the lines of its ancient culture and traditions and centrality of the nearly self-sufficient village economy. Swaraj thus presents a holistic vision of society, polity and economy as well as individual behavior and lays down a rigorous path of its realisation. It provides guiding principles for those who wish to pursue its attainment in their specific situations. In the expanding canvas of seeking its relevance, it has been interpreted by scholars to imply as self-realisation or selfdetermination i.e., the urge to attain one’s fullest potential. In this broad sense, it can be pursued by any agency, individual, group or even a territorial unit (a village, town or region) that feels stifled, suffocated and obstructed to realise its dormant aspirations, and creative possibilities (Mohanty, 2015). Swaraj along with satyagraha is also viewed as a process of resolution of conflict arising from unjust laws and policies, social discrimination, political repression and individual aggression and a method for achieving peaceful change (Suffla et al, 2010) The vision of Swaraj is thus contextualised as each agency would have to redefine what constitutes it in its situation. It emerges as a condition which enables an individual or a group or a nation to actualise its potential for growth and advancement, bring to fruition its latest talents and strengths and effectuate its aspirations. The route to achievement of this capacity may however, be confronted with constraints of various types—structural, attitudinal, operational etc. The struggle for Swaraj, therefore, involves identification of such constraints and strategising efforts to eliminate or neutralise them. As per the Gandhian prescription, non-violent means, pursuit of truth and use of moral force would represent the fulcrum of these efforts. The notion of Swaraj, is therefore dynamic and evolving (as it was in Gandhi’s own writings) and its contours are getting creatively enlarged by individuals and agencies across the world making use of it for unshackling their chains of crippling constraints for accomplishing their vision. The list of such creative users include besides individuals and groups, social movements fighting for a wide variety of causes such as environmentally compatible economic growth, equitable development, inclusive participation, social justice, cultural autonomy, protection of human rights and delivery of right based entitlements, and those fighting against hegemonic forces-local, national and global. The participants of the seminar on Hind Swaraj including those who spoke and presented

Introduction 39 papers in it reflected these varying shades of vision of Swaraj which would be evident from the texts of the papers included in this book. Such has been the overpowering attraction of the concept that the people placed in different situations find its relevance to the cause they are pursuing. It has particularly inspired the poor and oppressed in general and the marginalised groups in particular to organise themselves for collective struggles to overcome adverse situations confronting them which generate inequities, oppression and violence and destroy their traditional institutions, social networks, knowledge and value systems, and make a determined effort to change them. The summaries of papers included in this volume that follow would provide a synoptic view of the diversity of Swaraj’s use in different contexts and varying strategies used for its pursuit, ranging from Adivasis’ fighting against loss of land and livelihood, forced displacement, destruction of their environment and cultural alienation, Muslims against hate speeches, discrimination and organised violence, Dalits against the atrocities of caste based social order, and women against patriarchal oppression, to South African scholars addressing issues of inter-personal and xenophobic violence, safety of children against fire hazards, and identifying the parameters which should define a peaceful nation to become the base for constructing a Global Peace Index.

The liberation of Dalits from institutionalised inequality, exploitation and subjugation imposed by the Hindu social order has passed through a long and tortuous process with the destination not yet in sight. In this ongoing journey, P.S. Krishnan examines the views primarily of Gandhi and Ambedkar (with Narayana Guru also referred to in places) bringing out the comparisons. This has been done drawing upon the historical narratives of social justice movements and speeches and writings of those leaders, divergence of those leaders on their respective positions in respect of political representation, educational advancement, economic mobility and social equality, and social action in pursuance of their goals. The analysis has highlighted the relative depth of their understanding of the roots of social and economic exclusion Dalits face and the route to their emancipation from this disability. The paper describes how the rare convergence achieved between Gandhi and Ambedkar in the agreement called the Poona (Yervada) Pact, 1932 could be implemented only after independence when the Constitution of India proclaimed development of social justice as its motto in the preamble and enshrined in its provisions all its components under the stewardship of Ambedkar. Various laws and programmes introduced by the successive governments carried further this movement of social justice.

40 Swaraj and the Reluctant State But despite these instruments, the battle is far from over even after sixty years of the constitutional order having been established. The translation of these entitlements into benefits to the affected groups continues to face tough resistance from the caste-based social hierarchy whose dominance is intact. The Dalits and other marginalised groups despite their numerical strength are powerless to influence governance and change the mindset of other caste people. Untouchability continues to be rampant in many parts of the country. Atrocities against these groups when they seek to secure their rights show no sign of abatement or diminution. The vast majority of their population has not yet been able to cross the line of economic freedom and self-respect. Even the benefits of reservation have failed to reach the required levels due to numerous ways of deprivation resorted to by bureaucracy dominated by higher castes. There continues to be wide inequality in educational levels and in opportunities for advancement. The shift to neo-liberal economy has not only worsened their condition, but also led to dwindling of commitment to pursue the agenda of social justice. Gandhi’s concept of Swaraj cannot be achieved without the liberation and empowerment of SCs/STs/OBCs for which a programme of action has been suggested by the author. Ajay Gudavarthy refers to the rich discourse on the assessment of Gandhian philosophy and praxis reflecting a sharp divide between the euphoric nationalist variant of his contribution to promoting a secular, democratic policy based on non-violent and moral principles, and the extremely critical view of Marxists and subaltern scholars who accused Gandhi of failing to question the vested interests of dominant social classes and communities which arrested radical social transformation of society. To this binary discourse has been added the critique articulated by the Dalit and feminist intellectuals who find inadequacy in both schools in respect of evaluating Gandhian thought and practices for their failure to authentically represent the social reality due to the lack of direct experience. The author finds convergence between scholars of Gandhian philosophy and praxis and the Dalit and feminist critique in that both revolve around the centrality and exclusivity of ‘lived experience’ as the basis for pursuing politics. The epistemai of both suffer from narrow particularism, insularity to any inter-subjective communication and dialogue and therefore end up entrenching the social practices they wish to transcend and thereby negate the radical structural transformation and forging of non-hegemonic solidarities for this purpose. The author cautions against the excessive pursuit of identity politics which militates against transformative politics.

Introduction 41 No understanding of the evolution of Indian nationalism and the issues thrown up by it culminating in the framing of the Constitution would be complete without reference to the antagonism between two stalwarts—Gandhi and Ambedkar, their understanding of Indian society and approaches to its transformation. Basanta Kumar Mallik’s paper brings out this ideological divide which assumed personal dimensions due to its far reaching implications for the course pursued by the two leaders. The ideological contrast centred around the social oppression of Dalits conditioned by caste driven Hindu social order and sharply surfaced when Ambedkar advocated separate electorates for depressed classes and Gandhi opposed it to a degree that he resorted to an indefinite fast against the decision of the British government to concede Ambedkar’s demand and thus exerting pressure on him to withdraw it. The resulting compromise was reservation of seats rather than communal electorates which later got incorporated in the Constitution. Ambedkar regretted it later and history has proved him right as in the former arrangement caste Hindus influence the election of Dalit candidates while in the latter arrangement it would have been otherwise. In the former (now existing) arrangement, Dalit candidates are completely dependent on caste Hindus who dominate all major political parties and the Dalit candidates fail to articulate and assert their caste interests for fear of losing their privilege. The GandhiAmbedkar divide was ultimately rooted in the role of caste in social transformation. Ambedkar unequivocally argued for its annihilation to improve the condition of untouchables, while Gandhi did not see caste as the culprit and wanted social reform among Hindus to end the injustice of untouchablity. The paper also brings out the contrasting worldviews of the two leaders, their vision of development in the new polity and the role of state in it and concludes that Ambedkar’s contribution lies in forcing national leaders to firmly embed the Constitution in the realisation of social justice. The paper on Gandhi and popular Hindi cinema corroborates the latter’s continuing love affair with Gandhi and his ideology. Coonoor Kripalani establishes this fascination through his analysis of various films which he divides in seven categories. The first category of five Hindi films focus on the ideal nation state as expressed in Hind Swaraj. This ideal nation state is upheld on celluloid by films dealing with social themes that showed solidarity with workers and peasants, glorified village life with superiority of manual labour over mechanisation, social ills of untouchability, self-sacrificing women as the ideal of womanhood and pride in the Indianness despite external trappings of foreign influence. The second category of films dealing with the national movement had

42 Swaraj and the Reluctant State the obvious imprint of Gandhi. Even films on war are considered Gandhian in spirit despite his creed of non-violence because they wage defensive battles. True to Gandhian opposition to partition, the third category of films generally depict the irrationality of this decision and people trying to unite as lovers and family members etc. The fourth category of films dealing with terrorism and violence explain that repression, persecution and injustice by the state provoke youth to violent action, but eventually convey the message that a life of violence cannot bring happiness and on the fallacy of using violence in the name of religion. The fifth category of films use the Gandhian ideology overtly and not as a backdrop where themes like assertion of truth and acting on the basis of conscience, resorting to moral protest to win a point rather than coercing authority are depicted. The sixth category of films feature Gandhi per se in different facets of his personality – as a freedom fighter, experimenter of satyagraha for resistance and as a family member enforcing his beliefs. The seventh category of films tries to inform and educate the audiences who have long forgotten Gandhi despite his visibility through statues and photographs on the essence of his thought and how it can be applied to deal with the problems in daily lives. Overall, the depiction of Gandhi through films is confined to one or two tenets of his ideology and ignores many other facets. But their merit lies in popularising Gandhi to a new generation. The biopic is hesitatingly venturing into Gandhi the man as opposed to Mahatma or the Father of the Nation depicting his faith. The former dimension cannot be picked up readily for making films because of his iconic image in the popular psyche. Human rights have now come to be regulated as universal, inalienable, indivisible, interrelated and interdependent. Most states have ratified one or more of the core human rights treaties. Human rights entail the obligation of state to refrain from any action that interferes with the their enjoyment. Human rights and human development are closely related. The latter implies creation/expansion of opportunities and capabilities to enlarge people’s chances to lead a productive and satisfying life. Both share a common purpose and reinforce each other where they are pursued together. The rights provide the tools to secure human development. The human rights perspective of development shifts focus to realisation of social justice by eliminating deprivation based on exclusion/discrimination. The right to development is now a human right embedded in the UN Declaration implying free, effective and full participation of all concerned in the polity. It revolves around equity and social justice, going beyond the notions of economic growth. D. Jeevan Kumar in his paper relates this perspective to the Gandhian

Introduction 43 paradigm of development conveyed by Sarvodya which places emphasis on material, mental, moral and spiritual development of all members of society and measures progress in terms of human happiness. It stands for co-sharing and cooperation rather than accumulation and competition. This goal cannot be realised without Antyodya, the welfare and development of the weakest in society. The author argues that a paradigm shift in the approach to development is needed to realise the perspective contained in the UN Declaration and the Gandhian concept of Sarvodya. This shift in thinking would imply pluralist approaches, national and international accountability, and an inclusive model of political participation and social, justice to be realised through both—civil and social economic and political rights. Despite the fact that Gandhi held Hindi cinema in distain, there was no love lost in Hindi cinema for Gandhi. Rather, he seems to be omnipresent in many recent films in terms of ideology, metaphor and essence. Dhananjay Rai in his paper has detected Hindi cinema’s relationship with Gandhi in three ways: ‘direct-reference’, ‘indirect reference’ and, ‘unseen reference’. Presenting a detailed critique of the film, ‘Gandhi, My Father’, he argues that converging with the philosophical terrain of Gandhi, Hindi cinema’s presentation of him shows the absence of dialectic. There is the absence of the ‘other’ concerning Gandhi wherein Gandhi is a leading protagonist. Very few films pose challenges to this image. The popular Hindi cinema ironically has become one of the alter egos of Gandhi notwithstanding his negative perception of this art form. Due to the way Gandhi is understood and presented, a convergence has emerged between the two. This helps each other not only in the sense of defence and propagation of his values but also the exclusion of unfamiliar voices. Gandhi and cinema thus draw values to construct altogether different realms but a similar value system. India has been facing the challenge of terrorism. Terrorist attacks which claim large scale casualties create enormous pressure on security forces to deal with this multifaceted and multi-causal phenomenon. Sumit Mukherjee’s paper locates the roots of terrorism in several factors— poverty and economic deprivation, ideological indoctrination, psychology of revenge against perceived injustice, personal abuse and humiliation, longing for identity, need for a sense of belonging, and frustration arising from non-fulfilment of political, social and personal needs and argues that policy makers should deconstruct the impulse towards terrorism in individual terrorists while devising a policy to deal with them. But he laments that the security establishment overwhelmingly subscribes to the belief that military operations can

44 Swaraj and the Reluctant State break the bone of militancy and feels that apart from dialogue and packages of economic development, the Gandhian non-violent alternative of psychological warfare directed towards transformation of the thinking process of militants should be pursued to deal with it. He is extremely critical of state agencies resorting to counterterrorism through encouraging non-state actors to inflict the same type of violence on the terrorists and their families which the latter inflict on the security forces and general public. State terrorism thus assumes more atrocious forms than those of the terrorists besides eroding the moral and legal legitimacy of the state itself in the process. The transformative paradigm of Gandhi, according to him, is the best and a more durable antidote to terrorism and militancy. It includes measures for equitable distribution of power and wealth, alleviation of social oppression and counterbrainwashing to dismantle the convictional base of the terrorists. Policy makers should disabuse their minds that the military approach can neutralise it and abandon the belief that killing militants and torturing them to extract information is the surest guarantee against militancy and that reform of terrorists is impossible and they need to be liquidated or subjected to subhuman captivity. He has cited several cases of erstwhile terrorists who have severed their connections with the terrorist organisations and are engaged in welfare and humanitarian activities. Indian society is characterized by Institutionalized inequalities based on caste, ethnicity, religion and gender leading to marginalization of Dalits, Adivasis, Muslims and Women respectively in society, polity and economy. This marginalization is reflected in the lack of productive assets, gainful employment, access to public goods and development entitlements as also discrimination they face and violence inflicted on them by dominant groups and the state. Constitutional provisions and public policies have in varying degrees provided some affirmative action to combat this marginalization. K.B. Saxena has examined efficacy of the affirmative measures undertaken in respect of all four social groups under four themes—Protection, Reservation, Development and Participation and has observed that these measures are inadequate in conception and ineffective in execution requiting in failure to deliver social justice to these communities. The architecture of affirmative action is more elaborate and substantial in respect of Dalits and Adivasis and negligible in respect of Muslims but less so and more accommodative concerning women. But the enforcement of affirmative policies is uniformly dismal in respects all four social groups. He firmly believes that without structural transformation which changes social and economic relations these groups are enmeshed in and distribution of power, no dent can be made in marginalization of these groups. What

Introduction 45 is worse is that there is lack of sincerity and commitment to vigorously pursue even slow and incremental change to eliminate marginalization. Further, the changeover to market economy has eroded the limited utility of affirmative measures as the inequalities between these groups and the rest of society far from getting reduced have been widening. On the top of it, marginalized groups face the backlash from the dominant groups who seek to dismantle affirmative measures. This has further alienated the marginalized groups from the system, particularly the Adivasis, Muslims & Dalits. They are therefore, seeking avenues to change their condition outside the system but face increasing suppression of their efforts by the state leading to anger and frustration. This has grave potential for social instability. The author feels that it is a wakeup call for the state to eliminate their marginalization through vigorous and effective action against dominant communities resisting these efforts. Subir Rana’s paper traces the roots of the construct ‘criminal tribes’ in India in the exigencies of colonial governance/governmentality. The emerging political economy and social situation in the West in the wake of industrialisation, demographic pressure and growth of private property resulted in poverty, unemployment and alcoholism leading to proliferation of crime. The lower classes of people associated with this crime were stigmatized as barbarian and savages and nomads among them were hunted down. The emergence of a new science of eugenics provided the context to the social characterisation of crime, criminality and criminal classes which was employed to understand and deal with the similarly turbulent situation in India. This turbulence was the outcome of several factors these included repressive laws enacted by the colonial government which deprived certain social groups of access to livelihood resources thereby shrinking their subsistence base, abhorrence and revulsion of the British towards culturally specific actions of some communities deemed deviant, imperatives of maintaining law and order and preventing prospects of a rebellions from groups unwilling to abide by the moral order imposed on them and extreme suspicion towards ‘moving’ people who did not practise settled agriculture as way of life and were perceived as a potent threat. The enactment of a law was conceived to deal with such persons. The objective was in settlements to keep permanent, sendentrise them to justify punitive disciplining and policing them, and utilising their labour in production. For undertaking this massive social engineering, diverse knowledge systems—anthropology, ethnography and anthropometry—were skilfully harnessed to embed the essential

46 Swaraj and the Reluctant State hereditary character of certain groups in criminality and for construction of social categories and enforcing racial distinctness. The mission was executed by enactment of a penal code, the mechanism of census and fingerprint technology and parallel system of information gathering. These measures imparted a specific social identify to such groups by which they were represented in official and public discourses and socially stigmatised. This had a profound effect on the popular understanding of crime and criminality. The author laments that though the Criminal Tribes Act 1871 was repealed by the post-colonial state in 1949 it was replaced by a series of Habitual Offenders Acts 1952 serving the same function of identifying some groups as habitual offenders. Though the legal status of these groups has changed having been described as Denotified Tribes, the social status of criminality remains intact. Democratic consciousness has evolved from liberation of individual from the oppressive power of the state and stifling control of the community, through expansion of human rights so as to realise their fullest creative potential to the simultaneous extension of this process to the rights of groups who are disadvantaged by an unfavorable power distribution in a society characterised by multi-faceted diversity. Riaz Ahmed in his paper characterises all such groups as minorities so as to include within them Dalits, Adivasis, Muslims, Christians, Women and rescues the concept from its religion-centric definition which the dominant discourse on the subject in India imposes. The identification of minorities with religious identity in India has historical roots in the pre-independence communal mobilisation for capture of political power and the resulting partition. The mistrust against Muslims generated by it has been carried over to post-independence India and reflected in communal riots, attacks on markers of their identity and their religious and cultural institutions. The growth of terrorism worldwide including in India and global discourse on its causal factors have contributed to it. Christians have lately emerged as targets of mistrust on account of alleged religious conversion. The concept of minority rights has become a victim of this distorted perception and is aggressively sharpened by political parties and social groups with a communal orientation. The author seeks to rescue the concept of minority and minority rights form the terms set by this communalised discourse by drawing upon the notion of Swaraj as articulated by Gandhi in Hind Swaraj which is interpreted as self-determination and self-realisation not only of individuals but also of groups. The process of achieving Swaraj involves addressing unequal power distribution to bridge the democratic, development and security deficit of not only minorities but also of Dalits,

Introduction 47 OBCs and women within them. The minorities should network with one another to achieve it. Minorities constitute marginalised social groups in most countries. Muslim and Christian minorities are among the marginalised communities in the Indian society and polity. They are therefore faced with a major dilemma in political participation i.e., which party or candidate to support in order that their interests are best protected. In his paper focused on Muslims in Lucknow, Kim Chanwahn investigates that dilemma and finds that they support regional parties like SP (Samajwadi Party) and BSP (Bahujan Samaj Party) rather than pannational parties like the Congress and the BJP (BJP is out of the question in view of its strident anti-minority stance). Muslims are also divided on sectarian and caste lines like Hindus. In choosing a political leader and for casting their vote, they prefer someone from the same sect to which they belong. But if they perceive that their own sect candidate is likely to be defeated by a candidate from a fundamentalist party, they tend to vote for a candidate from a secular party even if he is from a different caste or sect. With regard to the choice of a language for use in public places, Muslims in the north prefer English due to its utility in the job market and English/Hindi for pursuing higher education due to the marginalisation of Urdu which they used prior to independence. As for their dilemma in sharing living space with Hindus, except in Gujarat, most Muslims elsewhere do not face any such dilemma. However, due to internal sectarian divisions within Muslims, they have reservations in sharing living space with fellow Muslims of the other sects. The hundred years of women’s movement in India has had a chequered history. Maithreyi Krishnaraj analyses its ups and downs, growth and fragmentation. During its pre-independence phase, it evolved from a social reform movement, raising issues of treatment of widows and child marriage, primarily pioneered by enlightened men, and restricted to upper caste women to participation in national movement and advocacy of educational development for women. It later transitioned to the formation of a separate organisation for seeking the right to vote and reforms in marriage and property laws. During this phase, the gender question demanding separate attention for women was not raised. The breakthrough came with the publication of report on the status of women, ‘Towards Equality’, in 1980s highlighting the discrimination against women in employment, education and health which led to the setting up of National and state level Commissions for Women. This

48 Swaraj and the Reluctant State phase also witnessed articulation of patriarchal social structure as the cause of women’s oppression and emergence of several mass movements involving women such as textile and railway workers’ strikes and fisherwomen’s protest against foreign trawlers. Diversified forms and styles were used to raise consciousness in women and in mobilising support from others with sexual exploitation of women becoming the focal point. Fragmentation also set in with the formation of many autonomous organisations, the academia-activist divide, and the NGOisation of the movement. The post-liberalisation phase has witnessed erosion of rights of women as workers, loss of assets and suppression of protest and disillusionment with the state. At the same time, consciousness in women has increased along with spaces for raising their issues and numerous localised movements. The author sees this diversification and intensification as the movement’s positive side rather than a negative factor. Women and girl children are devalued in Indian society. This is exemplified by India’s low position in the Women’s Development Index, lower in some respects than even Sri Lanka and Bangladesh. Among the several policy interventions to address this deficit, reservation of seats in Panchayti Raj institutions and extension of micro-credit to rural poor women stand out for their potential as instruments of their political and economic empowerment. Bidyut Mohanty’s paper assesses the impact of these measures in changing the status of women and concludes that they have not achieved their full potential due to institutional and social barriers. In terms of numerical coverage, both have significant reach. The impact of political representations has been mixed. On the negative side, political resistance to transfer of funds, functionaries and functions to the local bodies by higher organs of power and stratified village society with dominance of caste and patriarchy constrain realization of the potential of this measure. The positive side is reflected in the visibility of women in grassroot politics, targeting of welfare schemes benefiting women and emergence of natural community leadership. The micro-credit programme has reduced the vulnerability of women to disaster at family level and enabled women to meet their needs, but has failed to meet the strategic needs or challenge the oppressive power structure in the family. Its most negative dimension is indebtedness and shaming when they fail to repay loan in time due to the pressure exerted by microfinance institutions. Women have shown greater assertion, where the two programmes have been combinedly implemented with the help of NGOs. Some social barriers have been overcome where they have formed into collectives and have been supported by civil society organisations. The crucial factors in the

Introduction 49 empowering process are the quality of NGO support and building up of social capital in terms of bonding and social solidarity and the macroeconomic policy framework. Vidhya Das in her paper argues that Tribal communities had been practising Swaraj, as autonomy and self-governance since ages and virtually remained independent republics. This autonomy was, however, shattered when British colonised the area and introduced a new land structure and taxation system, appropriated forest, brought in the police, law and judicial system which led to their increasing dispossession from land, disruption of symbiotic relationship with forest and loss of self-governance. Tribals asserted their autonomy by resisting these changes through a number of Tribal revolts against the state, but paid a heavy price because these movements were suppressed by use of massive force. In the post-colonial state too, Tribals are asserting their autonomy by protesting against their exploitation by the agencies of the government—revenue, forest, excise, and police. By refusing to part with their land which is being acquired by the government and peacefully resisting their displacement at the cost of their lives, they have demonstrated their commitment to upholding Swaraj. People across the nation are protesting against the decisions of the centralized state which they perceive to be unjust. More such assertion of Swaraj should take place as the state is increasingly becoming insensitive to the suffering of people. In this respect, there is much to learn from the Tribal communities. They are fighting to get their rights for managing natural resources in their jurisdiction in harmony with nature recognised by law and the Constitution and are peacefully preventing policy decisions perceived to be harmful to them from being implemented even in the face of physical threats. Advocacy of and struggle for human rights by different social groups with varying relationships with the state authority are framed differently and the struggle for their attainment has varied effects on these relations. Kate Nash looks into the question of what human rights can do to civilize capitalist social relations in the context of three different models of human rights in their relationship to capitalism—the ideological model constructed on the basis of Marxist writings, the reformist model based on T.H. Marshal’s writings on citizenship, and the third model reflected in Gandhian ideas about civilization in Hind Swaraj. Human rights in the Marxist model are conceived as inherently egoistic, property and competition-centric, which contribute to social relationship of conflict and destroy social relations. Political rights which promote solidarity, freedom and harmony broadly akin to welfare state

50 Swaraj and the Reluctant State can never be realised in the social relations produced by capitalism which produces greed, fear and envy. The reformist model of Marshal believes that citizenship rights through provision of political including civil rights to life, liberty, security, participation and social amenities like education, health, housing etc. have a civilising impact on the inequalities of capitalism and contribute to class abatement though it does not lead to a just or equal society. These models, however, do not produce the kind of social relations which Gandhi envisaged in Hind Swaraj and are deeply valued by those who follow them; these are things that can be sustained only in village life. Within this community life, enjoyment of any right internal to the community or pursuit of political equality is not necessary because it is imbued with spiritual and moral values. The author argues that various social environments demanding different kinds of human rights from the state are more akin to the reformist model insofar as they gain protection from state repression and violence. But a more novel model of human rights movement in India is where it is focused on resisting acquisition of land and deprivation of access to forests and fishing which threatens livelihood and disrupts existing social living. These categories of human rights movements are closer to the Gandhian model rooted in Indian civilisation. In this sense, human rights movements by presenting an alternative to industrial neo-liberal capitalism, can civilise capitalism. Hind Swaraj’s critique of western civilisation is amply corroborated in indigenous people’s movement in Latin America. This is the theme of Monica Bruckmann’s paper. Starting as a resistance movement against Eurocentrism resulting from five centuries of colonization, its rationality, knowledge system, idea of modernity and model of development, the movement builds on the rich historical roots and ancient civilisation and challenges governments and political power in several countries of the region. It has constructed an alternative vision of political society which is ‘plurinational’, based on unity in diversity, recognition of an indigenous civilisation as a source of knowledge, skills and identities for the construction of a collective future, conception of land as source of life and water and a space where life is created rather than an object of possession and an instrument of generating wealth, elimination of domination or discrimination based on race, ethnicity or gender and a social and ethical alternative to the market. The movement has resurrected community organisation based on the principle of reciprocity and solidarity in different movements of indigenous people while creating new forms of collective authority and communitarian governance. Its strategy for integration of indigenous people based on geographical and cultural dimensions has put these key issues centre-

Introduction 51 stage in public discourse which the author feels would redefine the politics of the region. Rashid Ahmed, Kopano Ratele and Umesh Bawa interpret Gandhian ‘satyagraha’ as a potential process of resistance against violence in a high risk environment of social inequality, injustice and oppression. Their critique of modern civilisation in Hind Swaraj is a condemnation of capitalism, colonial domination and its brutalities. This was contested by the assertion of cultural superiority using the power of ‘satyagraha’ (non-violent resistance) rather than through retaliation resorting to violence. But such resilient behavior in a society is culture specific and may not emerge in a society of differing cultural values. The weapon of satyagraha draws upon tenets of sacredness of life, self-restraint, benevolence, and piety. Satyagraha is seen as cultural resistance to overcome oppression whether at a personal or political level. It becomes a mechanism for coping with and changing an adverse situation. While conventional thinking on resistance strategies places stress on building supportive relationship, and community cohesion as protective factors against risk of violence, the uniqueness of satyagraha lies in that it does not attempt to adapt to an oppressive environment but to change it. This is achieved by some form of social action within the framework of non-violence. The authors suggest that potential utility of satyagraha as a possible intervention in a situation fraught with violence needs to be further explored, investigated and researched. Non-violence is the sheet anchor of the struggle for realisation of Swaraj whether at the level of society or individual. Prevention of violence for transformation at different levels and in different contexts is one dimension of this process. The paper of Kopano Ratele, Shahnaz Suffla, Sandy Lazarus and Ashley Van Niekark attempts this in the context of male inter-personal violence which is a serious problem in South Africa by developing a conceptual foundation for it drawing upon public health and social science perspectives. The social science approach helps in understanding that this violence results from interaction between environment, socialisation and behaviour at the level of populations with a multitude of factors contributing to it. At the same time the health perspective provides confidence that it can be prevented by carefully working out evidence-led interventions to be structured at various levels of universal, targeted and specified populations and environments. The authors, however, caution that those following the public health approach should not lay claims to accommodate diverse perspectives on the subject and be scientifically neutral. It merely allows their coexistence in the prevention of violence. Since public health is defined

52 Swaraj and the Reluctant State by its multi-disciplinary orientation, other perspectives can be introduced to explain why such violence occurs and accordingly design preventive measures. In this manner, violence can be dealt with at the macro-level as well as at the level of individuals, families and communities respectively. This multi-disciplinary approach is not only desirable but also necessary given the complex underpinnings of the phenomenon in its various dimensions. Mohamed Seedat, Umesh Bawa and Kopano Ratele explore the contemporary relevance of Hind Swaraj to the phenomenon of violence, its diverse manifestations in South African society and the way to prevent it. This investigation has been contextualised in the xenophobic violence of 2008 which targeted the immigrant Zimbabweans resulting in 69 deaths, thousands getting displaced and widespread but unarticulated psycho–social trauma. Despite its peaceful transition to becoming a democratic country, xenophobic violence in South Africa against foreigners from African countries has been traced to the state engineered internecine violence in the apartheid era. Post-violence scrutiny attributed this phenomenon to the interplay of socio-economic variables—poverty, inequality, joblessness, and poor delivery of services which led to the corrosive perception of foreigners stealing South African jobs, houses and women and reflected the failure of affirmative policies to bridge social and economic inequalitieties. The second explanation sees in this violence a failure to collectively internalise the democratic and humanitarian values of the Constitution and philosophy of Ubuntu, an African variant of humanism and decolonising thought processes and socio-economic realities. These explanations called into question the efficacy of the Moral Regeneration Movement conceptualised in terms of the eight core values initiated by Nelson Mandela who exhorted people to practise moral living and cultivate civic virtues. The inculcations of this civic morality was perceived as a route to achieve safety, security, removal of corruption, containment of HIV AIDs, redressal of inequalities and poverty and nation building. These core values are akin to the vision which can be discerned from the contemporary understanding of Hind Swaraj and are in line with South Africa’s own tradition of Ubuntu— tolerance, harmony, respect and promotion of reconciliation, cultural plurality, diversity, anti-racism and anti-sexism. Civic mindedness would purge any attempt to seek redressal of problems in infliction of violence on others. The authors argue that while the values enshrined in the South African constitution foster this civic mindedness and liberal-communitarian citizenship, compassion is necessary to transcend narrow self-interest and feel for the suffering of others. The practice of compassionate and critical

Introduction 53 citizenship (community participation) both in formal politics and officially legitimised fora called the ‘invited’ spaces as well as ‘invented spaces’ where collective participation is marked by contest, criticism of and resistance to the dominant ruling order is essential for strengthening bonds of solidarity and preventing any attempt to seek redressal of problems in violence. Ashley van Niekerk gives a contemporary interpretation to the concept of Swaraj, first, as a process of developing an understanding of a social situation and second, as a positive strategy of social development in the context of childhood burn injuries in South Africa. He attributes the greater occurrence of childhood burn injuries to social inequalities based on class or gender which create contextual barriers to the safety and protection of children. These typically include poverty and intragroup economic disparities which are responsible for informal dwelling structures with their lack of demarcation of cooking and washing areas, storage and use of paraffin or kerosene, restricted home space with temporary internal divisions made of curtains or tall boards which expose children to thermal equipment and kerosene/coal or wood fired stoves and hot water cylinders etc. which undermine the caregivers’ ability to protect the children in hazardous home environments. The vulnerability of a child is due to the limited physical and cognitive capacities and its dependence on its caretakers saddled with the domestic and economic burdens. Unlike in India, boys are more susceptible to this risk in South Africa because of differential socialisation. The author suggests preventive safety measures such as utilisation of appropriate construction materials, management of inflammable substances and installation of electricity which are difficult to implement due to cost, constrained spaces and multiple daily demands on families. Relying on Hind Swaraj’s accent on freedom, social justice and development, the author advocates reduction in social inequalities and a dedicated organisation to champion the cause of child injury prevention. That violence as a mode of seeking social and political change can destroy an entire society and condemn it to acute underdevelopment has been highlighted in the paper of Masood Ahmed in the context of Afghanistan. Faced with a harsh nature and caught in the crossfire of super powers wanting to establish their hegemony, violence packaged in religious rationale has developed as a route to liberation from ‘foreign’ occupation. This has extracted a heavy price in the form of low human development indicators—poverty, food insecurity, illiteracy, lack of health facilities and low quality of life. In this situation, attempts to

54 Swaraj and the Reluctant State deliver development through financial and service inputs flounder because of the wide-spread physical insecurity which service providers face. The paper argues that development cannot be forced on the population from outside. The people themselves have to articulate the need for development and demand it. This urge to seek development remains dormant at present as they face the more serious problem of their independence on which they are concentrating their energy. No amount of foreign aid can bring about development until the people battle out the politics of violence within society and create minimum conditions of peace for development to be reached to them. Hind Swaraj and associated writings of Gandhi dealing with satyagraha lay down a route to peaceful resolution of social tension and conflict through pursuit of truth, self-discipline and civil disobedience directed against unjust laws and policies and are designed to produce changes of heart in the adversary, changes in society against unjust social practices and changes in ruling establishment against a repressive political order. Shahnaaz Suflla, Mohamed Seedat and Abdulrazak Karriem in their paper have creatively interpreted this spiritualised construct of the process to make an incisive scrutiny of the articulation of peace emerging from peace psychology literature and Global Peace Index (GPI) formulated by Steve Killelea. The latter ranks countries according to their level of respect for human rights arranged around three key measures a) domestic and international conflict b) societal safety and security and c) militarisation. Based on data provided by GPI on relative significance of various determinants of peace, societies termed peaceful are characterised by low levels of internal conflict, accountable governments, strong economies, harmonious social relations and good relations with the international community. Both South Africa and India rank low in this index (2009); the former is placed 123 among 144 countries while the latter is at 122. India’s rank has declined over the years on account of the high level of internal conflicts, weak human rights culture and high level of militarisation. The authors question the better ranking of USA (83) whose track record of causing external conflict, resultant human casualties and human rights violations is very poor. They believe that while GPI helps in identifying factors contributing to the promotion of peace—non-violent means of resolving conflict, pursuit of a just society focused on equity access, granting of human rights along with mechanisms of their realisation, it ignores the negative influence of economic globalisation on social determinants of peace. This economic order increases marginalisation of some countries in the global order and generates higher level of inequalities between groups, increasing the level of deprivation and competition for limited

Introduction 55 resources and therefore creates structural conditions for violence leading to more intensive military responses. The authors feel that climate change, globalisation and restrictive economic systems are insufficiently considered in GPI. They call for revision/expansion of indicators to reflect the influence of globalisation as also additions to measures within the existing indicators so as to replace the notion of national security with human security stressing human well being as a driver of peace. B N Prasad’s paper discusses three dominant ways of induced development and social change, each characterised by different means and processes to achieve their objectives in the context of rural Bihar along with their structural limitations and impact on social and economic equality. The development executed by legislative process is termed as kanoon development. The second typology of development is pursued by compassion and persuasion labelled as Karuna. The third category of development is pushed by violence and has been labelled as Katla. The first is a typology of state imposed action. The second is an example of Gandhian methodology. The third exemplifies the ideology of the left wing movement. The Kanoon model is what is practised in a democratic society, i.e. by enacting progressive laws and executing them. The Karuna model was experimented with by Gandhiji in South Africa and refined in Sabarmati Ashram in India in the form of social and economic activities. It was carried further by Vinoba Bhave through his Bhoodan and Gramdaan movements. The author argues that violence in Indian society is embedded in the miscarriage of both kanoon and Karuna models. Neither of them succeeded in changing the agrarian social structure and exploitative social practices leading to erosion of dignity of the poor peasants which led to the Naxalite movement. Central Bihar which is served by canal irrigation leading to the pursuit of commercial agriculture also produced the right conditions for this movement to emerge. This area is characterized by extreme discontent among the poor, increasing differentiation in the peasantry, growing depeasantisation and migration of landless labourers to urban labour market, non-implementation of minimum wages, capture of gair mazuria (common use) land by the rich peasants and denial of electoral rights to the marginalised groups by the landlords. Added to this was the customary social oppression of Dalits. The Maoist movement capitalised on these issues and attracted the lower classes to its fold. The author concludes that the only alternative to violent social change is to mobilise masses through Gandhian methods for a participatory democracy through which people would be able to establish an egalitarian social order. The emerging powerful middle class should take the lead to promote this change.

56 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Rajakishor Mahana in his paper attempts to construct the repressive character of the Indian state in response to resistance by people against injustice. This has been done in the context of Tribal resistance in Kashipur and Kalinga Nagar in Odisha against forcible acquisition of their land for industrialisation. He argues that violence experienced by people in the process of resistance generates greater determination to challenge the unjust order. This coercive portrayal of state power is weaved through a sequence of events, highlighting incidents of manipulative action of the state machinery and violence inflicted on agitated Tribals to force them to surrender their land. It highlights its many dimensions—the nexus of officials with private companies, violation of existing entitlements of people in the laws, undemocratic nature of decision making lacking in concern for the plight of the affected people, cheating people with false promises to procure their consent, suppressing dissent by manipulating proceedings of meetings, unwillingness to hold a company accountable for its promises, and the questionable paradigm of development etc. The discourse brings out different facets of human nature in the course of resistance—pain, suffering, courage, cooption, bonding, fissures in resistance, destitution, and impoverishment, and the loneliness of the victims of violence with no social support. The author however, feels that the violence has a positive side too. The collective experience of suffering creates a new community bonding which provides moral support to the movement and energises it to fight not only this but other unjust battles too. It also produces awareness about the role of the state, the market, the civil society and about their rights. This has a great transformative impact on the Tribals and enables them to look at the world outside more critically. It eventually becomes an empowering process to make them more assertive about their rights. Faced with adversities, and failing to get justice from the state Odisha Tribals’ experiment with Gram Swaraj i.e., collective political action to achieve their objective and its success and failure is the theme of Achyut Das’s paper. He cites two examples of success in which nongovernmental organisation headed by him was involved in assisting Tribals in this endeavour. The first success story related to the Tribals organising themselves to establish community rural banks to liberate themselves from the scourge of debt bondage which resulted in reduction in money lending, strengthening food security and pursuit of self-sustaining development. The second success story related to the Tribals’ struggle to assert their rights of access to collect and dispose of minor forest produce against the policies of the state government to exercise control over this resource which led to their exploitation by

Introduction 57 the contractors supported by the forest bureaucracy. Unmindful of repression unleashed by state agencies, they were able to exert pressure on the government to liberalize its policies to accommodate their concerns. The failure of the Gram Swaraj experiment was witnessed where Tribals resisted acquisition of their land for mineral extraction and industrialisation by corporate agencies. The state unilaterally took possession of their land by using force and violating human and legal rights leading to their displacement and impoverishment. No help was forthcoming from the state government to promote sustainable and community oriented rehabilitation to spare them the resultant misery. Taking inspiration from Gandhi’s concept of Swaraj and Rural Reconstruction, the author has experimented with a model of development which utilises natural environment, shuns technological intervention for production of food and energy, and construction of houses promotes labour cooperation rather than competition and seeks to attain mastery over the self. This model has been translated into reality in a settlement called Navadarshanam near Bangalore. The settlement has come up on degraded land where nature was permitted to restore its inherent productive capacity and vegetation; farming has been practised without any intervention of technology and food pattern and cooking methods have been used that make digestion easy and effective, and gobar gas, solar power and wind power have substituted electricity. The people stay there as a collective entity and eat from a common kitchen. The atmosphere is free from competition and acrimony. Each resident attempts to attain mastery over self in one’s own way. Atmaram Saraogi who is a founder trustee of this institution has argued that this experiment is an attempt to implement the vision of Hind Swaraj in individual lives and demonstrate the utility and sustainability of the Gandhian model of living for others to practise if they are drawn towards it. Influenced by Gandhi’s concept of Gram Swaraj aimed at self-reliance of every village, Sujit Kumar Chattopadhyay’s paper deals with a model of alternative paradigm of development as practised by a nongovernment organisation, Gandhi Vichar Parishad in Bankura District, one of the most backward areas of West Bengal. This work specifically targeted gender inequality and underdevelopment reflected in early marriage, discrimination against the girl child, low female literacy, violence against women and non-participation of women in decision making. Since these practices are rooted in popular culture, sustainable development of women was adopted as the route to social reform and empowerment of women. The development programmes were planned

58 Swaraj and the Reluctant State and executed by a decision making body called Lok Samiti consisting of all adult members. The operative principles of this body included decision making by consumers, provision of access to facilities and benefits with priority given to persons from the lowest rung of society in the spirit of Antodyaya, settlement of all disputes within the village and the spirit of cooperation in the societal behavior and activities. Women were helped to overcome their gender constraints through programmes of awareness, spread of literacy, thrift- cum-credit groups for income generation, the movement against consumption of liquor and for environmental improvement. These programmes have led to the awakening of women and changing their conditions. It is hoped that this volume would contribute to the continuing interest in Swaraj and use of it by the marginalised groups covered in this paper for transforming their lives and crafting their destiny as per their dreams. REFERENCES Agnes, Flavia (2005): ‘Politicization of Personal Laws, A Study of Colonial India’, in Ray, Bharati (ed): Women of India: Colonial and Post-Colonial Periods, Vol. IX Part 3 of D.P. Chattapodhyaya (ed), History of Science, Philosophy and Culture in Indian Civilization, Sage, New Delhi. Austin, Granville (1966): The Indian Constitution: Corner Stone of a Nation, Oxford, Delhi. Basu, Aparna (2005): ‘A Century and a, Half’s Journey: Women’s Education in India, 1850s to 2000’, in Ray, Bharati (ed): Women of India: Colonial and PostColonial Periods, Vol. IX Part 3 of Chattopadhyaya D.P. (ed), History of Science, Philosophy and Culture in Indian Civilization, Sage, New Delhi. Chakravarti, Uma (2004): ‘Conceptualizing Brahmanical Patriarchy in Early India: Gender, Caste, Class and State’, in Mohanty, Manoranjan (ed), Class, Caste, Gender, Sage, New Delhi. Coomaraswamy, Radhika (2005): ‘Identity within: Cultural Relativism, Minority Rights and Empowerment of Women’, in Jai Singh, Indira (ed), Men’s Laws, Women’s Lives, Women Unlimited, New Delhi. Cox, David Ray (2001): ‘Marginalization and the Role of Social Development: The Significance of Globalization, the State and Social Movements’, in Singharoy, Dabal K. (ed), Social Development and Empowerment of Marginalized Groups, Sage, New Delhi. Desai, Neera and Krishnaraj, Maithreyi (2004): ‘An Overview of Status of Women in India, in Mohanty, Manoranjan (ed), Class, Caste, Gender, Sage, New Delhi. Deshpande, Ashwini (2013): Affirmative Action in India, Oxford, New Delhi. Dhagamwar, Vasudha (2005): Role and Image of Law in India: The Tribal Experience, Sage, New Delhi. Gayer, Laurent and Jaffrelot, Christophe (eds) (2012): Introduction: ‘Muslims

Introduction 59 in the Indian City from Centrality to Marginality’, and Conclusion: ‘In their Place? The Trajectories of Marginalization of India’s Urban Muslims,’ in Gayer, Laurent and Jefferlot, Christophe (eds), Muslims in Indian Cities: Trajectories of Marginalization, Harper Collins, New Delhi. Hasan, Mushirul (1997): Legacy of a Divided Nation: India’s Muslims Since Independence, Oxford, Delhi. Hasan, Mushirul (2002): Islam in the Sub-Continent: Muslims in a Plural Society, Manohar, New Delhi. Hasan, Mushirul (2003): Making Sense of History: Society, Culture and Politics, Manohar, New Delhi. Hasan, Zoya (ed) 2000: Politics and the State in India, Sage, New Delhi. Hasan, Zoya and Hasan, Mushirul (2013): ‘Assessing UPA Government’s Response to Muslim Deprivation in India’ in Hasan, Z. and Hasan, M. (eds), India: Social Development Report, 2013, Oxford, New Delhi. Hensman, Rohini (1996): ‘The Impact of Industrial Restruring on Women, Men and Trade Unions’, in Sathyamurthy, T.V. (ed), Class Formation and Political Transformation in Post Colonial India, Oxford, New Delhi. Kaviraj, Sudipto (2000): ‘Modern State in India’, in Hasan, Zoya (ed), Politics and State in India, Sage, New Delhi. Khan, Jawed Alam and Parvati, Pooja (2013): ‘Government’s Commitment towards Development of Muslims: A Post Sachar Assessment of Uttar Pradesh and Haryana’, in Hasan, Zoya and Hasan, Mushirul (eds), India Social Development Report 2013, Oxford, New Delhi. Kumar, Ravinder (1997): ‘State Formation in India: Retrospect and Prospect’ in Doornbos, Matrin and Kaviraj, Sudipto (eds), Dynamics of State Formation, Sage, New Delhi. Mahapatra, L.K. (1993): ‘Customary Rights in Land and Forest and the State’, in Miri, Mrinal (ed), Continuity and Change in Tribal Society, IIAS, Simila. Mekkad, Sahil (2009): ’Dalits get posts but not power’, Hindustan Times, May 12, 2009. Mendelsohn, Oliver and Vicziany, Marika (1998): The Untouchables: Subordination, Poverty and the State in Modern India, Cambridge University Press, UK. Misra, Tilottma and Misra, Udayan (1996): ‘Movements for Autonomy in India’s Northeast’, in Sathyamurthy, T.V. (ed), Region, Religion, Caste, Gender and Culture in Contemporary India, Vol. 3, Oxford, New Delhi. Mohanty, Manoranjan (2015): ‘Panchsheel, Bandung and Global Swaraj’, in Darwis Khudori (ed), Bandung at 60: New Insights and Emerging Forces, Pustaka Palajar, Jakarta. Nambissan, Geetha B. (2001): ‘Equity in Education: The Schooling of Dalit Children in India’, in Shah, Ghanshaym (ed), Dalits and the State, Concept, New Delhi. Rao, Janardhan B. (1996): ‘Adivasis in India: Characterization of Transition and Development’, in Sathyamurthy, T.V. (ed), Region, Religion, Caste, Gender and Culture in Contemporary India, Vol. 3, Oxford, Delhi. Reddy, Haragopal Y.R. (1995): Bonded Labour System in India, Deep and Deep, New Delhi.

60 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Roy Burman, B.K. (undated): ‘Historical Ecology and Land Settlement Survey in Tribal Areas and Challenges of Development,’ Cyclostyled, Council for Social Development, New Delhi. Rudolph, Llyod I. and Rudolph, Susanne Hoeber (1987): In Pursuit of Lakshmi: The Political Economy of Indian State, University of Chicago Press, Chicago, London. Sachar Committee Report, (2006): High Level Committee Report on Social, Economic and Educational Status of the Muslim Community of India, Akalank Publications, Delhi.

PART I

GANDHI: THOUGHT IMPACT

AND

1 Synthesising the Gandhi-AmbedkarNarayanaguru-Marx Visions for Dalit Liberation* P.S. Krishnan The centenary of the earliest work of Gandhi, Hind Swaraj (Gandhi, 1938), which predates his recognition as ‘Mahatma’ is an appropriate occasion to recollect in tranquility his concept of Swaraj in relation to Dalits, its relevance to the present critical phase of the movement for Dalit liberation and empowerment and how far these ideas, synthesised with the ideas and visions of Ambedkar, Narayanaguru and Marx, can be forged into a powerful instrument to take this movement to a higher stage of effectiveness. For this purpose, I have looked not only into Hind Swaraj but also into the entire gamut of Gandhi’s writings, preachings and work as can be seen from his autobiography and collected works, Ambedkar’s writings and speeches and Narayanaguru and Marxist literatures. In Gandhi’s Hind Swaraj there is no direct reference to the large section of the people of India whom we now refer to as Dalits or Scheduled Castes (SCs), Scheduled Tribes (STs) and Backward Classes (BCs) or any of the names for these people in vogue at that time. This is comparable to the fact that even though he wrote about handloom and the spinning wheel in Hind Swaraj as a panacea for the growing pauperism of the people of India, he candidly admits that he had not seen a handloom or a spinning wheel at that time or even in 1914 when he returned to India (Gandhi, 1927/2009, Part V, Chapter XXXIX, p. 450).1 In his speeches, lectures and letters after he returned to India in 1914, he explains his concept of Swaraj in the context of the victims of ‘untouchability’. Gandhi’s Early Sensitisation against ‘Untouchability’ His earliest references to those whom we now know as SCs indicate * Earlier published in Social Change, Vol. 42, No. 1, March 2011.

64 Swaraj and the Reluctant State that he was aware of their existence but from the point of view of an urban resident. During a six-month visit to India in 1896 from South Africa, where he had been since 1893, he volunteered to work on a committee to help the sanitation department in Rajkot to prevent plague which had broken out in Bombay. The committee had to inspect ‘untouchable’ quarters also. Gandhi records that only one member of the committee was ready to accompany him to the ‘untouchable’ quarters. Gandhi also says that this was the first visit in his life to such a locality.2 This initial contact seems to have planted in his mind an association between the SCs and the scavenging profession, even though those engaged in that profession constitute only a small percentage of the total population of SCs and even of the specific castes to which such persons belong; the bulk of the SCs being agricultural labourers and petty peasants, a fact which had not been noticed by him at that time, and even later when he became aware that there were peasants among them, he was not aware that they were largely landless agricultural labourers. Later, Gandhi mentioned that his awareness of and attitude against ‘untouchability’ took shape much earlier when he was hardly twelve years old. He recalls in his address as President of the Suppressed Classes Conference held in Ahmedabad on April 13, 1921, a scavenger named Ukha, an untouchable, used to clean latrines in his house.3 He details the tussles between him and his parents about physical contact with Ukha. He points out that ever since he reached the years of discretion, he firmly held uncompromising views against ‘untouchability’ and in favour of equal rights for ‘untouchables’ in access to public schools, temples, wells etc.4 Gandhi noticed the invidiousness of ‘untouchability’ and the segregation of ‘untouchables’ in towns and villages. He refers to them as ‘some of the classes which render us the greatest social service, but we Hindus chose to regard as “untouchables”’ and they are ‘relegated to the remote quarters of a town or village called in Gujarati Dhedvado,...’5 This residential discriminatory situation continues in Gujarat as in the rest of India to this day except that the name Dhedvado is substituted by the euphemism of Rajvado. He compares them to the Jews in Christian Europe and to Indians as a whole in South Africa.6 The first comparison is not quite appropriate because there was a racial aspect and a religious aspect to the treatment of the Jews. The situation of the SCs is different in these respects. Ambedkar has correctly brought out the distinction between the isolation of the Jews in Europe and the compulsory segregation of ‘untouchables’ in India (Ambedkar, 1989). Gandhi found that Indians as a whole had become ‘the untouchables

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 65 of South Africa’. They were referred to as ‘coolies’, a term which had a contemptuous connotation meaning ‘what a Pariah or an untouchable means to us’. Their localities known as coolie locations were similar to the ghettoes of the Jews or the Dhedvados back home.7 Gandhi’s Apartheid Experience and its Reflection on his Antiuntouchability Sentiments and Perceptions Referring to the contemptuous refusal of an English haircutter in Pretoria to cut his hair, Gandhi connects this with the Indian caste and ‘untouchability’ situation with his observation that, ‘We do not allow barbers to serve our untouchable brethren’.8 Gandhi considered the travails of Indians in South Africa to be a retribution for the practice of ‘untouchability’ in India. Gandhi recorded his abomination of ‘untouchability’ in the following words: ‘Hindu defects were pressingly visible to me. If untouchability could be a part of Hinduism, it could but be a rotten part or an excrescence.’9 Here is perhaps the first instance of Gandhi’s famous formulation of ‘untouchability’ being an excrescence and not part of Hinduism, to which he returns again and again during his campaign against ‘untouchability’ after his return to India and taking over the leadership of the Congress. In a speech at Ahmedabad on June 5, 1916 reported in Gujarati on June 11, 1916, he pointed out that the whites in South Africa used to ask him during his campaigns what right Indians had to demand better treatment from them when Indians were ‘guilty of ill-treating the untouchables among us’.10 Gandhi often used the concept of retribution and retributive justice to bring home to caste Hindus the inequity of ‘untouchability’. In a speech of February 16, 1916, reported in The Indian Review of February 1916, he referred to ‘untouchability’ as ‘a curse that has come to us’. So long as it remains with us, he felt that, ‘Every affliction that we labour under in this sacred land is a fit and proper punishment for this great and indelible crime that we are committing’.11 In his article in Young India dated October 27, 1920, he pointed out as follows: ‘That we have become the “pariahs of the Empire” is, in Gokhale’s language, the retributive justice meted out to us by a just God ... should not we the Hindus wash our bloodstained hands before we ask the English to wash theirs?’12 Gandhi was conscious of the adverse consequence of ‘untouchability’ to India as a nation. In his speech at a conference on March 18, 1916 reported in the Vedic Magazine of April-May, 1916, he agreed with the opinion of Sir Sankaran Nair that, ‘We had lost India through inequity to the untouchables’.13

66 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Admission of ‘Untouchable’ Family in Gandhi’s Satyagraha Ashram On his return to India in 1914 after twenty-one years of stay in South Africa from 1893, he founded the Satyagraha Ashram in 1915 in Ahmedabad where he settled down. The issue of ‘untouchability’ continued to exercise him. He made it clear to his friends that he would ‘take the first opportunity of admitting an untouchable candidate to the Ashram if he was otherwise worthy’.14 A few months after the Ashram was established, an ‘untouchable’ family referred to Gandhi by Amritlal Thakkar (to whom Gandhi entrusted the All India AntiUntouchability League/Harijan Sevak Sangh set up after the Yeravda Pact and became respectfully known as Thakkar Baba) was admitted. It consisted of Dudabhai, his wife Danibehn and their baby daughter Lakshmi.15 The attitude of helpers in and financial contributors to the Ashram towards this family was negative. The significance of the admission of this family was, to Gandhi, a proclamation to the world that the Ashram would not countenance ‘untouchability’. But a conclusion that he drew from the fact that the expenses of the Ashram were mostly met by very orthodox Hindus was a ‘clear indication that untouchability is shaken to its foundation’ looks over-optimistic even from today’s point of view. He says that there were many other proofs supporting his conclusion, but does not mention what these proofs were, except the fact that good Hindus do not scruple to help an Ashram where Gandhi and his companions went to the length of dining with ‘untouchables’ which according to him was no small proof. No objective observer of Indian society even as of today, with all the changes that have taken place in almost a century after this episode, would endorse Gandhi’s over-optimism. Pre-Gandhi Social Justice Movements—Social Context of Gandhi’s post-South Africa India The India that Gandhi returned to from South Africa had undergone significant changes. The half-century prior to his return was a period which saw significant movements of people whom we now know as SCs and BCs. Egalitarian social movements, many of them reformist, and two of them even revolutionary [namely, those of Basaveswara (1134–96) in Karnataka and Sankardeb (1449–1569) in Assam], were a feature of Indian civilisation during even ancient and medieval times. I gave a description of this elsewhere in an earlier paper of 1994 (Krishnan, 1994). The half-century prior to Gandhi’s return was marked by significant social movements and events: the Breast Cloth Movement of the then ‘untouchable’ Channar women (same as Kerala’s Ezhava and Tamil Nadu’s Nadar, both listed now as BCs) launched in 1853 by wearing the upper cloth, in defiance of an age-old custom; the Sartorial

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 67 Reforms Act, 1859 of Travancore (now mostly part of Kerala) vesting in such Avarna women the right to wear the upper cloth; the first recorded case of admission of a boy of the Mahar caste (now listed as a SC) of Dharwar (then in the Bombay Presidency and now in Karnataka) and the upper caste resistance to it; widespread violence against ‘untouchable’ children going to school; the reformist and revolutionary efforts of social and socio-religious leaders like Mahatma Jotiba Phule (1827–90) in Maharashtra, Sree Narayanaguru (1856–1928) and Shri Ayyankali (1863–1941) in Kerala; and the responses of reformist princely state rulers like Chhatrapati Shahu of Kolhapur (1874–1922), Krishna Raja Wodeyar (reigned 1902–40) of Mysore and Sayaji Rao Gaekwad (1863–1939) of Baroda, all of which contributed to the creation of awareness of rights among the downtrodden. The slowly quickening tempo of the movement for social justice also found political expression early in the twentieth century in resolutions of the Indian National Congress and of pro-Congress groups and of the non-Brahmin Party in 1917, in which one can see the seeds of the demand for reservation and/or separate electorates. Opposition to ‘untouchability’ and disabilities imposed on the ‘untouchables’ or depressed classes also found expression in these resolutions. Opening of the Gandhi Chapter in the Congress It was in an India in which the problems, aspirations, demands and sentiments of the depressed classes had thus begun to be expressed in socio-political terms that Gandhi entered Indian politics in 1919, soon after his return from South Africa, and then took charge of the Indian National Congress, converting it from ‘a gathering of intellectuals’, as Ambedkar described the pre-Gandhi Congress, passing resolutions and doing no more, and termed by Swami Vivekananda as a ‘weeping Assembly’, into ‘a mass organisation’. That was how Ambedkar described the Congress after Gandhi’s assumption of leadership (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 16). The congress then adopted the policy of non-cooperation and civil disobedience, and courting jail in the process. Champaran, Kheda and Ahmedabad—Gandhi’s Introduction to Problems of Peasantry and Industrial labour When Gandhi entered the scene, his exposure to and knowledge of the Indian peasantry and the depressed classes were limited. His visit to and stay in Champaran in 1917 and his role in ameliorating the conditions of the tenants there, who belonged to castes now included among ‘Socially and Educationally Backward Classes’ (BCs), gave him a deep insight into the life and struggles of India’s peasantry.16 This

68 Swaraj and the Reluctant State insight was sharpened by the Kheda Satyagraha in Gujarat for relief in payment of revenue on account of widespread failure of crops. The Kheda experience came soon after Champaran which along with the strike of textile labourers of Ahmedabad gave him a close insight into the problems of industrial labour. Commencement of Gandhi’s Political Campaign against Untouchability At this stage Gandhi began to address the issue of abolition of ‘untouchability’ as a necessary part of Swaraj. One of his earliest references to this issue was in the Young India dated October 27, 1920 in which he exhorted the ‘untouchables’ to join the great national movement. In that article, he enumerated three courses open to the ‘downtrodden members of the nation’, namely, the SCs or ‘suppressed classes’, the term used by him in that article following Swami Vivekananda in preference to the term ‘depressed classes’. The first was to take ‘the assistance of the slave-owning government’. The second was ‘rejection of Hinduism and wholesale conversion to Islam or Christianity’. He ruled out conversion because, ‘Religion is a matter of heart’. He also advised them against resorting to the course of seeking the help of ‘the slave-owning government’, as by doing so, ‘They will be used for suppressing their kith and kin’ and thereby, ‘Instead of being sinned against, they will themselves be the sinners’. Therefore, Gandhi argued that the right course that remained for the ‘untouchables’ was that of ‘self-help and self-dependence with such aid as the nonPanchama Hindus will render’. He recommended to them the use of non-cooperation and suggested that by ‘way of protest against Hinduism, the Panchamas can certainly stop all contact and connection with the other Hindus so long as the special grievances are maintained’.17 But even this was not considered practicable by him as there was no leader among them who could lead them to victory through organised intelligent effort and non-cooperation. Therefore, he concluded, the best course for the Panchamas was to join the great national movement. Here one must observe the lack of realism behind suggesting that the ‘untouchables’ could afford to stop all contact and connection with other Hindus. Probably, he was not aware that the Panchamas were essentially agricultural labourers depending on other Hindus for their daily wages and livelihood and could ill-afford to boycott them. In fact, it is the oppressors of the ‘untouchables’ who are in a position to wield the weapon of social and economic boycott against them which they are wielding to this day in many places in India when the ‘untouchables’ seek their legitimate rights including the right against ‘untouchability’ or their Constitutional Right to Life under Article 21, which means and

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 69 includes Right to Life with Dignity, without subjection to ‘untouchability’. (Note: ‘Panchanmas from the fifth category (Varna) in the Indian caste system.) In fact, in the memorandum submitted by Ambedkar to the Minorities Committee of the Round Table Conference (RTC) in 1930, he mentioned that, ‘Social boycott is the most formidable weapon in the hands of the orthodox classes with which they beat down any attempt on the part of the Depressed Classes to undertake any activity if it happens to be unpalatable to them’ (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 43). He cites the report of the Starte Committee, appointed by the government of Bombay in 1928, which inter alia pointed out that there were two difficulties in the way of the depressed classes exercising the right to all public utilities ‘for a long time to come’, namely, ‘first, open violence and second and more seriously, social and economic boycott’, often imposed by the majority on the economically dependent and vulnerable depressed classes to prevent them from or to punish them for the slightest deviation from established oppressive customs or exercise of elementary rights (ibid. : 44). Therefore, in his memorandum, setting out the terms and conditions on which the depressed classes would consent to place themselves under majority rule in self-governing India, Ambedkar proposed inclusion in the future Constitution of India, under consideration by the RTC, of provisions, defining boycott and prescribing punishment for boycotting and instigating or promoting of boycott and for threat of boycott. Whatever was found by the Starte Committee was true when Gandhiji gave the depressed classes his well-intentioned but unrealistic advice. Unfortunately, the state Committee findings are true even today. It is ironic that such a serious group of crimes was not included in the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989 though I, from my then position as Special Commissioner for SCs urged the government, at meetings and in writing, to include this group of crimes by the headings of social boycott, economic boycott, social blackmail and economic blackmail in the Bill which was then on the anvil. I also urged the government through various public documents like the Dalit Manifesto and the Himalaya Proclamation formulated by me in 1996 and 2004 respectively to take due note of these crimes.18 Now, the inclusion of these crimes in the Act is one of the important amendments proposed recently to the government by the National Coalition for the Strengthening of the POA Act, 1989 and its Implementation, of which I am the Chief Advisor. Gandhi in the article ibid in Young India dated October 27, 1920 advised the Hindus to realise that, ‘If they wish to offer successful Non-

70 Swaraj and the Reluctant State co-operation against the government, they must make common cause with the Panchamas’. He asked the Hindus: ‘Should not we the Hindus wash our bloodstained hands before we ask the English to wash theirs?’ But, it is puzzling that in the next breath, Gandhi said that, ‘It is an impossible task’ because ‘a slave has not the freedom even to do the right thing’. It is difficult to agree with Gandhi that being under British rule in any way deprived caste Hindus of the ability to stop practising ‘untouchability’ against the ‘untouchables’. If that were the only obstacle, after 1947 it ought to have been possible for the dominant caste Hindus to have stopped practising ‘untouchability’. Instead we find that not only ‘untouchability’ is flourishing but also it has mutated into more virulent and subtler forms in keeping with ‘modern’ changes in society and has in addition graduated to the higher stage of systematic and regular atrocities, to deal with which the Government of India found it necessary to get enacted the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989. Again, according to Gandhi, ‘The process of struggle for Swaraj has commenced’ and ‘Whether the Panchamas deliberately take part in it or not, the rest of the Hindus dare not neglect them without hampering their own progress’. Unfortunately, the reality is that the struggle for Swaraj was successfully completed on August 15, 1947 and the rest of the dominant Hindus largely continue to neglect the Panchamas and their rights including the Constitutional Right to Life with dignity, that is, freedom from ‘untouchability’. Opposition to ‘Untouchability’ as a Consistent and Continuing Theme in Gandhi’s Political Campaign In the Young India of December 29, 1920, Gandhi warned the Hindus against ‘untouchability’ in the following words: Non-cooperation against the government means co-operation among the governed, and if Hindus do not remove the sin of untouchability, there will be no Swaraj whether in one year or in one hundred years... Swaraj is as unattainable without the removal of the sin of untouchability as it is without Hindu-Muslim unity. (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 37)

This was a bold formulation and by its token, the question arises whether what India has now, since 1947, attained Swaraj, as ‘untouchability’ continues to flourish. Or is it truncated Swaraj or is it incomplete Swaraj? In any case, obviously, it is not the Swaraj of Gandhi’s concept and if so the challenge remains before the leadership of the state, the government and the civil society of advanced classes including media to take steps to make Swaraj complete in accordance with Gandhi’s concept in this regard. In the Young India of May 25, 1921, as seen from Swami

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 71 Shraddhanand’s letter dated May 23, 1922 to the All India Congress Committee (AICC) General Secretary Vithalbhai Patel (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990, Appendix I, pp. 298–301), Gandhi put the question of ‘untouchability’ in the forefront of the Congress programme. In Young India dated November 3, 1921, he wrote: Untouchability cannot be given a secondary place on the programme. Without the removal of the taint Swaraj is a meaningless term. Workers should welcome social boycott and even public execration in the prosecution of their work. I consider the removal of ‘Untouchability’ as a most powerful factor in the process of attainment of Swaraj. (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 36)

Many of Gandhi’s formulations were unrealistic, but they showed that he had become acutely aware of and was seriously concerned about the Panchamas and the practice of ‘untouchability’ against them and took a firm stand against ‘untouchability’. In 1922, the Congress adopted a Constructive Programme of ‘social amelioration’ at the meeting of its Working Committee at Bardoli, held in February, 1922, known as the Constructive Programme of social amelioration and also as the Bardoli programme. One of the eight programmes of action contained in the Working Committee’s resolution was, ‘To organise the Depressed Classes for a better life to improve their social, mental and moral condition, to induce them to send their children to national schools and to provide for them the ordinary facilities which the other citizens enjoyed’ (ibid.: 20). This resolution was confirmed by the AICC at its meeting in Delhi on February 20, 1922. Thereafter, the Working Committee at its meeting held in June 1922, resolved to appoint a committee consisting of Swami Shraddhanand, Sarojini Naidu, I.K. Yagnik, and G.B. Deshpande to ‘formulate a scheme embodying practical measures to be adopted for bettering the condition of the so-called untouchables throughout the country’. This resolution was accepted by the AICC at its meeting held at Lucknow in June 1922 stepping up the amount to be raised for the scheme to ` 5 lakh from `2 lakh mentioned by the Working Committee. But, the correspondence between Swami Shraddhanand, on the one hand, and Vithalbhai Patel and Motilal Nehru, General Secretaries of the AICC, on the other, the dialatory movements of the matter between the Working Committee, the Depressed Classes Sub-Committee and the AICC and the cries of anguish of Swami Shraddhanand bring out the indifference of some of the important Congress leaders of the times to the humanist and patriotic idea Gandhi incorporated in the Bardoli programme. Swami Shraddhanand’s letters reflect his deep feelings for the ‘untouchables’ and against ‘untouchability’. Ambedkar refers to him

72 Swaraj and the Reluctant State as, ‘The greatest and the most sincere champion of the untouchables’ (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 28). To Ambedkar it was doubtless that if Swami Shraddhanand had worked on the committee, he would have produced a very comprehensive scheme. One of the interesting and significant convergences of Gandhi and Ambedkar is their assessment of Swami Shraddhanand and his work. Gandhi pays rich and respectful tributes to Swami Shraddhanand, his sincerity and his work in his various speeches of 1927.19 It is one of the misfortunes of India’s history that Swami Shraddhanand, about whose sincerity and dedication to the cause of the ‘untouchables’ both Gandhi and Ambedkar spoke in unison, was eased out of the Convenorship of the Committee and then out of the committee itself. It would appear that social conservatives in the Congress ensured that Gandhi’s emphasis on the removal of ‘untouchability’ was not put into practice. Much of what Swami Shraddhanand bemoaned like the lack of attention to the work pertaining to the ‘untouchables’ and the step-motherly treatment accorded to it in the matter of providing grants are true even today of what is happening with regard to matters pertaining to the SCs including allocation of funds to the Special Component Plan (SCP) for SCs and inclusion of liberating and equalising programmes with adequate funds and organisational arrangements in the SCP. It is worth remembering that Swamy Shraddhanand was the first person to use the term ‘Dalit’, translating Swami Vivekananda’s term ‘Suppressed Classes’ to refer to the ‘untouchables’ and Gandhi adopted Vivekananda’s term in 1920— an interesting and significant convergence. Finally, in May 1923, the Congress Working Committee washed its hands off this programme by assigning it to the All India Hindu Mahasabha, ‘Inasmuch this question of Untouchability concerns the Hindu community particularly’. Needless to say, the Hindu Mahasabha did not oblige. The treatment meted out to Swami Shraddhanand and the disposal of the Bardoli programme in respect of the depressed classes by shifting the responsibility to the Hindu Mahasabha drew justified criticism from Ambedkar (What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 24). Vaikkom Satyagraha and Gandhi Gandhi came closer to the issues of SCs (depressed classes/ untouchables) and BCs through the Vaikkom and Guruvayur Satyagrahas in Kerala, his interactions with Narayanaguru and finally his famous encounters with Babasaheb Ambedkar in the Second RTC and thereafter.

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 73 The Vaikkom Satyagraha, started in 1924, was the first organised mass struggle against ‘untouchability’ conducted in Kerala by the victims of ‘untouchability’. It was undertaken under the leadership of T.K. Madhavan, a prominent disciple of Sree Narayanaguru and a Congressman. He started it with the blessings of Narayanaguru. This Satyagraha, which was sustained over a long period of twenty months, mobilising directly and indirectly the entire populace of Kerala, the victims of ‘untouchability’ as well as others, attracting the support and participation of regional leaders of Kerala as well as outsiders like Periyar E.V. Ramasamy of Tamil Nadu (then in Madras Presidency), was not about the untouchables’ right of entry into the famous temple at Vaikkom. It was only for the right of the Avarnas (or untouchables or depressed classes) who included Ezhavas, now in the list of BCs, for the freedom to walk on the road surrounding the external wall of the temple. It secured all-India attention and Gandhi was among the national leaders who visited Vaikkom during the long Satyagraha and expressed solidarity with the struggle. There are many communications between Gandhi, K.P. Kesava Menon, George Joseph, K.M. Panikkar, C. Rajagopalachari, T.R. Krishnaswamy Iyer, etc., in all of which Gandhi supported the Vaikkom Satyagraha. In his article in Navajivan dated April 6, 1924, Gandhi referred to Vaikkom Satyagraha and its background: The accumulated burden of Hindus’ sins is big enough. ..., we have elevated wickedness to the place of dharma. My conscience tells me ever more emphatically every day that one such wickedness is the practice of untouchability. .... But with a view to serving these people kept at a distance and atoning for their own sins, Hindu members of the Congress in Travancore have started Satyagraha.20

Gandhi continuously expressed his appreciation of the significance of this ‘socio-religious movement’ in his various articles and interviews. But, unrealistically, he held that the silent, living suffering of one single pure Hindu as such would be enough to melt the hearts of millions of Hindus.21 Gandhi’s Meeting with Narayanaguru From Vaikkom, Gandhi proceeded to Sivagiri where Narayanaguru had established his ashram. Gandhiji appropriately and respectfully referred to him as His Holiness Shri Narayan Swami Guru. They conversed with the help of a bilingual interpreter. This was Gandhi’s first interaction with a stalwart of social justice who, as a Hindu religious saint, radically changed the social perception and self-perception of the Ezhavas and other ‘untouchables’ of Kerala, and this meeting was in

74 Swaraj and the Reluctant State the background of the mass movement started by Narayanaguru’s disciples for an elementary human right, and therefore it had a significance in deepening Gandhi’s understanding of the condition of the ‘untouchables’ or depressed classes, who included the present SCs and some of the present BCs. In the course of his responses to Gandhi’s queries, Narayanaguru confirmed his support for the Vaikkom Satyagraha against ‘untouchability’ and expressed the opinion that the struggle was proceeding on right lines (Balakrishnan, 1954/1969: 164– 67). Gandhi’s record of their conversation also confirmed that Narayanaguru entirely approved of the Vaikkom Satyagraha movement. Guruvayur Satyagraha and Gandhi The Guruvayur Krishna temple, then in the Ponnani Taluk of British Malabar and now in the Thrissur district of Kerala, was the venue of an important Satyagraha in 1932 which started with the agitation for securing the untouchables’ entry into the temple by a Congress leader K. Kelappan, a caste Hindu who was working for the cause of untouchables of Malabar. This Satyagraha too attracted wide participation of the victims of ‘untouchability’ as well as upper castes. Among the participants were E.M.S. Namboodirippad and A.K. Gopalan, then Congress Socialists, who later became important communist leaders of Kerala and India. On September 20, 1932, Kelappan commenced a protest fast lying in front of the temple in the sun. On Gandhi’s request he suspended his fast on October 1, 1932 (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 115–16). Gandhi frequently refers to the Guruvayur Satyagraha in different contexts. Gandhi’s Encounters with Babasaheb Ambedkar—Divergences and Differences Then followed Gandhi’s well-known interactions with Babasaheb Ambedkar. Gandhi’s Earliest Notice of and Reference to Ambedkar Gandhi’s first recorded notice of Ambedkar is in 1927 in his article in Young India dated April 28, 1927 in which he also expresses his support for the Mahad Satyagraha. The exercise of their lawful right to take water from the public tank on March 20, 1927 by the ‘untouchables’ gathered at a conference of depressed classes under the leadership of Ambedkar and the violence unleashed by a mob of ‘touchables’ on peaceful ‘untouchables’ was brought to the notice of Gandhi. Gandhi describes this incident as ‘unprovoked lawlessness on the part of the so-called higher castes...’. Gandhi was unequivocal about who was at fault—he

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 75 said that ‘.... the blame is all on the side of the “touchables”’. ‘Brute force will not sustain untouchability. It will bring about a revulsion of feeling in favour of the suppressed classes.’22 While Gandhi’s sympathies are very clear, he with unrealistic overoptimism refers to untouchability as ‘tottering’—more than eighty years after the foregoing event, it is still going strong in most parts of India. He was also over-optimistic about the generation of a revulsion of feeling among the ‘touchables’ in favour of suppressed classes. This has not happened even today on a general scale. Gandhi expressed appreciation for some ‘touchables’ who tried to defend the ‘untouchables’, but he pointed out that silent sympathy was of no use. He wanted that ‘every Hindu who considered the removal of untouchability was of paramount importance, should on such occasions prove his sympathy by publicly defending the suppressed classes and having his own head broken in defending the helpless and the downtrodden’. Gandhiji without reservation said that Ambedkar was fully justified in putting to test the resolution of the Bombay Municipal Council and Mahad Municipality by advising untouchables to quench their thirst in the tank. Thus, Gandhi’s introduction to Ambedkar and his work and his reference to them were positive and showed convergence. Unfortunately, this convergence did not continue and the divergences between the two began to find expression. Primary Divergence—Constitutional Project and the Yeravda Convergence The main divergence between Gandhi and Ambedkar arose against the background of the constitutional reforms which the British government was contemplating in partial response to the nationalist movement under the leadership of Gandhi. A Royal Commission under the chairmanship of Sir John Simon (Simon Commission) was appointed in 1928 by the British government. After the Simon Commission’s work, representative Indians were called to London at a RTC with the representatives of the British Parliament and the British Government. Ambedkar and Diwan Bahadur R. Srinivasan were invited to represent the untouchables at the RTC. Ambedkar was anxious that enlargement of the powers of Indians should be accompanied by adequate safeguards for the ‘untouchables’ so that the transfer of power did not leave them more vulnerable. The ideas of separate electorate and reservation in electoral seats as well as in posts under the state and educational institutions were in Ambedkar’s mind and he moved for them from Simon Commission (1928) onwards and pursued them at the RTCs of 1930 and 1931. While Gandhi recognised the fact of the age-old sufferings of the ‘untouchables’, he

76 Swaraj and the Reluctant State was against separate electorates for the depressed classes and initially was not even in favour of reservation. The opposing stands of Gandhi and Ambedkar at the Second Session of the RTC in 1931 under the chairmanship of the Prime Minister Ramsay McDonald and in one of the important committees of the conference, namely, the Minorities Committee which also held its deliberations under the Chairmanship of Ramsay McDonald, were recorded in detail. Ambedkar frankly points out that what happened in the Minorities Committee’s proceedings on the issue of separate electorates and other constitutional safeguards for the ‘untouchables’ was the root of the bitterness between the Congress and the ‘untouchables’ led by him. This was also the root of the bitterness between these two giants, one concentrating on national liberation and on the unity of people belonging to different religions and social classes and the other concentrating on Dalit liberation along with national liberation. The fundamental issue in the controversy between the Congress and the untouchables, according to Ambedkar, was: ‘Are the untouchables a separate element in a nation like India or are they not?’ (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 181). They were a separate element according to Ambedkar. According to the Congress and Gandhiji they are not a separate element but were a ‘chip of the Hindu block’. According to Ambedkar they were not only a separate element, but the most vulnerable section of the Indian population. From this difference arose the difference in their approach to the proposed Constitution for a free India. According to the Congress, the Constitution of free India would be democratic, based on adult franchise. Any safeguard devised for preventing the tyranny of a Hindu communal majority, besides adult suffrage, would be a ‘vivisection of the nation’. Ambedkar’s stand was that: Indian social life has to be reckoned in terms of communities. There is no escape. Communities are such hard facts of Indian social life that it would be wrong to accept that communal impulse and communal prejudice do not dominate the relations of the communities. The social psychology of the Hindu Communal Majority is dominated by the dogma which recognises not merely inequality but graded inequality as the rule governing the inter-relationship among the various communities. This dogma of graded inequality is absolutely inimical to liberty and fraternity. It cannot be believed that this graded inequality will vanish or that the Hindus will strive to abolish it. That is impossible. The graded inequality is not accidental or incidental. It is the religion of the Hindus. It is the official doctrine of Hinduism. It is sacred and no Hindu can think of doing away with it. The Hindu Communal Majority with its religion of graded inequality is not therefore a passing phase. It is a permanent fact and a

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 77 menace for ever. In making a Constitution for India the existence of a standing Communal Majority cannot be ignored and the problem of devising safeguards so as to reconcile it with political democracy must be faced. (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 170)

There is no need for me to dwell upon the details of the very educative presentations and exchanges in the Minorities Committee and in the Second Session of the RTC. Suffice it to say that the failure to arrive at a common agreement among the leaders representing different interests led to the ‘communal decision by his Majesty’s Government in 1932’ announced by the Prime Minister on August 17, 1932 which is referred to as the Communal Award. This Award provided for a separate electorate for the depressed classes and for special depressed classes constituencies where both candidates and voters would be only of the depressed classes. This arrangement was to exist for twenty years. This was followed by the protest fast unto death against the grant of separate electorates for ‘untouchables’, from the September 20, 1932, undertaken by Gandhi who was lodged in the Yeravda prison in Pune from the time he returned to India after the second RTC. The entire national leadership rushed to Yeravda prison in a bid to find a satisfactory solution and save Gandhi’s life. On their request Ambedkar also went to Yeravda. As a result of intense negotiations a compromise was struck between them whereby an agreement known as the Poona Pact or Yeravda Pact was signed on September 24, 1932 by which separate electorates were given up and a system of representation for the depressed classes by reservation in a larger number of seats then provided in the McDonald Award was agreed upon. This system of representation of the depressed classes in the provincial and central legislatures was to continue until a date determined by mutual agreement. There was also national agreement for the first time that the depressed classes should be represented in appointments in public services as well as in local bodies, in other words reservation in public services and local bodies. About this Pact, Ambedkar said that, ‘It conceded the political demand of the untouchables’ and that it did not cancel the Prime Minister’s Award as Gandhi had demanded ‘but only substituted another and a different system of constituent safeguards’ and there was no difference between the Poona Pact and the Communal Award (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 249, 259–60). The commitment regarding reservation in local bodies had to wait till 1993 when the 73rd and 74th amendments of the Constitution of India, 1950 came into force. In 1990 as Secretary, Ministry of Welfare

78 Swaraj and the Reluctant State (now trifurcated into Ministry of Social Justice & Empowerment, Ministry of Tribal Affairs and Ministry of Minority Affairs), I was involved in the inter-ministerial discussions which led to these amendments during which I insisted that reservation should be provided for the SCs and STs not only in seats but also in the posts of chairpersons of the local bodies. It is a matter of satisfaction for me that I could play this role in furthering a significant item in the Gandhi– Ambedkar synthesis of September 1932. There was also a little-known provision in the pact requiring that in every province out of the educational grant, an adequate sum shall be earmarked for providing educational facilities for the depressed classes—this was at a time when there was no developmental planning in India. This can be called the seed of the concept of the SCP for SCs which I conceived and developed in the late 1970s when I was Joint Secretary, SC and BC Welfare, Ministry of Home in the context of the much wider sweep of the system of planned development that took shape in independent India. The Yeravda Pact was perhaps the acme of the national movement when all previous bitterness was dissolved. Ambedkar records that after the Poona Pact he ‘proceeded in a spirit of forget and forgive’ (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 133). I consider it a coincidental good fortune of mine to have been born in the year which saw this glorious convergence of the nationalist and social justice streams of modern India. The Yeravda Pact describes itself as ‘the agreement which has been arrived at between leaders acting on behalf of the Depressed Classes and of the rest of the Hindu community regarding the representation of Depressed Classes in the Legislatures and certain other matters affecting their welfare’. Its signatories were representative of the entire spectrum of the national Dalit and civil society leadership of the country. The Congressmen among them covered different shades of opinion from the conservatism/traditionalism of Madan Mohan Malaviya to the liberalism of Tej Bahadur Sapru and the pragmatism of C. Rajagopalachari. Apart from Ambedkar, there were seven other SC representatives. There were also industrialists like G.D. Birla and Walchand Hirachand, social activists like H.N. Kunzru, P. Kodanda Rao and Hansa Mehta. Apart from these initial signatories many more appended their signatures the next day and subsequently making a total of eighty-seven. A photocopy of the document with all the signatures is one of my treasured possessions. It was a grievous misfortune of recent Indian history that the bitterness before this pact was not avoided though it could have been. It was another misfortune that the convergence that took place at

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 79 Yeravda and generous impulses that were generated and expressed immediately after the pact could not be sustained in the years that followed. The next day, on the September 25, 1932, there was a meeting of the Hindus’ Conference in Bombay to ratify and support the pact and action arising from it. At this conference, where warm and generous feelings, sentiments and resolves were expressed, inter alia, Ambedkar said, ‘My only regret is, “Why did not Mahatmaji take this attitude at the RTC?” If he had shown the same consideration to my point of view then, it would not have been necessary for him to go through this ordeal’ (Pyarelal, 1932: 189). This shows that there was the possibility of the consensus of September 24, 1932 being reached without any bitterness, and with harmony, a year earlier in 1931 itself. But, Ambedkar wisely chose to let bygones be bygones and continued to say, ‘However, these are things of the past. I am glad that I am here to support the resolution’ —that is, the resolution of the meeting ratifying and supporting the Yeravda/Poona Pact and resolving on the action programme. Referring to Gandhi as ‘the greatest man in India’, he expressed his happiness that it had been possible through the cooperation of all ‘to find a solution so as to save the life of the Mahatma and consistent with such protection as is necessary for the interests of the depressed classes in the future’. He gave a large part of the credit in the negotiations to Gandhi himself and effusively said, ‘I must confess that I was surprised, immensely surprised, when I met him, that there was so much in common between him and me.’ Paying encomia to Gandhi’s sincerity, Dr Ambedkar said: I do not think there is anyone among us who dare even for a moment to challenge or entertain any doubt about the depth of his conviction.... I feel it would be preposterous to doubt his sincerity in regard to the question of the depressed classes. In the case of many of us ... nationalism is a mere figure of speech, but to Mahatma Gandhi it is his life-breath. I cannot even imagine Mahatma Gandhi in terms of caste Hindus or any other way than in terms of the nation.

Referring to Sir Tej Bahadur Sapru’s earlier observation that whenever any dispute arose in the negotiation they approached Gandhi, Ambedkar says that these disputes were of a very crucial character and thereupon, ‘I was astonished to see that the man who held such divergent views from mine at the RTC came immediately to my rescue and not to the rescue of the other side.’And he expressed his gratitude to Gandhi for thus extricating him from his very difficult dilemma between the need to save the life of the greatest man in India as he referred to Gandhi and at the same time safeguard the interests of the ‘untouchable’ community as he was trying to do at the RTC. Allaying apprehensions expressed in earlier speeches whether the agreement

80 Swaraj and the Reluctant State would have the support of the whole depressed class community, while assuring that there need be no doubt about this, he expressed the counter concern in the following words: ‘Our only concern is this, whether Hindu community will abide by it (voices: Oh, Yes, We Will). We feel that the Hindu community unfortunately is not an integral whole’, but, ‘A Federation of small communities. I hope and trust that the Hindus on their side would look upon this document as sacrosanct and work in an honourable spirit’ (Pyarelal, 1932: 181–91). It is a matter for agonising appraisal and introspection now for the present non-Dalit civil society whether this legitimate expectation of Ambedkar and the assurances of the speakers and wide audience of the non-Dalit Hindu community present have been and are being fulfilled and followed now. The painful answer is in the negative. The warm tributes paid by Ambedkar to Gandhi on that day seventy-seven years back stand in contrast to the bitterness of his references to Gandhi in his book What Congress and Gandhi Have Done to the Untouchables.23 What events and circumstances led to this? What lessons do they provide for the Indian leadership for the future? These are matters I shall discuss in the following paragraphs while dealing with the re-emergence of the pre-Yeravda Constitutional divergence between Gandhi and Ambedkar and other divergences that existed in the Gandhian and Ambedkarite view points. Meanwhile, returning to Ambedkar’s speech at the meeting of the Hindus’ Conference on the September 25, Ambedkar, with remarkable foresight, also cautioned that any electoral arrangement could not be a solution for the larger social problem. It should be necessary to go beyond the political arrangement in the Yeravda Pact and make it ‘possible for the Depressed Classes not only to be part and parcel of the Hindu community, but also to occupy an honourable position, a position of equality of status in the community’ (Pyarelal, 1932: 181–91). He foretold, again with great foresight, that as the depressed classes got education they would begin to smart under the Hindu social laws and, ‘There is a great danger of their seceding from Hindu society’. He earnestly requested the Hindu representatives present to bear this in mind and hoped that they would do the needful in the matter. Earlier, Pandit Madan Mohan Malaviya, who was considered to be the authentic representative of the ‘orthodox sentiment of the Hindu community’, as Tej Bahadur Sapru described him, pointed out that the heart’s desire of Gandhi was not merely to remove existing social disabilities ‘but to make the very idea that there are “untouchables” disappear from the Indian society’. This observation elicited wholehearted support from Ambedkar who shouted ‘Hear’, ‘Hear’. Pandit Madan Mohan Malaviya wanted a committee to be set up to bring the meaning of the day’s

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 81 resolution home to every man in the country and take practical steps to bring about the unity that was needed. Apart from ratification of the pact, the most important resolution of the Conference of Hindus on September 25, 1932 was that: Henceforth no one shall be regarded as untouchable by reason of his birth and those who have been so regarded hitherto will have the same rights as other Hindus in regard to the use of public-wells, public roads and public institutions. These rights shall have statutory recognition at the first opportunity and shall be one of the earliest acts of the Swaraj Parliament if it shall not have received such recognition before that time.

It was further resolved that, ‘It shall be the duty of Hindu leaders to secure, by every legitimate and peaceful means, an early removal of all social disabilities now imposed by custom upon the so-called untouchable classes, including the bar in respect of admission to temples.’ The promise of statutory recognition of the civil rights of the ‘untouchables’ was fulfilled by Article 17 of the Constitution of India, 1950 followed five years later by the enactment of the Untouchability Offences Act, 1955, renamed in 1976 as the Protection of Civil Rights Act, 1955, but it is a sobering and agonising thought that this statutory recognition on paper has not yet been followed in practice in most of India even today. Here, it is necessary to remark that Ambedkar’s farsighted prophesy that as the depressed classes got education they would become more and more resentful against Hindu social laws and there was a great danger of their secession from Hindu society was a point of convergence between him, Gandhi and Swami Vivekananda. In a speech in 1917, Gandhi, referring to ‘untouchability’ as a serpent, warned that, ‘If Hinduism does not destroy this serpent while there is yet time, it will be devoured by it’.24 In his article in Young India of November 17, 1920 replying to S.M. Michael’s letter of November 4, 1920, Gandhi says that Hinduism will certainly perish, ‘If it does not purge itself of the blot on itself in the shape of untouchability’.25 Again, Gandhi in his speech in Bettiah on January 23, 1927, reported in Search Light dated January 30, 1927, warned that, ‘...If the pernicious custom of untouchability remained in force, the Hindus would be wiped out of India in the near future’.26 Even earlier, as long back as in 1897, in a lecture at Madras, Swami Vivekananda, warned as follows: The Mohammedan conquest of India came as a salvation to the downtrodden, to the poor. That is why one-fifth of our people have become Mohammedans. It was not the sword that did it all. It would be the height of madness to think it was all the work of sword and fire. And one fifth ... one-half ... of your Madras people will become Christians if you do not

82 Swaraj and the Reluctant State take care. Was there ever a sillier thing before in the world than what I saw in Malabar country? The poor pariah is not allowed to pass through the same street as the high-caste man, but if he changes his name to a hodge-podge English name, it is all right; or to a Mohammedan name, it is all right.... Shame upon them that such wicked and diabolical customs are allowed. (Vivekananda, 1897)

The warnings of all these three great men of modern India have fallen on deaf years in the subsequent decades and generations to this day. Consequently, Ambedkar and many of his followers left the Hindu fold and adopted Buddhism on the October 14, 1956 after giving ample opportunity for the dominant Hindus and their leadership to correct themselves. Conversion to Christianity has also proceeded and is proceeding apace as specifically warned by Swami Vivekananda. Even now instead of heeding the grave warnings of Swami Vivekananda, Gandhi and Ambedkar and correcting themselves, the upper caste Hindu leadership harps on making anti-conversion laws more stringent which will not succeed in stemming conversion, forgetting that the simple remedy against Dalit conversions to Christianity and sometimes to Islam as in Meenakshipuram in 1981 is in their own hands, namely, firmly putting an end to all discrimination— social, economic, educational, political, cultural, socio-linguistic and socio-psychological—that come under the rubric of ‘untouchability’. Gandhi again and again strenuously pointed out that untouchability is not part of Hinduism and is not sanctioned by any scripture. Prof Nadkarni has recently written a book to establish the same point (Nadkarni, 2006/2008). What is required is not arguments and intellectual disquisitions. It is for the caste Hindu leaders of society, polity, economy, academia and media to show by their personal behaviour and active social action and performance that there is no link between the Hindu religion and untouchability—unfortunately they are yet to seriously undertake this responsibility they owe not only to the SCs, but also to the memory of Gandhi, Ambedkar and other great nationalists of Yeravda and to the cause of the Indian nation. If they are not prepared to perform this type of social amputation, no amount of arguments will convince the victims of untouchability that it is not part of Hinduism and it is not sanctioned by Hindu scriptures. The ball is in the court of the caste Hindu leaders of society, polity, economy, academia and media. Post-Yeravda Divergence In true Yeravda spirit, within a week after the pact, at a large public meeting on September 30, 1932 under Pandit Madan Mohan Malaviya’s presidentship, resolutions were passed assuring Gandhi that, ‘A

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 83 quickening of conscience has been seen in the Hindu community in the last few days on the question of Untouchability and that all possible steps will be taken to translate this enthusiasm into action with a view to remove the virus of Untouchability from the Hindu community’ and deciding to establish an All-India Anti-Untouchability League (AIAUL) (Pyarelal, 1932: 181–93). I must observe here that if there was quickening of conscience, it did not last long and Dalits and their friends feel that now that conscience is virtually dead. Certain actions of the Congress leaders of AIAUL, differences in approach leading to the resignation of Ambedkar from the Central Board of the AIAUL, its renaming as Harijan Sevak Sangh, brought about a fissure, which could have been avoided by Gandhians if they had strictly adhered to the Yeravda spirit. The post-Yeravda divergence was widened by differences in approach between Gandhians and Ambedkar on the Temple Entry Bill, introduced in 1933 in the Central Legislature, which was too weak in Ambedkar’s view as it did not condemn ‘untouchability’ as a sin and as immoral, but only as a social evil, and the unceremonious abandonment of even this weak Bill by Congress leaders in 1934 when the Viceroy announced new elections. This was on account of the Congress leaders’ fear of adverse upper caste reaction in the elections, a forerunner of the fear on account of which political parties even today are too timid to take up essential radical measures for root and branch change in the social and economic structure of the country. In the chase for electoral advantage, basic principles of importance to the society and the nation become casualties. This happens now and this seems to have happened then. The hair-splitting interpretations of certain clauses of the Yeravda Pact, to the disadvantage of the depressed classes, made by Congress representatives before the Hammond Committee, and the practice of Congress electoral managers of putting up ‘convenient’ SC candidates to defeat independent or independent-minded SC candidates who took a firm, independent and principled stand on SC rights, embittered Ambedkar. Learning a lesson from this, the Congress as well as other political parties must desist from their continuing practice of using the electoral process to defeat those SC candidates who would take a firm and independent stand in matters affecting SC rights, whereby they may win certain seats but at the very heavy cost of loss of trust of the SCs which in turn is harmful to the cause of integrating society and strengthening the nation. Divergent Gandhi–Ambedkar Perceptions of Untouchability The divergence of Gandhi and Ambedkar in their understanding and perception of the phenomenon of untouchability, a difference that

84 Swaraj and the Reluctant State existed before the Yeravda Pact and resurfaced soon after that pact, was basic. Many of Gandhi’s speeches and letters give the impression that he took untouchability almost in its literal sense of ‘touch-me-notism’.27 But it is also true that he noticed untouchability as a practice of denying to the ‘untouchables’ admission to schools and use of public facilities like the road, the drinking water, well, etc., denial of freedom to buy or hold land and access to courts.28 Ambedkar had a wider understanding and perception of untouchability. He perceived untouchability as ‘a mental attitude manifesting itself in social discrimination’ which might also include touch-me-not-ism but went much beyond it. Ambedkar saw untouchability also as a means of ensuring a large retinue to serve, to be used as forced labour on a mere pittance, to do the dirty work of scavengers and sweepers, who can be kept to lower jobs and prevented from entering into competition for higher jobs. He saw untouchability as more than a religious system. ‘It is also an economic system which is worse than slavery (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 196–97). While he accepted that untouchability, as most people believe, is a religious system, he pointed out that it would be a mistake to suppose that it is only a religious system. He explains why it is more exploitative than slavery. ‘As an economic system it permits exploitation without obligation.’ It is ‘not only a system of unmitigated economic exploitation, but it is also a system of uncontrolled economic exploitation’, because there is no public opinion to condemn it, no impartial machinery of administration to restrain it, and whatever public opinion there is, is the opinion of Hindus belonging to the exploiting class and as such favour exploitation. And, there is no check from the police or the judiciary, ‘for the simple reason that they are all drawn from the Hindus, and take the side of the Exploiters’. Untouchability ‘does not arise out of any personal fault’ on the part of the ‘untouchable’. ‘Untouchability is an attitude of the Hindu.’ Hindus will not easily give up untouchability in view of its economic advantages to them—they have nothing to fear from the failure to abolish untouchability and they have nothing to gain by abolition of untouchability, ‘They have in fact much to lose by the abolition of untouchability’. ‘The system of untouchability is a goldmine to the Hindus.’ ‘Vested interests have never been known to have willingly divested themselves unless there was sufficient force to compel them.’ The untouchables have no capacity to generate such compelling force, they are poor and scattered. ‘They can be easily suppressed should they raise their head.’

Ambedkar gives a very graphic and moving account of the life and

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 85 place of untouchables or SCs in the village society: In an agricultural country, agriculture can be the main source of living. But this source of earning a living is generally not open to the Untouchables.... . In most parts the Hindus would resent an Untouchable coming forward to purchase land and thereby trying to become the equal of the Touchable class of Hindus. Such an act of daring on the part of an Untouchable would not only be frowned upon but might easily invite punishment. In some parts they are disabled by law from purchasing land. For instance in the Province of Punjab there is a law called the Land Alienation Act. This law specifies the communities which can purchase land and the Untouchables are excluded from the list. The result is that in most part the Untouchables are forced to be landless labourers. As labourers they cannot demand reasonable wages. ... the Untouchables have no holding power. ... Nor have they any bargaining power. They must submit to the rate fixed or suffer violence. ...

When the agricultural season is over the ‘Untouchables’ have no employment and no means of earning a living. .... There is no trade in which they are engaged themselves as a means of earning a livelihood. They have not the capital for it and even if they had, no one would buy from them.

... There is no security. There is only one secure source of livelihood open to the ‘Untouchables’ in some parts of the country known to me. It is the right to beg food from the Hindu farmers of the village. .... The Untouchables of the village are hereditary menials employed in the village administration. As part of their remuneration the whole body of Untouchables get a small parcel of land assigned in the ancient past which is fixed .... Coupled with this is given to them the right to beg for food.... This statutory beggary as a means of livelihood for the Untouchables has been reduced to a system. The ‘Untouchable’ families are attached to different ‘Touchable’ families in the village as did the serfs and villeins to the Lords of the Manors in Medieval Europe. The Untouchable families attached to the ‘Touchable’ families are at the command of the latter..29 Even today, long after Ambedkar made the foregoing in-depth and incisive economic analysis of the position of SCs in the Indian economy, especially its rural economy, villages and agriculture remain the predominant socio-geographical fact of India. Of the SC population, the proportion in rural India is much larger than the proportion of nonSC, non-ST in the rural area out of the total non-SC, non-ST population. It is this economic dimension of ‘untouchability’ that completely bypassed Gandhi or he totally missed it. The issue of landlessness of and denial of landownership to SCs does not figure in his speeches,

86 Swaraj and the Reluctant State letters and writings, except for a passing notice of the land-related grievance of ‘Panchamas’ of Mayavaram in his speech on May 1, 1915.30 Many people consider the issue of untouchability to be a mere social problem. Ambedkar points out that the problem of the untouchables is ‘quite unlike the problems of dowry, widow remarriage, age of consent, etc. which are illustrations of what are properly called social problems’. The problem is essentially one of ‘...Securing to a minority liberty and equality of opportunity at the hands of a hostile majority which believes in the denial of liberty and equal opportunity to the minority and conspires to enforce its policy on the minority. Viewed in this light, the problem of the Untouchables is fundamentally a political problem’ (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 190). This political aspect was also overlooked by Gandhi till the Yeravda Pact. Connected with the divergence of Gandhi and Ambedkar in their perception and understanding of ‘untouchability’ was the divergence in their views on the caste system. Gandhi believed that caste system minus ‘untouchability’ was a useful social arrangement worth preserving.31 Gandhi repeatedly referred to ‘untouchability’, but not the caste system, as an excrescence of Hinduism. On the contrary, according to Ambedkar, the ultimate goal for the untouchables was a religion which would give them equality of social status and for this the Hindu religion had to purge itself of the doctrine of Chaturvarna as the root cause of all inequality and also the parent of the caste system and ‘untouchability’. So long as Chaturvarna and the caste system stand to be the cardinal doctrine of the Hindu faith, the depressed classes are bound to continue to be looked upon as low. Indicating that depressed classes were not averse per se to remain Hindus, but spelling out the condition on which they was remain Hindus and also warning that they could not remain Hindus if this condition is not fulfilled, he declared that, ‘The Depressed Classes can say that they are Hindus only when the theory of Chaturvarna and caste system is abandoned and expunged from the Hindu Shastras.’32 Measures for Elimination of Untouchability—Gandhi–Ambedkar and Gandhi–Narayanaguru Divergence Based on their basic differences of perception of ‘untouchability’, its meaning, its ramifications, its socio-economic functions and its political implications in the context of Constitution-making, the approach of Gandhi and Ambedkar to the solution of the problem of untouchability also had certain fundamental differences. Gandhi carried out a consistent campaign, before the Yeravda Pact

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 87 and more intensely after that pact, and the resolution of September 25, 1932 against ‘untouchability’. But this campaign was directed against ‘touch-me-not-ism’ and centrally against denial of entry of untouchables into temples. He believed that if temple entry was achieved, at one stroke it would open the door to the achievement of freedom of education and economic advancement to the untouchables.33 Gandhi believed that achievement of temple entry was an imminent possibility and that caste Hindus were coming round and being influenced by his campaign through his articles, letters, speeches and pronouncements. On all these assumptions, Gandhi was unrealistic and over-optimistic though it is clear that the sincerity and depth of his feelings against ‘untouchability’ were unquestionable. Within the limits of his perception of ‘untouchability’, and subject to his emphasis, priorities and sequencing, his campaign against ‘untouchability’ was relentless. He linked it with his idea of Swaraj. For him, removal of ‘untouchability’ was a necessary pillar of Swaraj. Swaraj, if and when attained, would be hollow and meaningless if untouchability was not removed. In fact, it would not be Swaraj at all. Thus though in Hind Swaraj itself there is no reference to the ‘untouchables’ and ‘untouchability’, in his subsequent articles, speeches, lectures and letters, he fills his concept of Swaraj and underpins his concept of Swaraj with the removal of ‘untouchability’. Ambedkar criticised Ranga Iyer’s Temple-Entry Bill because it did not refer to ‘untouchability’ as a sin. Gandhi, day in and day out, referred to ‘untouchability’ as a sin and as a crime34—a significant convergence in the midst of their divergence on ‘untouchability’. It is interesting and significant that in his speech on June 5, reported in Gujarati on June 11, 1916,35 Gandhi observes that, ‘Even the slavery of the Negroes is better than this’, a point on which he and Ambedkar fully agree. This reference to slavery in the context of SCs is not an isolated instance and recurs elsewhere.36 In one instance, he refers to those who practice ‘untouchability’ as ‘slave-owners’. His uncompromising opposition to ‘untouchability’ and characterisation of it as a sin and as a crime is a recurrent theme in his various articles, speeches, notes and statements all the way from 1916, and the early 1920s, till the 1940s,37 all of which indicate the significance attached to removal of ‘untouchabilty’ in Gandhi’s scheme of things, both in the context of civil disobedience and in the context of Swaraj. After the Yeravda Pact, there was a spate of temple-entry activity. Issues of Harijan every week published lists of temples, wells and schools thrown open to the ‘untouchables’. It would appear that reports that came to Gandhi from his sources, that is, Congress workers in the field, were exaggerated apparently with the intention of pleasing him. The

88 Swaraj and the Reluctant State reality check on these exaggerated reports comes from the reply of a minister, who was a Congressman to a question asked by B.K. Gaikwad, a SC member of the Bombay Legislative Assembly, on August 17, 1939, and Bombay Chronicle’s comments dated August 28, 1943, and January 4, 1944 (Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done cited in Moon, 1990: 262). Gandhi apparently overestimated the influence of his words and underestimated the strength of resistance against removal of ‘untouchability’ whether in the admission to temples which was paramount to him or in the admission to schools, public wells and other public facilities like restaurants which also fell within the ken of his campaign. This over-optimism and underestimation comes through in a number of his speeches and letters,38 like a speech at a meeting of Antyajas at Dohad, reported in Young India of September 10, 1919, his ‘Notes’ in Young India dated March 9, 1922.39 In his article in Young India of November 17, 1920, Gandhi says that, ‘There will be no Pariah or non-Brahmin problem left to be solved’ and asserted that, ‘Amelioration of radical social evils means an attainment of Swaraj’.40 It is sobering for us now to note that though Swaraj in the sense of political freedom from British rule was achieved more than six decades back, yet contrary to Gandhi’s assessment, the problem of ‘untouchability’ and the problem of caste still remain. One can of course draw the conclusion that the Swaraj Gandhiji was speaking of was not merely freedom from foreign rule but Swaraj for all people and sections of India which has not yet been achieved. In that sense, the Swaraj of Gandhi’s vision is yet to come. Even while supporting the education of SCs and admission of ‘Panchama’ or ‘Antyaja’ (that is, SC) children into the same schools as others, he envisaged, in keeping with his adherence to the Varna Vyavastha or caste system, that educated untouchables should not give up their traditional occupation, as for example, in his article in Navajivan dated June 27, 1920.41 These ideas of Gandhi regarding traditional occupations are at variance with the feelings and aspirations of the SCs as well as BCs. Contradistinct from Gandhi’s ideas on traditional occupations, Ambedkar referred to the existence of the hierarchy of occupations, corresponding to the hierarchy of castes, as a feature of the caste system—an analysis which is in keeping with sociological reality in the context of India. Thus, with regard to the caste system, where Gandhi felt that a surgery would do to achieve the removal of ‘untouchability’, Ambedkar found that the rot was so deep that an amputation was necessary to save the body. The decades after the Gandhi–Ambedkar controversy on this point, including the decades after independence have brought home how

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 89 pernicious and persistent the caste system is. Though the Constitution does not specifically outlaw the caste system as it has outlawed ‘untouchability’, the Supreme Court has interpreted the Constitution to mean that its goal is a casteless society in its judgment on April 10, 2008 in Central Educational Institutions (Reservation in Admission) Act, 2006 case (Ashoka Kumar Thakur vs. Government of India; (2008) 6 SCC 1). Thus, even though Gandhi recognised the need for economic and educational instruments of Dalit advancement there was a clear difference in emphasis, priorities and sequencing between him, on the one hand, and Ambedkar, Narayanaguru and Periyar E.V. Ramaswamy, on the other. Narayanaguru’s vision is expressed in his actions as well as in his teachings and preachings. His first epochal public act was that of installation of an idol of Siva at Aruvipuram near Thiruvananthapuram in 1888. This was an act of rebellion against the caste system because installation of idols and consecration of temples were customarily performed only by Brahmins and not by a person born in the then ‘untouchable’ caste of Ezhava as Narayanaguru was. He deflected the critical voices of objection against this act with gentle irony by telling the critics that he had installed not their Siva but only the ‘Ezhava Siva’ or the ‘Untouchable Siva’. His simple and profound teachings were part of the air breathed by the generation in Kerala now in their seventies and eighties in age including myself, such as the following: • • • •

One caste, one religion, one God for man. Ask not of caste, speak not of caste, think not of caste. Whatever be the religion, it is enough if man progresses. Whatever be the religion, dress, language etc. of human beings, since their Jati is one, there is nothing wrong in marrying and eating together without any restrictions. (Here he plays upon the meaning of the word Jati and uses it in the sense of ‘Species’.) • The substance of all religions is the same. Most revolutionary of all, for a man of religion, was his statement bringing together the Vedantic doctrine of illusion or Maaya and the scientific materialism of Marx (before Marxism came into vogue): ‘The World is an Illusion, Food is reality.’ [Lokam Mithya, Annam Sathyam] Like Gandhi, Narayanaguru gave importance to temple entry; but as Ambedkar later envisioned he proceeded from there to education and economic improvement. He bypassed the opposition to entry of untouchables into temples by launching a programme of establishing new temples as free temples open to all people as model institutions where all live with fraternity, free from caste differences and religious hatred, a concept inscribed as a motto in a shloka in Aruvipuram itself.

90 Swaraj and the Reluctant State But in 1917, he issued a clarion call that the stage of building temples was over and the time had come to build schools and libraries as the main temples. In recognition of peoples’ attitude to religion, he told them that if they were very particular they could have temples as adjuncts of schools and libraries. Another significant expression of Narayanaguru’s socio-spiritual realism is revealed in his observation, in reply to Gandhi’s query about what in the Guru’s opinion was required for the removal of the disadvantages of the depressed classes, in addition to the removal of ‘untouchability’. Guru felt that the depressed classes must have education and financial competence and they should have facilities for advancement as others had. This was also the pointed advice he directly gave to the Pulayas (the numerically largest SC of Kerala who were earlier subjected to agrestic slavery) at a large meeting at Muttathara near Thiruvananthapuram. He told them: All human beings belong to one Caste. The only difference among them is that of circumstances, .... Pulayas actually suffer today from absence of money and education. You should acquire both these. But most important is education. If one has education, wealth and cleanliness will follow. ... (Balakrishnan, 1969: 152)

Narayanaguru also gave importance to access to temples for the ‘untouchables’ but like Ambedkar he did not want to beg for entry into the existing temples and like Gandhi he also did not want forcible entry. He found a third way, namely, construction of new temples by untouchables for themselves. No doubt this was possible because of certain specificities pertaining to the then largest ‘untouchable’ community of Kerala, namely, the Ezhavas/Thiyyas. The strengthening of this community through these specificities was also noticed by Ambedkar in his statement on the Temple-Entry proclamation of November 12, 1936, opening the temples of Travancore to the ‘untouchables’.42 Ambedkar’s efforts from the time of the Simon Commission onwards were in the context of the imminent constitutional reforms and focused on ensuring that the Constitution which came in the shape of Government of India Act, 1935 had inbuilt safeguards for the SCs, but his movement was much larger and covered a broad spectrum including education, and economic measures apart from a frontal attack on caste system and ‘untouchability’. Constitution of India, 1950 and Renewed National Convergence The Constitution-making process for independent India was the momentous occasion of a renewed national convergence, the convergence which earlier briefly occurred in the Yeravda Pact and

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 91 was unfortunately soon dissipated. Ambedkar’s joining the Cabinet of Independent India as Minister of Law, on the invitation of Prime Minister Pandit Nehru in 1947, was the first step in this renewed national convergence. In this appointment of Ambedkar, Gandhi’s counsel had its influence. Thereafter, the appointment of Ambedkar as the Chairman of the Drafting Committee of the Constituent Assembly was a decisive step. That this happened in a Constituent Assembly that had very little presence of SCs and in which ‘upper castes’ were predominant is an indication that Gandhi’s influence had rubbed off on that entire generation of national leaders and representatives. The Constitution of India, 1950 framed under the stewardship of Ambedkar and adopted on November 26, 1949 which came into force on January 26, 1950 enshrines the very principles that Ambedkar espoused throughout his life. Ambedkar’s prescription for the disadvantages and deprivations of the SCs emphasised adequate space for them in the political set-up, comprehensive measures for their educational and economic advancement and extermination of ‘untouchability’ by law. Political space for the SCs as well as the STs was ensured by Part XVI of the Constitution, especially Articles 330 and 332 which provide for reservation of seats in the House of the People or the Lok Sabha and in the Legislative Assemblies of every state for the SCs and STs in proportion to their population. This principle of proportional political space by reservation was later carried to the lower levels of governance, namely, in the Panchayats at the village level, intermediate level and district level in rural India and in the municipalities in urban India by Article 243 D and 243 T in Part IX and Part IXA inserted by constitutional amendment in 1992, belatedly fulfilling Clause (8) of the Yeravda Pact. Here, a caveat is necessary. What is incorporated in this part of the Constitution is the principle of political reservation for SCs and STs as agreed in the Yeravda Pact and not separate electorate advocated by Ambedkar before Yeravda. There is even now a sense of loss and disappointment among educated sections of SCs that if the principle of separate electorate had been accepted, they would have had better representatives in the central and state legislatures who would be sensitive and loyal to the needs and aspirations of SCs. They hold Gandhi to blame for the rejection of the separate electorate principle. The practical way in which all political parties can mitigate these feelings of disappointment and resentment is to stop the practice of putting up ‘convenient’ candidates from SCs for elections who would be acceptable to the caste Hindu majority by watering down their assertiveness on behalf of the genuine rights and aspirations of SCs. Instead, they should put up SC candidates of integrity who have won the trust of SCs by

92 Swaraj and the Reluctant State firmly and consistently standing for their rights and aspirations. Ambedkar ensured that a noble edifice of social justice and equality was erected within the magnificent mansion of the Constitution. The Articles in the Indian Constitution which have direct bearing on the SCs along with the Articles which have direct bearing on STs and the Socially and Educationally Backward Classes (SEdBCs), the social categories identified by the Constitution—SCs by Article 341, STs by Article 342 and BCs by Article 340 (1)—as the prime subjects of social justice and equality constitute an integrated structure. These three social categories were identified because Ambedkar and other members of the Constituent Assembly were aware that these were the three categories of India’s people who, by the operation over the centuries of the traditional social system of India, namely, the caste system, which prevailed not only among Hindus but also infected non-Hindu societies. These people had been deprived of their rightful share in the economy, polity and society of India and deprived of educational opportunities to secure upward mobility and of their share in unfolding economic opportunities submerging them in ‘untouchability’ in the case of SCs and other forms of social humiliation in the case of non-SCs. At the foundation of this structure is Article 46, which is both a political command as well as a moral commandment to the state. It runs as follows: 46. Promotion of educational and economic interests of Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes and other weaker sections. — The state shall promote with special care the educational and economic interests of the weaker sections of the people, and, in particular, of the Scheduled Castes and the Scheduled Tribes, and shall protect them from social injustice and all forms of exploitation.

The term ‘weaker sections’ includes the BCs. The Constitution mandated the state to create a society permeated by equality and justice, ensuring that the three deprived social categories were able to get the economic and educational and all other inputs which would enable them to come up to the level of the advanced classes. Articles 38, 39 and 39A are significant in this regard. Clause (4) of Article 15 empowers the state to make any special provision for the advancement of the BCs and for the SCs and STs. Clause (5) of Article 15 inserted in 2005 empowers the state to provide reservation for SC, ST and BC in admission to educational institutions, both state-run and private. A separate Article 16 has been devoted to equality of opportunity in matters of public employment in view of its importance. Clause (4) of Article 16 provides for reservation of appointments or posts under the state for any BC citizens not adequately represented in services.

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 93 The term ‘backward class of citizens’ has been understood and judicially interpreted to include the SCs and STs and socially and educationally BCs. In addition, Article 335 lays down that the claims of members of SCs and STs shall be taken into consideration in the making of appointments to services and posts under the Union or a state. Article 335 is worded mandatorily. That Articles 15, 16 and 16 (4) and also 16 (4A) and (4B) including the provision of reservation are also mandatory and are not merely enabling will be clear from their reading along with Article 46 and the Preamble of the Constitution in an integrated manner, as it should be read. Thus, the people of India through the Constitution adopted the Ambedkarite path not only in respect of SCs, but also in respect of STs and BCs towards the goal of the establishment of an egalitarian society permeated by the principles of equality and social justice which figure prominently in the Preamble to the Constitution—the Preamble is considered to be the key to the Constitution. This Ambedkarite path is also the path of Narayanaguru and Mahatma Phule. With this, the conflict in this area between Gandhi’s views and Ambedkar’s views has been finally laid at rest. Article 17 represents the convergence of Gandhi and Ambedkar in the matter of ‘untouchability’. This Article abolishes ‘untouchability’ and forbids its practice in any form, but the instrumentality of effectuating this ‘abolition’ is in keeping with Ambedkar’s prescription. The Article makes the enforcement of any disability arising out of ‘untouchability’ an offence punishable in accordance with the law. In terms of this Article, the Untouchability (Offences) Act, 1955 was enacted. Subsequently, it was replaced in 1976 by the Protection of Civil Rights Act, 1955 with somewhat stronger provisions. Though the Constitution does not say in so many words that it abolishes caste or lays down the goal of a casteless society, the Supreme Court in its judgment in the Central Educational Institutions (Reservation in Education) Act case (Ashoka Kumar Thakur case) has pronounced that a casteless society is the goal of the Indian Constitution. This is also in keeping with Ambekdar’s vision which is also the vision of Narayanaguru and Basaveswara, the radical socio-religious revolutionary of the twelfth century in Karnataka. Tasks for the Future—The Context for Synthesis of Gandhi– Ambedkar–Narayanaguru–Marx Visions The significance of the edifice of social justice erected within the Constitution by Ambedkar with the cooperation of the national leadership of that period will be evident on its perusal in comparison with the Constitution of the US which is sterile with regard to social

94 Swaraj and the Reluctant State justice and equality. Unlike the US Constitution, the clear-cut foundational mandate of the Indian Constitution and the various specific Articles in it based on the foundational political command and moral commandment has enabled the Indian judiciary to protect the executive and legislative initiatives of the state in compliance with the Constitutional mandate and provisions in favour of the SCs, STs and BCs, unlike the negative American judicial experience with regard to the American blacks, the American Indians and Eskimos and Hispanic Americans who are the deprived/disadvantaged races of the US. This is the long-lasting effect of Ambedkar’s endeavours of a lifetime and the renewed national convergence that was brought about by the patriotic Gandhi-inspired national leadership of that time in the exercise of Constitution-making under the guiding hand of Ambedkar. Since the Gandhi–Ambedkar differences have thus been finally settled (subject to the caveat mentioned earlier of the duty of the political parties in the choice of their SC candidates for elections), the question is how do we go from here in order to fulfil the Constitutional goals of social justice and equality and establishment of an egalitarian society? This will be clear when we examine how and to what extent the Constitutional provisions have been implemented through specific and effective laws, adequate and meaningful plans and budgetary outlays and appropriate institutional structures and placing their implementation in each relevant institution in the charge of carefully and purposefully selected individuals attuned to the Constitutional mandate of social justice and equality. This picture is not only disappointing but also alarming and is in a way a repetition of the postYeravda disillusionment to which Ambedkar gave bitter expression. Sixty years after the Constitution, though some ameliorations have occurred, the bulk of the SC families remain agricultural wage-labourers, as in the past many centuries, depending on their very oppressors and exploiters for their daily bread. This is because the land-reform legislations passed in India have not been in keeping with the principle of ‘land to the tiller’, which was adopted by the national movement for independence led by the Indian National Congress. This principle necessarily means land to every tiller and no land to any non-tiller. This is very important for the SCs because they are mainly landless and are forced to remain agricultural wage-labourers, by the ruthless operation of customs based on the caste system and in some areas by formal law. Land-reform legislations and other land distribution measures have brought about some improvement in this matter but have not been designed with the goal of ensuring that no rural SC family is left out to remain landless. A large part of the country’s agricultural land has been brought under irrigation but the limited extent of lands

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 95 owned by the SCs remain almost wholly unirrigated, forcing even small farmers among the SCs to depend on agricultural wage-labour. Whatever land ceiling and re-distribution Acts have been enacted, with all the limitations, have been honoured more in the breach than in the observance. The Special Component Plan (SCP) for SCs, which I conceived and was introduced in 1978 as part of the planning system of India as a means of channelising adequate plan outlays for their allround development and progress, has been routinised and trivialised, losing sight of its liberational, equalisational and transformational purpose. The SCs continue to be forced to live in the most miserable rural bastis and urban slums. A large section of them continue to be forced to render ‘safai’ (scavenging) service. The bonded labour system remains in all its vicious vigour and about two-thirds of bonded labourers in the country belong to the SCs, as a modern outcrop of their earlier serfdom and slavery. The chasm between SCs and the advanced classes in education continues to be wide and becomes wider as one goes up the educational ladder. The 93rd amendment to the Constitution passed in 2005 inserting Clause (5) in Article 15 to re-open the door to private educational institutions in which reservation was barred by the Supreme Court’s judgment in the Inamdar case in 2005 is yet to be fully implemented. After the Central Educational Institutions (Reservation in Admission) Act, 2006 which provides for reservation for SCs, STs and BCs in central educational institutions was upheld by the Supreme Court on April 10, 2008, a similar Act in respect of private educational institutions was due, but it is yet to be enacted though that was the prime purpose of the 93rd enactment. This has adversely affected the educational opportunities for not only SCs but also STs and BCs. Untouchability continues to be rampant in many parts of the country. The following are some aspects of ground reality: • ‘Untouchability’ in its classic expressions known all over India, for example, Mahad in 1927, continues to exist in many parts of India. • The Act and its machinery are not able to reach out to most of the victims in the villages or to alter the situation there significantly. • Some of the ‘classic’ expressions of ‘untouchability’ have ceased to be practised in some parts of the country—a silver lining to draw hope from. • Some of the ‘classic’ forms of ‘untouchability’ have been modified in some parts of the country. • Some neo-modern forms of ‘untouchability’ have emerged in rural as well as urban areas in many parts of the country, in

96 Swaraj and the Reluctant State

•

•

•

•

keeping with new developments. For example, village tea shops are a recent phenomenon in many villages. With this has arisen a variety of discriminatory practices against SCs such as not allowing them to be seated, seating them on the floor, separately seating them and requiring them to use separate glasses, usually old, dirty and cracked or chipped, kept for their use. In many metropolitan areas, ‘untouchability’ has seemingly attenuated, but is practised with sophisticated concealment in a variety of ingenious ways, revealing creativity worthy of a better cause. In many modern offices and educational institutions, Dalits have to suffer snide remarks and quiet and neat acts of discrimination. Untouchability is practised even against school-going boys and girls, in many parts of the country, in seating in the class and at the important programme for mid-day meals, vital for children’s nutrition and education and full enrolment and retention without drop-out. Untouchability is practised even against infants in many parts of the country in the operation of the important programme of Anganwadis linked with child nutrition, child health protection and mother’s nutrition and health. More than everything else the mindset behind ‘untouchability’ and the caste system continues almost unabated. The walls in the mind stand intact.

Atrocities continue to be perpetrated against them whenever they seek to secure even a small part of their rights. Legislations to prevent and penalise ‘untouchability’ and atrocities are drafted defectively and implemented half-heartedly. It is only a small proportion of SCs, about 2 per cent of SC families, who have been able to secure employment in government, public sector units (PSUs) and other such public organisations through the mechanism of scholarships, hostels and reservation in posts and appointments. It is only this small proportion who have been able to cross the ‘Line of Economic Freedom’ and the ‘Line of Self-Respect’, demarking lines most relevant to SCs, STs and BCs. Even the benefits of reservation have not reached the SCs in full measure because of poor implementation by the Central as well as state governments. Scheduled Tribes, proud masters of their traditional territory, are being progressively deprived of their lands and have, in many cases, been reduced to minorities in their own home-lands. This is a historical process that has been going on for centuries and has acquired greater momentum in the decades of independence. The lands that still remain with them are poorly developed, are rarely irrigated and are un-

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 97 integrated or poorly integrated with the market, leaving the field open to exploiters and middlemen from outside. Irrigation projects that have been undertaken by governments in the Tribal areas are typically programmes for creating dams in Tribal areas, submerging Tribal lands, scattering their settlements and people to the wind and taking water to non-Tribal lands outside the Tribal areas; the plan expenditures incurred on such projects are gratuitously and unabashedly shown as part of the Tribal sub-Plan, which has also been routinised and trivialised. An aggressive new entrant in the field of land deprivation of STs is the large private mining enterprise by a number of corporates. No wonder an increasing number of STs are forced into agricultural wage-labour and the proportion of STs among agricultural wage-labourers has increased in recent decades. STs have become the largest contributors of bonded labourers next to the SCs, about one-fifth of bonded labourers being members of STs. Traditional Tribal rights in forests, which they have been enjoying through traditional symbiotic relationship between tribes and forests, were unilaterally abrogated and abridged by the colonial government, an abrogation and abridgement continuing even after independence, making the STs dependent on others for their elementary requirements and for their very survival. The Scheduled Tribes and Other Traditional Forest Dwellers (Recognition of Forest Rights) Act passed in December, 2006 to remedy this is yet to be fully or even adequately implemented. In the trading of minor forest produce (MFP), in the collection of which STs are specialised, they are being exploited both by private trade as well as by cooperatives/corporations set up by governments. Availability of MFP, which is the main or a substantial source of livelihood for a large percentage of STs, is fast shrinking. The benefits of reservation have reached STs even to a lesser extent than in the case of SCs. It is only 1 per cent of STs/ST families, who have been able to get into employment in governmental and quasigovernmental establishments and it is only this 1 per cent which can be said to have crossed the relevant lines, namely, ‘the Line of Self-Respect’ and ‘the Line of Economic Freedom’ in the modern sense of the term. The rest are vulnerable or potentially so. They, along with SCs and BCs, are still waiting for reservation in private educational institutions which is yet to be enacted by the state under the new Clause (5) of Article 15. A large proportion of the BCs are dependent on their traditional occupations like fishing, a variety of traditional productive industries and of services and so on. While, on the one hand, the doors of access to other occupations of their individual choice have been barred to them, on the other hand, opportunities and incomes in the traditional occupations, to which they are largely confined, are also being

98 Swaraj and the Reluctant State threatened and truncated by the organised market and through denial of access to relevant technology and to finance and credit. Many of them have consequently been pushed into agricultural wage-labour and even bonded labour. Almost all bonded labourers who are not SCs or STs belong to BCs. The problem faced by BCs engaged in traditional occupations is also the fate of those sections of SCs and STs who are dependent on similar traditional occupations. The presence of BCs in the organised modern establishments of government and quasigovernment bodies is very limited on account of denial of their Constitutional right to be recognised and accorded reservation and other facilities until 1990–93 at the Centre and in a number of states. Even now their other entitlements have not been provided for in the central sector except to a marginal extent. Reservation in central educational institutions was provided for them as late as in 2006 and they, along with SCs and STs, are still waiting for reservation in private educational institutions which is yet to be enacted by the state under the new Clause (5) of Article 15. Thus, as illustrated earlier, in the life of these three categories, who together constitute about two-thirds to three-quarters of India’s population and almost the entirety of India’s agricultural and other labour force, economic freedom is absent. Consequently, almost all of them dwell below the ‘Line of Economic Freedom’ and the ‘Line of Self-Respect’. An important instrument of progress emphasised by Ambedkar, namely, education of equal and high quality, has not been made available to them either in full measure or in quality. There is no educational equality for them with the dominant elite minority. In fact, the qualitative gap between the educational availability to this majority and the dominant elite minority has been alarmingly widening in the last one or two decades. Thus, there is no true equality of opportunity for them. Indian governance at the central as well as state level has not till now addressed itself totally, comprehensively and consistently to measures which would bring economic freedom, educational equality and true equality of opportunities to SCs, STs and BCs in an integrated and comprehensive manner. Developmental assistance has been and is usually sporadic, patchy, truncated and inadequate. Even these are poorly implemented because of the presence of inegalitarians, in large numbers and in crucial positions, both in political as well as administrative governance and the persecution and sidelining, in the decades after independence to this day, of those in the administrative structure of the country, who are egalitarians and who bear faith to the Constitutional principle of socio-economic justice. The hiatus between Constitutional mandates and their implementation has a deleterious effect on the still incomplete project

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 99 of building a unified and strong nation based on an integrated and egalitarian society and an economy friendly to the SCs and other deprived classes and other common people, but the voice of social justice has become weaker than it was at the time when and soon after the Constitution came into existence. Macro-economic and global concerns have put social justice based on the Constitutional mandate on the backburner. It is in the national interest to correct this situation urgently. This requires a two-fold approach. On the one hand, are the measures to economically liberate the SCs and along with them the STs and BCs, to bring about educational parity for them in relation to the advanced classes at all levels of education and, on the other hand, protect the SCs and STs against atrocities and exterminate ‘untouchability’ urgently. These measures should include the following: ●

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Quick distribution of agricultural land to all rural SC families so that not a single rural SC family remains landless and dependent on others for daily livelihood Land distribution to landless ST families in non-Tribal areas and stopping the haemorrhage of Tribal lands in Tribal areas, inter alia rescuing SC children from the compulsion to work to supplement the family’s meagre wage income instead of going to school Development of their lands through community irrigation and other means Setting up a network of high quality residential schools from Class VI to XII for SC children in every district and mandal/tehsil area and similar schools for STs and BCs (in which one-fourth to one-third of the seats could be provided for poor non-SC/nonST/non-BC children respectively) Ensuring full access and reasonable presence of SCs, STs and BCs in educational institutions, both governmental as well as private, at all levels through reservation and other means (Bill for reservation of seats for SC, ST and BC in private educational institutions for which the 93rd Constitutional amendment was passed in 2005 is pending after the Act providing reservation for them in government institutions was upheld by the Supreme Court on April 10, 2008) and Strengthening the SC and ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act 1989 and the Protection of Civil Rights Act 1955 by amendments already formulated and communicated to the Government of India, and strengthening their implementation.

A programmatic consensus in this regard based on the Constitutional

100 Swaraj and the Reluctant State mandate has already been reached and this is reflected in documents like ‘Dalit Manifesto, Incorporating the Rights and Entitlements of Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes & Backward Classes’ (1996), the Himalaya Proclamation (2005), Draft Common Minimum Programme (DCMP), 2009 in respect of Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes and Backward Classes, all of which I had formulated on behalf of Dalit and BC organisations, and in the Common Minimum Programmes (CMPs) of Coalitions from 1996 onwards, including particularly the CMP of the UPA, 2004 —all of which except the DCMP, 2009 have been brought together as appendices in my book Empowering India for Empowering Dalits: A Road-Map. A powerful and peaceful democratic mobilisation is required to ensure that this programmatic consensus based on the Constitutional mandates is fully and scrupulously implemented without any further delay. The other prong of the two-fold approach is to institute welldesigned courses of human rights education with focus on the economic, educational and social rights of the SCs, STs and BCs, from childhood upwards in order to counteract the anti-national culture of casteism, concepts of caste-based superiority and creation of aversion to the caste system itself. In designing this part of the nation-building and nationstrengthening project, it will be useful to draw upon the resources sourced from Ambedkar, Gandhi and Narayanaguru. Along with Ambedkar would be revolutionary reformers like Mahatma Phule, in addition to Narayanaguru. Along with Gandhi would be Swami Vivekananda, Basaveswara and Sankardeb. These are illustrative. There are a number of other egalitarian social reformers and social revolutionaries (in today’s terminology, of SC, BC and ‘Advanced Caste’ origins) in the Indian tradition who can be drawn upon and who would appeal to different sections of the people in different parts of the country. In this design, the dialectical methodology of Marx would be useful in bringing out the nature of exploitation and deprivation in the Indian context of which an important feature is the caste system and the economic burdens imposed through it on the SCs, STs and BCs and the economic advantages and privileges appropriated through its mediacy by a small minority of the population constituting the upper classes drawn from the upper castes and more recently from sections of the land-owning middle castes. The application of the Marxist dialectical method will, on the one hand, be enlightening in unraveling these socioeconomic processes but it will also enrich Marxism itself by its application in the Indian context through the prism represented by Ambedkar, on the other. It is imperative to synthesise all these resources represented by

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 101 Gandhi, Ambedkar, Narayanaguru and Marx in the present critical stage of social justice in India, instead of continuing to harp on the differences of the past which have been finally settled in the Constitution of India. This process will be helped if the political parties adopt the procedure suggested earlier regarding selection of their respective SC and ST candidates in all elections. In the light of Gandhi’s concept, without the liberation and empowerment of SCs, STs and BCs (including the BCs of religious minorities), there cannot be Swaraj—in other words, the Swaraj we achieved on August 15, 1947 is not complete without Dalit liberation and empowerment. NOTES 1. An internet edition by Gandhi Book Centre, Bombay is available at www. mkgandhi-sarvodaya. org. 2. M.K. Gandhi, An Autobiography, Part II, Chapters ‘XXIV Homeward’ and ‘XXV In India’, pp. 152–57. 3. Dr B.R. Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done to the Untouchables, cited in Moon (1990). Also see, M.K. Gandhi (Collected Works, pp. 41–47). 4. M.K. Gandhi speech on ‘untouchability’, Akola on February 6, 1927, reported in the Young India of February 17, 1927, reprinted in M.K. Gandhi (Collected Works, Volume XXXIII, p. 49). 5. M.K. Gandhi, An Autobiography, Part IV, ‘XIV Coolie Locations or Ghettoes?’ pp. 264–65. 6. Ibid. 7. Ibid. 8. Ibid. 9. M.K. Gandhi, An Autobiography, Part II, Chapter XV, pp. 125–28. 10. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XIII, ‘233. Speech on Caste System, Ahmedabad’, pp. 277–78. 11. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XIII, ‘170. Speech on Ashram Vows’ at YMCA, Madras’, p. 225. 12. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XVII, ‘213. ‘Depressed Classes’, pp. 375–77. 13. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XIII, ‘189. Speech at Conference for Elevation of Untouchables, Gurukul’, p. 259. 14. M.K. Gandhi, An Autobiography, Part V, Chapter IX, p. 363. 15. M.K. Gandhi, An Autobiography, Part V, Chapter X, p. 364. 16. M.K. Gandhi, An Autobiography, Part V, Chapter XVIII, pp. 387–88. 17. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XVIII, ‘213. ‘Depressed Classes’, pp. 375–77. 18. These public documents have been included in my book Empowering Dalits for Empowering India: A Road Map. 19. M.K. Gandhi’s speech on ‘untouchability’ at Akola on February 6, 1927,

102 Swaraj and the Reluctant State

20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27.

28.

29. 30.

31.

reported in Young India dated February 17, 1927, reprinted in M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XXXIII, p. 49; his speech at Jamui, on January 27, 1927, reported in the Search Light dated February 4, 1927, reprinted in Collected Works, pp. 23–24; his convocation address at Gurukul, Kangri on May 19, 1927, reported in Young India dated March 31, 1927, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXXIII, pp. 168–69. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XXIII, ‘297. Untouchability and Unapproachability’, pp. 386–87. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XXIII, ‘Vaikkom Satyagraha’, pp. 515–19. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XXXIII, pp. 267–68. Reproduced in Moon (1990, Volume 9, Part I, pp. 1–383). M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XIV, ‘20. A Stain on India’s Forehead’, p. 73. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XXI, ‘284. Satyagraha and the Suppressed Classes’, pp. 501–03. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XXXIII, pp. 3–4. M.K. Gandhi’s notes in Navajivan dated May 30, 1920 under the head ‘Miscellaneous Issues’, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XVII (February–June, 1920), pp. 470–72; his article in Navajivan dated April 20, 1924, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIII, ‘My Notes’, pp. 462–66, under the heading ‘Meaning of Eradicating Untouchability’, pp. 465–66; his letter to C.F. Andrews dated May 25, 1920, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XVII, pp. 534–35; his speech at a weavers’ meeting on August 31, 1919 published in Young India of September 10, 1919, reprinted Collected Works, Volume XVI, ‘53. Speech at Weavers’ Meeting, Dohad’, p. 81. M.K. Gandhi’s article in Navajivan dated April 20, 1924, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIII, ‘My Notes’, pp. 462–66, under the heading ‘Meaning of Eradicating Untouchability’, pp. 465–66; his speech at Mayavaram in Tamil Nadu on May 1, 1915, reported in the Hindu dated May 3, 1915, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XIII, ‘69. Speech at Reception at Mayavaram’, pp. 69–70. Ambedkar (1989, Volume 5, Chapter 4: ‘The Indian Ghetto—The Centre of Untouchability—Outside the Fold’, pp. 23–25). Reported in the Hindu dated May 3, 1915, reproduced in M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XIII, ‘69. Speech at Reception at Mayavaram’, pp. 69–70. M.K. Gandhi’s speech at Ahmedabad on June 5, 1916, reported in Gujarati on June 11, 1916, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XIII, ‘233. Speech on Caste System, Ahmedabad’, pp. 277–78; his speech at Bardoli reported in Navajivan dated February 2, 1922, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXII, ‘118. Speech at Bardoli Taluka Conference’, pp. 287–94; his speech on November 5, 1917, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XIV, ‘20. A Stain on India’s Forehead’, p. 73; his letter to Cf Andrews dated May 25, 1920, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XVII, pp. 534–35; his article in Young India dated January 5, 1922, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXII, ‘62. The Congress and After’, pp. 131–37.

Synthesising the Gandhi-Ambedkar-Narayanaguru-Marx Visions... 103 32. Dr B.R. Ambedkar, ‘Statement on Temple Entry Bill, February 14, 1933’, reproduced in What Congress and Gandhi Have Done to the Untouchables, cited in Moon (1990: 108–13). 33. M.K. Gandhi’s interview to the Associated Press on February 14, 1933, reported in the Hindu and Hindustan Times dated February 15, 1933, in M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume LIII, ‘408. Interview to Associated Press’, pp. 305–08. 34. M.K. Gandhi’s speech on ‘Ashram Vows’ of February 16, 1916, reported in The Indian Review of February 1916, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XIII, p. 225; his speech on March 18, 1916 at a conference, reported in the Vedic Magazine of April– May, 1916, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume, XIII, p. 259. 35. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume, XIII, ‘233. Speech on Caste System, Ahmedabad’, pp. 277–78. 36. M.K. Gandhi’s writing in Young India of October 27, 1920, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XVIII, ‘213. Depressed Classes’, pp. 375–77; his ‘Preface to Amritlal Padhiar’s “Antyaja Stotra”’ dated April 17, 1918, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XI, p. 344. 37. M.K. Gandhi’s notes in Navajivan dated May 30, 1920, under the head ‘Miscellaneous Issues’, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XVII, pp. 470– 72; his article in Navajivan dated March 5, 1922 titled ‘My Disappointment’, repinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIIII (March 1922–May 1924), pp. 4– 10; his ‘Notes’ in Young India dated March 9, 1922, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIII, pp. 29–53; his interview to Indulal Yagnik at Sabarmati Jail on March 11, 1922, reported in Navajivan dated March 19, 22, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIII (March 1922–May 1924); his ‘Discussion with Harijan Workers” of the Congress at Bardoli on January 8, 1942, reproduced in Collected Works, at http://www. gandhiserve. org/ cwmg/VOL081. PDF, Volume 81, ‘688. Discussion with Harijan Workers’, pp. 414–16; his telegram to Konda Venkatappiah on March 14, 1924, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIII (March 1922–May 1924), p. 236; his statement on March 15, 1924 on Potti Sriramulu’s fast, reproduced in Collected Works, Volume XXIII (March 1922– May 1924), pp. 245–46; his article in Navajivan dated April 20, 1924, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIII, ‘My Notes’, pp. 462–66, under the heading ‘Meaning of Eradicating Untouchability’, pp. 465–66; and his statement on council entry dated April 11, 1924 and issued to the Press on May 22, 1924, reproduced in Collected Works, Volume XXIII, pp. 414–18. 38. M.K. Gandhi’s ‘Notes’ in Young India dated March 9, 22, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIII, pp. 29–53; his letter to C. Vijayaraghavachariar (C. Vijayaraghavachariar, 1850–1943, Congressman presided over the Nagpur Session in 1920), reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIII, pp. 274–75. 39. M.K. Gandhi’s ‘Notes’ in Young India dated March 9, 1922, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIII, pp. 29–53; his letter to C. Vijayaraghavachariar, reprinted in Collected Works, Volume XXIII, pp. 274– 75; his speech at the RTC on November 13, 1931, cited in Dr B.R. Ambedkar,

104 Swaraj and the Reluctant State What Congress and Gandhi Have Done to the Untouchables, op cit, p. 68; his letter to Hakim Ajmal Khan dated March 12, 1922 from the Sabarmati Jail, reproduced in Collected Works, Volume XVIII, pp. 88–91. 40. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, at http://www. gandhiserve. org/cwmg/ VOL025. PDF, Volume XVIII, ‘270. Satyagraha and the Suppressed Classes’, pp. 501–03. 41. M.K. Gandhi, Collected Works, Volume XVII, February–June 1920, pp. 518– 19. 42. B.R. Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done to the Untouchables, op cit, Appendix V, pp. 317–22.

REFERENCES Ambedkar, B.R. (1989). Untouchables or the children of India’s ghetto. In Vasant Moon (Ed.), Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar writings and speeches, Volume 5, Book 1, Part I What is to be an untouchable (pp. 4–5). Education Department, Government of Maharashtra: Mumbai Balakrishnan, P.K. (1954/1969). Narayanaguru: An anthological compilation. Kottayam: Sahithya Pravarthaka Co-operative Society. Gandhi, M.K. Collected works, Volume 23. Available at http://www. gandhiserve. org/cwmg/VOL023. PDF ———. Collected works. New Delhi: Publication Division, Ministry of Information & Broadcasting, Government of India (originally published by Navajivan Trust, Ahmedabad). ———. (1927/2009). An autobiography or The story of my experiments with truth (translated from Gujarati by Mahadev Desai). Ahmebadad: Navajivan Publishing House. ———. (1938). Hind Swaraj or Indian home rule. Ahmedabad: Navajivan Publishing House. Krishnan, P.S. (1994). Socially and educationally backward classes or other backward classes—What should they mean to Indian nation builders. Paper presented at the International Seminar on ‘Ethnicity and Nation-Building in South Asia’ organised by the United States Educational Foundation in India, Madras and Centre for South and Southeast Asian Studies, University of Madras, March 21–23, 1994, Madras. ———. (2009). Empowering Dalits for empowering India: A road map. New Delhi: Dr. B.R. Ambedkar Chair in Social Justice, Indian Institute of Public Administration/Manak Publications. Moon, Vasant (Ed.) (1990). Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar writings and speeches, Volume 9, Part I (pp. 240–42). Education Department, Government of Maharashtra: Mumbai Nadkarni, M.V. (2006/2008). Hinduism: A Gandhian perspective. New Delhi: Ane Books Private Ltd. Pyarelal. (1932). The epic fast. Ahmedabad: Mohanlal Maganlal Bhatt. Vivekananda, Swami. (1897/1992). The future of India. In Complete works of Swami Vivekananda, Vol. 3 (5th ed., pp. 285–304). Kolkata: Advaita Ashram.

2 Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence* Ajay Gudavarthy There is little doubt about the sudden resurgence of interest in Gandhi, and in reading about and rethinking his ideas and legacy for contemporary relevance. The contemporary interpretations seem to have come as a defence on discovering a quintessential Gandhi lost to the myriad of contingent political critiques by the various social groups that have felt shortchanged by the developments integral to the nationbuilding process. These interpretations seem to be premised on the exclusivity of the Gandhian way of pursuing politics based on an ‘integrated lived experience’, and in some senses beyond the scope of the Dalit and feminist critiques, which have become more vocal in the recent past. Similarly, Dalits and feminists seem to be celebrating the centrality and exclusivity of ‘lived experience’ and ‘organic bonds’ in articulating their respective alternative politics. Ironically, mutual criticism of Dalits and feminists on Gandhi and his interpreters and vice versa is precisely based on the concomitant violations and social consequences of insular and essentialised politics, born out of the exclusive privileging of ‘lived experience’. This mode of analysis would enable us not only in recovering, as against re-covering, the convergence between these different political formations but also in highlighting the untenable inconsistency in essentialising one’s own politics while demanding self-reflection on the part of the others. In other words, there is a process of hollow conviction in intersubjective communication, almost and always based on one’s own preconceived set of terms, and not on political principles that originate in course of dialogue. These are the hollowing processes that become susceptible to the post-structural critique that misconstrues all forms of solidarity for hegemony. This evaluation could perhaps help us to * Earlier published in Economic & Political Weekly, Vol. 43, No. 22 (May 32June 6, 2008), pp. 83-90.

106 Swaraj and the Reluctant State understand the possible ways of overcoming narrow particularisms and forging non-hegemonic solidarities. Gandhi versus the Subalterns The nationalist reading of Gandhi, mostly by the historians, essentially focused on Gandhi as a champion against modernisation/ industrialisation and western civilisation in general to recover the core of Indian ethos. His critique against modernity of the west as such, and not just capitalism, had a global impact, as G D H Cole once remarked, ‘Gandhi’s case against the west looks infinitely stronger than it looked, to us westerners 30 years ago.’1 Gandhi was seen as a ‘Mahatma’ who led an unprecedented mass movement representing a unity of all castes, classes, religions, nationalities and gender in recent history. For instance, it has been argued, The tremendous participation of Muslims in the (national) movement and the maintenance of communal unity, despite the Malabar developments, was in itself no mean achievement. There is hardly any doubt that it was Muslim participation that gave the movement its truly mass character in many areas; at some places two-thirds of those arrested were Muslims... the fraternisation that was witnessed between Hindus and Muslims, with Gandhiji and other Congress leaders speaking from mosques, Gandhiji being allowed to address meetings of Muslim women in which he was the only male who was not blindfolded, all these began to look like romantic dreams in later years.2

Gandhi has also been viewed as a crusader who sacrificed his life for a secular India as against a religious or a theocratic state. And finally, he had been characterised as a peace lover who gave the world the weapons of non-violence and Satyagraha that could shake the mighty British empire.3 It was argued that the Congress under Gandhi’s leadership not only came to represent the various classes and caste groups but also was open to accommodate the various ideologies representing these groups. It was in fact interpreted as the source of democracy for the independent India because, ‘the Indian national movement is perhaps one of the best examples of the creation of an extremely wide movement with a common aim in which diverse political and ideological currents could coexist and work...this diversity and atmosphere of freedom and debate became a major source of its strength.’4 The charismatic leadership of Gandhi, it was argued, could genuinely accommodate the various social groups even in times when they lost direction in fighting for their sectarian interests.5 Most of such writings made a rather unproblematic reading of Gandhi’s contribution to the freedom movement and to later politics in post-colonial India.

Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence 107 Marxist critique This euphoric nationalist variant of writings on Gandhi was to encounter scathing critiques concerned with the implication of Gandhian politics for the various marginalised social groups. Perhaps the foremost criticism came from the Marxist historians and political theorists concerned primarily with the negation of the class politics and mobilisation around a radical agenda aimed at the large-scale structural transformation. It was with this purpose that certain basic questions were raised as to whether, ...these long-cherished assumptions (were) correct? Whom did the Congress leadership represent? Were the Congress leaders great antiimperialist crusaders, as conventional historiography represents them? Did they really seek to establish a sovereign nation state or to achieve selfgovernment within the imperialist system, “a privilege... to have a decent place in the household of King George the Fifth” (as G D Birla put it in 1932)? Were the anti-colonial struggles waged independently of the Congress by the peasantry, the working class and the urban petty bourgeosie, complementary to the movements led by the Congress, as it is generally assumed, or of an antagonistic character? Against whom was the weapon of satyagraha aimed?6

It was sought to be argued by writings of this nature7 that the Congress became a mass party and Gandhi an acceptable leader only because they never questioned the socio-economic roots of British imperialism in any serious or sustained manner.8 The Congress also exemplified and facilitated the continued dominance of the traditional dominant classes over the millions of the dispossessed. Even the socialist rhetoric was used to maintain the political hegemony of the Congress without necessarily taking their ideological principles seriously. Contrary to radical mobilisation, it was argued: It was their deliberate strategy to keep the masses removed as far as possible from the sphere of active politics and to cast them at best in passive or harmless roles when occasions demanded. The people were asked to ply the ‘charkha’, observe ‘hartal’, fast and pray, boycott foreign cloth, manufacture salt for a few months and cast votes in elections in favour of even lamp posts, which the leadership would erect. When the people overlooked or ignored the limitations imposed on them and came forward to play a more active, militant role and started endowing the movements with the character of national liberation struggle, the movements were abruptly suspended, and this sudden bottling up of great struggles gave rise to confusion, demoralisation and mutual strife.9

In other words, Gandhian politics served to facilitate the emerging alliance between the Indian big bourgeoisie, big landlords and princes, and elite political leadership, as against the ‘revolutionary struggles of

108 Swaraj and the Reluctant State the people’. In fact, the national movement constituted two domains of politics—that of the elites and the subalterns. And it was around this fundamental premise that there was a great shift in the understanding of the nationalist movement from an all-encompassing centrist interpretation of the nationalist school towards the subaltern perspective. The ‘subaltern studies’ further developed the critique of looking at the nationalist movement solely through the dominant role of the Congress neglecting the various struggles independently waged by the subaltern not only against the British imperialism but also the hegemony of the Congress that sidelined the various pressing demands of the different vulnerable social groups. This reading against the grain by the subaltern school yet again cast new doubts on the meta-historical role of Gandhi and his philosophy. Anachronistically speaking, it was in this context Ranajit Guha very emphatically argued that, Parallel to the domain of elite politics there existed throughout the colonial period another domain of Indian politics in which the principal actors were not the dominant groups of the indigenous society or the colonial authorities but the subaltern classes and groups constituting the mass of the labouring population and the intermediate strata in town and country —that is, the people. This was an autonomous domain, for it neither originated from elite politics nor did its existence depend on the latter. 10

Reinforcing Tradition The politico-historical analysis projected Gandhian philosophy and praxis more as a docile product of his times, which further entrenched the traditional and hierarchical characteristics of the Indian society rather than challenging them in any serious and sustained manner. It was argued that Gandhi struck a responsive chord in Hindu culture and connected it rather ingeniously with the politics of the freedom movement. Gandhi, by bringing in the religious discourse into the political frame, which actually worked very well for the purposes of mobilisation, reinforced many of the traditional constructs and practices. Many of his own formulations in fact were in some way or the other extensions of the Hindu religious philosophy and in this, sense some of the sociologists have argued that Gandhian philosophy played no different role from that of the Hindu religion in terms of preventing the national movement and the subalterns to gravitate towards a more radical agenda of social transformation.11 For instance, Barrington Moore observes that one of the reasons as to why Indian peasantry was more docile than their counterparts elsewhere in Asia was due to the social regulation through the theory of karma or reincarnation that was predominant in the rural countryside. Peasants actually believed that ‘A person who obeyed the requirements of caste etiquettes in this life

Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence 109 would be born into a higher caste in the next. Submissiveness in this life was to be rewarded by a rise in the social scale in the next’.12 This idea of submissiveness was central to most of the political ideas that Gandhi developed. It is this underlying connection that allows for looking at the conservative implication of Gandhian philosophy. Moore therefore argues: Gandhi provid a link between powerful sections of the bourgeoisie and the peasantry through the doctrine of non-violence, trusteeship, and the glorification of the Indian village community. For this and other reasons, the nationalist movement did not take a revolutionary form, though civil disobedience forced the withdrawal of a weakened British empire. The outcome of these forces was indeed political democracy, but a democracy that has not done a great deal toward modernising India’s social structure.13

The writings within this framework on Gandhi revolved around, on the one side, the nationalist framework emphasising the Gandhian contribution in giving rise to a secular, democratic, nonviolent and an ethical India as against the Marxist and the subaltern scholars keen on understanding the implications of Gandhian philosophy and praxis in arresting radical social transformation and acting as a messiah for the poor without questioning the vested interests of the dominant social classes/communities. This mode of analysis underwent a drastic change with a generic decline of the critical theory in the academia, marked by political economy analysis in general and Marxism in particular falling out of favour, and within history writing itself there was a substantial shift away from social history in general and in the subaltern studies in particular. There was a gradual and a consistent decline of the subaltern in subaltern studies. From focusing on the autonomous contribution of the underprivileged groups such as the Tribals, peasants and workers and marking the processes of their marginalisation, there was a decisive shift towards critiquing the western colonial power-knowledge, with non-western community consciousness as its valorised alternative. Also what had emerged was a shift in terms of recognising such communities principally as religious identities.14 Not only did the subaltern studies lose the critical edge in terms of providing a critique of the implications of Gandhian politics, but they also moved close to a near-nationalist position in eulogising the role of Gandhi and other national leaders in providing a critique of western traditions and civilisation. Sumit Sarkar rather incisively argues, There are elements of a rich paradox in this shift of binaries from elite/ subaltern to colonial/indigenous community or western/third world cultural nationalist. A project that had started with a trenchant attack on elite nationalist historiography had now chosen as its hero the principal iconic figure of official Indian nationalism, and its most influential text

110 Swaraj and the Reluctant State after Elementary Aspects was built entirely around the (partial) study of just three indisputably elite figures, Bankimchandra, Gandhi and Nehru.15

It is such paradoxical shifts that made the assessment of Gandhi’s ideas for the vulnerable social groups and import for contemporary politics rather tangential and nebulous. ‘Lived Experience’ The old issues of marginalisation and implications of elite politics on the one hand and the limitations of the Marxist and the subaltern approach on the other were (re-)raised within new epistemic frameworks articulated by Dalits and feminists and their mass movements. It was a shift marked by the rise of new organic intellectuals from the Dalit community, who interrogated historical and contemporary political practices in terms of the authenticity of a lived experience, which was what according to them was missing from the earlier critical projects, and partly the reason for the way they declined and became increasingly inadequate in capturing alternative subaltern politics. They, therefore, began to argue that, The makers of history themselves should become the writers of history so that the interaction between history and the makers of history is a living interaction. In this sense, both western and Indian upper caste scholars/ historians were the other and wrote the Dalit-Bahujan history in their voice. Hence, the very difference between others and us distorted the living spirit of that history...The organicness, therefore, is more fundamental for perceiving the reality in its true spirit.16

The organic nature helps articulate ideological projects from radically alternative Dalit-Bahujan epistemology where ‘the Dalit-Bahujans have their own theory of knowledge which produces and reproduces itself in the day-to-day interaction with ‘prakruti’ (nature)...’17 This mode of arguing was further entrenched with not just epistemological claims for authentic representations but also in terms of ethical and normative claims that have no place for the outsider. It is just that non-Dalits have no moral right to theorise about Dalits since there is a deep-seated ‘inability to either recover or throw up an alternative concept (happens) because these scholars choose to theorise Dalit experience standing outside Dalit experience.’18 The uniqueness of these claims rests on the exclusivity of this experience—an experience that cannot be replicated. In other words, The lived experience of Dalits is not about sharing their lifestyles, living with them and being like them, but being them in the sense you cannot be anything else.... lived experience is not about freedom of experience but about the lack of freedom in experience.19

Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence 111 The claims to authenticity therefore emerge from a closure, where neither can the experience be shared nor can it be replicated. It also closes the avenues to understand the internal mechanisms of generating knowledge, since this is a knowledge born out of an internally closed lived experience. There is, it seems, an unproblematic collapse between an experience of being a subject and experience about the subject, with a sense of completeness unto itself. The social completeness of the experience could well generate insularity in the sense of opening a ‘dialogue (only) between their own history and their ongoing struggles’.20 As there is a dimension of external incommunicability that restricts the possibility of inter-subjective communication there could as well be a strong dimension of internal insularity that incapacitates dialogue between the various fragments of the lived experience, for instance, between Dalit women and their more dominant male counterparts. Feminists’ ‘Bodily experience’ On a similar note, the feminists have also argued for the epistemic indubitability of the knowledge based on ‘bodily experience’ and therefore the study of women should be done by women themselves. Feminists privileging lived experience believe that such a foundation provides incontestable evidence ‘not only (for) theoretical paradigms and propositions but also of day to day and mass politics.’21 It is an origin point of explanation and not an epiphenomenon of larger processes. These propositions raise very many questions about the veracity of the politics that flow out of them. Firstly, as Joan Scotts argues, ‘grounding exclusively on experience renders invisible the historicity of experience and reproduces the very terms and conditions upon which that experience is in fact founded—and therefore cannot contribute to transformation.’22 In other words, given experience needs to be interrogated; there is a simultaneous need to own up, self-reflect and distance one’s self from her lived experience. Otherwise, the experience is prone to be susceptible to available dominant forms of practices and articulation, and would actively replicate them. As Paulo Freire argues, radical subjectivity is not unproblematically available to the oppressed; on the contrary many a time the oppressed tends to become oppressors or sub-oppressors. They might unconsciously strive to identify with the opposite pole. For instance, it is not to become free human beings that the oppressed might want agrarian reforms, but to themselves become landowners. This could be true of all forms of struggles. The oppressed often have the image of the oppressor strongly entrenched in their mind and they have no readily available radical alternative subjectivity. Thus in order for the oppositional struggles...

112 Swaraj and the Reluctant State ‘to have meaning, the oppressed must not in seeking to regain their humanity become in turn oppressors of the oppressors, but rather restorers of the humanity of both... this then is the great historical and humanist task of the oppressed: to liberate themselves and their oppressors as well.’23 Secondly, experiential mode of pursuing politics gravitates towards essentialist postures by levelling out differences and particularities and ‘instituting one paradigmatic account as the dominant account to which all potential variants must confirm.’24 The category of ‘woman’, for Dalit women or lesbians across the globe was an essentialist one: ‘Certainly, women inhabit a world of biologically determined but socially constructed gender, but they equally inhabit class, caste, racial, religious, and sexual identities, many of which rent solidarities among women disastrously.’25 The purport of these propositions is not to argue that experience is merely a construct of the structures, linguistic or otherwise,26 but to foreground the point that it is never epistemically self-sufficient since ‘experience is not a clear datum but a complex of elements in need of clarification and reflection.’27 This reflection, as against essentialism and the inability to relate to socio-historical dynamics, is located in the interstices of intersubjective communication. Gandhi and His ‘lived experience’ The Gandhian approach and its implication for political processes, against which, rather ironically, both Dalits and feminists have in the recent past been unequivocally critical, is also constrained by the same existential/experiential mode. Gandhian ideas ‘about very specific political strategies in specific contexts flowed from ideas that were very remote from politics.’28 For instance, the idea of Brahmacharya had a crucial link to Gandhian idea of politics. Gandhi argued, ‘Brahmacharya does not mean merely physical self-control. It means much more. It means complete control over all the senses...I have not acquired that control over my thoughts... there is perhaps a flaw somewhere which accounts for the apparent failure of leadership...’29 Therefore, Gandhian political praxis reveals very little compared to what it hides; a complex internal process, which invariably includes ‘things which are known only to oneself and one’s maker. These are clearly incommunicable.’30 Gandhi’s ‘voice of conscience’ was the only tyrant he was willing to surrender himself to—he could recognise no higher court of appeal than the court of conscience—and it provided him with a moral experience—the experience of truth, which is an experiential and not a cognitive notion—inextricably tied to a lived experience. The dictates of this still small voice were final, and provided

Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence 113 him with unquestionable guidance to his political praxis. As early as 1916, Gandhi wrote, ‘There come to us moments in life when about some things we need no proof from without. A little voice within us tells us you are on the right track...’31 It is this individual conscience that Gandhi was concerned with socialising rather than internalising the social conscience.32 The experience of the conscience (or truth or God) cannot assume moral proportions unless it is part of one’s lived experience. If lived experience is all about an absolute lack of choice or freedom, it is precisely this aspect that Gandhi emphasised in his idea of a true Satyagrahi who has the compelling obligation, ‘to suffer for one’s beliefs to the point of spiritual isolation and even public ridicule, involving if necessary political martyrdom and even physical death.’33 Actualising the dictates of the conscience is tied up, not with unbounded freedom to act, but in realising the absolute lack of it, and therefore, ‘The civil resister of Gandhi’s conception cannot protest at being put into prison for the violation of laws that he regards as immoral and unjust. He meekly and willingly submits to the penalty of disobedience and cheerfully accepts jail discipline and its attendant hardships.... (emphasis—my addition).’34 These strictures or obligations of the conscience, in a sense, are stronger than the ascriptive constraints. The point is that by emphasising the centrality of obligation (directed inwards—towards one’s conscience) Gandhi wished to equalise the moral burden on one and all, and thereby neutralise the various social hierarchies and inequalities. He felt that, by generalising the language of obligations internally he wished to make external differences irrelevant. These obligations would generate similar (though arrived at individually) lived experience for everyone. What he sought to change was not the material condition so much as the moral condition. However, the possibility that such generalisation in a hierarchised society, such as India, might lead to moral purification of everyone, yet leave the social hierarchies untouched was completely overlooked. In other words, oppression was an abstract moral condition without being linked to the concrete social and historical experience.35 This in fact has been the consequence of, and critique against, Gandhian philosophy. Same Resonance in Feminism Ironically, such prioritisation and generalisation of obligation have a resonance in feminist theories that have unproblematically privileged women’s experience and attempted to build a theory taking that experience as given, rather than critically and historically interrogating it. For instance, feminists such as Nancy Hirschmann have argued that

114 Swaraj and the Reluctant State since women are bound to series of obligations, such as childcare, to which consent is not only often unavailable but often of questionable relevance it follows that, ‘A feminist ontology and epistemology would operate from the philosophical priority of obligation.’36 In other words, from a feminist standpoint, perhaps obligation needs to be taken as given and ‘obligation is the standard against which other things, such as the freedom to act as one wishes, are measured... In this feminist conception, it is the assumption of obligation that demands an explanation of non-fulfilment.’37 The parallels with the Gandhian prioritisation of obligation are more than clear, so are the consequences where women have traditionally been considered naturally bound to the care of their husbands, children, and others. As Carole Pateman pointed out, rather than seeing this historical bondage and the experience of it as problematic, we begin to accept it as a new feminist starting point for thinking about politics.38 She therefore argues, ‘Feminists would be ill-advised to give up the priority of freedom... (and) whether a political order in which all are cared for can be created if freedom for all is relinquished as a priority.’39 In effect we at best leave untouched and at worst further entrench the exploited position of women in the society. Gandhi followed a very similar path in terms of taking the given experience and position of women as readily available for oppositional politics. He very unequivocally argued that, ‘Women are the incarnation of Ahimsa. Ahimsa means infinite love, which again means infinite capacity for suffering.” 40 Suffering violence without retaliation led Gandhi to conclude that women should be most apt for mobilising them as Satyagrahis. Related to this were his attempts to make strategic use of women’s position in the family and argued, ‘The Swadeshi vow, too, cannot be kept fully if women do not help. Men alone will be able to do nothing in the matter. They have no control over the children; that is woman’s sphere. To look after children, to dress them, is the mother’s duty and, therefore, it is necessary that women should be fired with the spirit of Swadeshi (emphasis—author’s addition).’41 These observations point to Gandhi’s ‘realisation of the need to mobilise the household or the family as a unit—the citadel of conservation—without however throwing a challenge to the social conservative function that it was supposed to fulfil.’ 42 Building politics on given experience can lay oppressive entrapments in which alternative politics can inextricably get caught. Exclusive ‘lived experience’ Further, the ideas, knowledge and praxis generated on the basis of such inwardly-oriented lived experience in Gandhi is also (very much like the claims of the Dalits and feminists) exclusive, rather than social. It

Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence 115 can be neither replicated nor available as political principles. ‘For him (Gandhi) conscience and its deliverances, though relevant to others, are not the wellspring of principles. Morals is (sic) only about conscience, not at all about principles.’43 There is therefore insularity about the way Gandhi pursues his morals and the political praxis that flows out of a closed internally lived experience between him and his maker. These metaphysical presuppositions and unprovable assumptions 44 are themselves unquestionable as they are not open to cognition, but constitute an inexplicable moral experience. However, Bilgrami affirmatively argues, ‘The romance in this morality is radiant. Somehow goodness, good acts, enter the world and affect everyone else. To ask how exactly they do that is to be vulgar, to spoil the romance. Goodness is a sort of mysterious contagion.’45 Further, for Bilgrami the inexplicability of the experience, ‘far from encouraging self-enclosed moral subjects’, in fact is an extremely humanising exercise since Gandhi severed the link between moral belief and moral criticism. In other words, Satygrahis are moral exemplars, who are fully confident about the moral values they wish to exemplify. However they do not arrogate to themselves the moral superiority to criticise others, but only to persuade them by setting an example. Therefore, ‘At most we may be disappointed in others that they will not follow our example, and at least part of the disappointment in ourselves that our example has not taken hold.’46 While this aspect of disappointment might seem to keep in place a continuous process of self-reflection and self-criticism, it however is only formal. The method of persuading others might be open and selfcritical, but the moral values at stake are non-negotiable. This can often reduce the others to mute spectators with little choice in the offering. The parties that disagree might be forced into an unthought-out consensus on compassionate grounds. Gandhi was of the firm belief that ‘the eyes of their understanding are opened not by argument but by the suffering of the Satyagrahi.’ Intention vs Consequences A more critical reading of Gandhi would inform us of what was underlying, and that this kind of a formal severing of moral belief and criticism (mediated by self-suffering) to be mistaken for an essentially democratic outcome, was the confusion between intention and consequences. Compassion, sacrifice and suffering only reveal your intention and not necessarily the (political) consequence of the moral values one is upholding.47 The point that actions analysed with their basis in intentions will help us recover an ‘integrated experience’, beyond the political overlooks the necessary ambiguities it constitutes.

116 Swaraj and the Reluctant State For instance, Bhagat Singh argued against the sessions court’s judgment on the basis of the importance of motive and said, My lords...the point is as to what were our intentions and to what extent we are guilty...and no one can do justice to anybody without taking his motive into consideration. If you ignore the motive, the biggest generals of the world will appear like ordinary men responsible for creating disturbances...revenue officers will look like thieves and cheats. If we set aside the motive, then Jesus Christ will also appear to be a man responsible for creating disturbances...rulers of that age could not recognise that high idealism. They only saw his outward actions. Nineteen centuries have passed since then. Have we not progressed during this period?48

Ironically, intentions can as easily be subverted for anti-democratic implications. Commenting on the unjustly heavier punishment for crimes with political intentions, a leading civil rights activist K Balagopal argued: What distinguishes a terrorist gang from a dacoit gang is not any qualitative difference in the nature of the offences committed (in both cases, the offence is a crime of armed violence against person and property), but the difference in the intention. The intention of the terrorist gang is political...And it is this political nature of the intention that... (entails) a much heavier punishment and much more illiberal procedure of investigation and trial. Can this be called a reasonable classification in a country whose Constitution guarantees the freedom of political choice implicitly as a fundamental right?49

Thus he strongly argues against the classification of identical offences into separate categories according to the political intentions underlying the act. It is therefore important that even in critiquing Gandhi, it is simplistic to develop a conspiracy theory around his intention, as Barrington Moore sums up, ‘it is unlikely that the absence of any elements of economic radicalism was the result of a deliberate Machiavellian choice by Gandhi. For our purposes his personal motives are unimportant.’50 Revisiting Gandhi versus the Subaltern It is in fact around these inter-related factors—insularity, confusion between intention and consequence, and the metaphysical presuppositions and unprovable assumptions—that some of the contemporary Dalit scholars make a reading of Gandhi and again the implications of his politics for the subaltern in general and Dalits in particular. They argue that Gandhian mode of mobilisation, with strong parallels with religious symbolism and entrenched moral language made his politics insular and metaphysical. For instance, Discarding western garb in favour of the loincloth, and using cultural

Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence 117 symbols associated with the life of a holy man—austere living, fasts, the observance of days of silence, the demonstrative use of celibacy, holy books and prayer meetings—gave him the image of a saint. His deft use of religious forms to communicate with the masses absolved him of the need to lay out his plans and programmes in concrete terms (emphasis—author’s addition).51

In other words, the Machiavelli in the Mahatma was more than evident in his praxis that was based on a dialogue with one’s own conscience and directed inwards to be answerable to none other than your own inner voice and was a mode of creating insularity in mobilising the masses. Instead of being open to dialogue with the masses that he claims to represent, Gandhian politics had a top-down approach. Satyagraha was the main weapon of the movement and Gandhi was the selfappointed expert and others were mere foot soldiers to be used to demonstrate solidarity through sheer passive and inactive presence. Similar was the impact, Dalit scholars feel, in deploying fasts that not only helped him to maintain his dictatorship in demanding unquestioned obedience from the Congress but also to coerce others to fall in line as he did with Ambedkar during the Poona Pact. After the demand for separate electorates for the depressed classes, Gandhi threatened to commit self-immolation and later began his fast unto death in the Yeravada prison.52 It had further consequences when Ambedkar was isolated and reviled in the filthiest of words for putting the Mahatma’s life in danger.53 Fasts were external exemplifications of his underlying notion of a truth that was moral, unified, unchanging and transcendental and therefore ‘varnashrama dharma’ was an ageless, timeless unchanging truth over changing history.54 Similar was the Gandhian idea of the masses that they were the dumb millions who do not know their own interests—and it was necessary to ‘save them from themselves’. This patronising attitude justified his insularity to any dialogue and reflected in his half-hearted beginnings to mass movements, hedged on several preconditions and withdrawal at the slightest sign of initiative slipping into the hands of the masses. This was more than clear in his so-called constructive programmes for the Harijans, where they were only marginal to it and on the contrary they were merely objects to be exploited for their spiritual salvation in heaven.55 Thus, non-deliberated sacrifice and self-suffering convert into a moral hegemony and therefore intentions make little difference. Reiterating this point Dalit scholars have argued ‘Religion (thus) whether or not intended by Gandhi, coincided with the giving up of the political for the masses.’56

118 Swaraj and the Reluctant State In Lieu of a Conclusion To conclude, the emerging new identity politics are too strongly bound within the experiential confines of demands for recognition, and might willy-nilly entrench the social practices they in fact wish to transcend. There is, perhaps, a pressing need to recognise that social groups and the processes they are caught in are not regionally enclosed but part of, as E.P. Thompson put it, an integrated material life. It is therefore ‘important to see that while members of groups that have experienced historical exclusion, contempt, or obloquy may indeed need new social practices in order to flourish. What they are seeking is not always recognition.’57 Given identity or experience, many a time, could merely be a vantage point to make sense of life rather than offer an unproblematic resource for oppositional politics. Whether it is Gandhi or contemporary identity politics, both have ended up setting a minimalist agenda of transformation that could be excruciatingly self-defeating. Thus, ‘It’s equally important not to pursue a politics of recognition too far. If recognition entails taking notice of one’s identity in social life, then the development of strong norms of identification can become not liberating but oppressive...there is no clear line between recognition and a new kind of oppression.’58 This oppression can be felt strongly more than anywhere else internally in terms of closing off a critical dialogue between various constituents of a social group. Maintaining internal silence could well become a precondition for laying a claim to authenticity. Such entrapments would eventually be incapable of raising a series of questions that are central to the kind of transformative politics that were initially envisaged. As for the Dalits, these could include processes where, ‘...with the spread of education...by virtue of their detachment from their setting and production relations [supervisory jobs on behalf of the owner or administrative/quasi-administrative jobs on behalf of the state] (they) do represent a transition in class. There has even emerged a section of Dalit bourgeois, relatively small though, in the form of contractors, small-scale industrialists, petrol pump owners, transporters and of late certain service vendors...They mark the emergence of a new age prototype of Dalit petty bourgeois that reflects a weird combination of belief in neoliberal ideology, faith in identity politics and communitarian convictions.’59 Along with this insularity there could then be an ironical convergence with the very politics that is being attempted to overcome and to eventually displace it.

Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence 119 REFERENCES 1. Quoted from Thomas Pantham, ‘Thinking with Mahatma Gandhi: Beyond Liberal Democracy’, Political Theory, Vol. 11, May 1983, p. 165. 2. Bipan Chandra, India’s Struggle for Independence, Penguin, New Delhi, 1989, p. 196. Mostly the nationalist historians led by Bipan Chandra and others popularised such interpretations of Gandhi. 3. Refer V.R. Mehta, Beyond Marxism, Manohar, New Delhi, 1978. 4. Bipan Chandra, op cit, p. 14. 5. Gandhian strategy of ‘politics of accommodation’ continued to be of significance to the Constitution making process, and also the postindependence politics. Granville Austin elaborates on this making a crucial distinction between compromise and accommodation, in his book, Indian Constitution: A Corner Stone (Oxford University press, Oxford, 1978); for post-independence politics refer, Rudolph and Rudolph, In Pursuit of Lakshmi (University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 1969 ) and Francine Frankel, India’s Political Economy 1947-77 (Princeton University Press, Princeton, 1978). For a critique of ‘politics of accommodation’ refer, Sudipta Kaviraj, ‘A Critique of Passive Revolution’ in Partha Chatterjee (ed), State and Politics in India (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1997). 6. Suniti Kumar Ghosh, India and the Raj 1919-47, Prachi, Calcutta, 1989, quoted from the preface. 7. Such writings alternatively claimed the legacy of Dadabhai Naoroji, Poverty and the Un-British Rule in India (Delhi, 1901) and later R.P. Dutt, India Today (Bombay, 1947). 8. At his meeting with the European Association at the Grand Hotel in Calcutta in July 1925, Gandhi declared, ‘I am dying to cooperate...The destinies of England and India have been thrown together and have been thrown together for a good purpose, namely, the service of humanity’. 9. Suniti Kumar Ghosh, op cit, p. 23. 10. Ranajit Guha, ‘On Some Aspects of the Historiography of Colonial India’ in R. Guha (ed), Subaltern Studies I, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, p. 4. Refer generally for an insight into the novel contribution to history writing in India in general and for an alternative critical interpretation of the role of Congress and Gandhi in particular the initial volumes of the Subaltern Studies edited by Ranajit Guha. For a general overview of the subaltern project, refer, ‘Alternative Histories: A View from India’, SEPHISCSSSC Publication, 2002. 11. There is of course the radically different interpretation of the likes of Ashis Nandy, T.N. Madan and Partha Chatterjee, who believe that Gandhi could foresee the serious limitation of separating religion and politics in a society based predominantly on ascriptive identities and therefore Gandhi had argued, ‘Those who wish to separate religion from politics, neither understood religion nor politics’. Gandhi instead offered an ethical reading of politics as religion was not a removed public institution but in fact ‘a way of life’ for the masses. For a detailed account of this argument refer, Asish Nandy, ‘Politics of Secularism and Recovery of Religious Tolerance’,

120 Swaraj and the Reluctant State

12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

17.

18. 19. 20. 21.

22. 23.

Alternatives, XIII, 1988. This approach in turn has been critiqued as ‘Vulgar Gandhism’ that overlooks the closed insularity of religion as such and not a matter of this or that way of linking religion with politics. This debate partly opens the possible link between Gandhian modes of pursuing insular politics that resemble religious methods. For a more detailed account of the various shades of this debate, refer Thomas Pantham, ‘Debating Indian Secularism’ in Rajendra Vohra and Suhas Palsikar (eds), Indian Democracy, Sage, Delhi, 2000. Barrington Moore, Social Origins of Democracy and Dictatorship, Peregrine, London, 1977, p. 335. Ibid., p. 316. Sumit Sarkar, Writing Social History, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, 1997, p. 82. Ibid., p. 92. Kancha Illiah, ‘Caste or Class or Caste-Class: A Study of Dalitbahujan Consciousness and Struggles in Andhra Pradesh in 1980s’ in Manoranjan Mohanty (ed), Caste, Class and Gender, Sage, New Delhi, 2004, p. 227. Kancha Illiah’s, Why I am Not a Hindu (Samya, Calcutta, 1998) was one of the first attempts to explain the various everyday cultural practices of the Dalits that are distinct and at times completely at odds with the caste-Hindu practices. This semi-autobiographical existentialist mode of writing was attempted to confirm the point that the caste background and the past experience of the scholar him/herself matters. Kancha Illiah, ‘Dalitism vs Brahmanism: The Epistemological Conflict in History’ in Ghanshyam Shah (ed), Dalit Identity and Politics, Sage, Delhi, 2001, p. 110. Gopal Guru, ‘How Egalitarian Are the Social Sciences in India? Economic & Political Weekly, December 14, 2002, p. 5004. Sunder Sarukkai, ‘Dalit Experience and Theory’, Economic & Political Weekly, October 6, 2007, p. 4045. Kancha Illiah, op cit. 2004, p. 227. As Grosz, ‘Merleau-Ponty and Irigaray in the Flesh’ quoted from Linda Martin Alcoff, ‘Phenomenology, Post-Structuralism and Feminist Theory of the Concept of Experience’ in Linda Fisher (ed), Feminist Phenomenology, Klugn Academic Publishers, London, 1995, p. 34. This was also the basis for instituting various Women’s Studies programmes and centres in the universities. Joan Scotts and Judith Butler (eds), Feminists Theorise the Political, Routledge, New York, 1992, p. 24. Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Penguin Books, Middlesex, 1972, p. 31. Ernesto Laclau expresses a similar anxiety, he writes, ‘If the relation of oppression is simply inverted, the other (the former oppressor) is maintained as what is now oppressed and repressed, and this inversion of the content leaves the form of oppression unchanged... The operation of inversion takes place entirely within the old formal system of power’ in E. Laclau, ‘Universalism, Particularism, and the Question of Identity’ in E.N. Wilmsen (ed), The Politics of Difference (University of Chicago Press,

Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence 121 Chicago, 1996, p. 54). 24. Linda Fisher, ‘Phenomenology and Feminism: Perspective on Their Relation’ in Linda Fisher (ed), op cit, p. 24. 25. Neera Chandoke, Conceits of Civil Society, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 2003, p. 209. 26. As Joan Scotts argues, ‘Experience is a linguistic event—the question then becomes how to analyse it’ which presumes that experience is ‘an epiphenomena originating entirely outside of the individual in the linguistic structures’ in Joan Scott, op cit. It is another matter that Ernesto Laclau and Chantall Mouffe refuse to make any distinction between linguistic and extra-linguistic structures and are critical of Foucault for making such, what they believe to be untenable distinctions. Refer Hegemony and Socialist Strategy, Verso, London, 1985. Also Ernsto Laclau and Chantall Mouffe, ‘Post-Marxism without Apologies’, New Left Review, Nov/Dec 1987, 166. 27. Linda Martin, op cit, p. 48. 28. Akeel Bilgrami, ‘Gandhi, the Philosopher’, Economic & Political Weekly, September 27, 2003, p. 4159. 29. Quoted from, Llyod Rudolph and Susane Rudoplh, Postmodern Gandhi and Other Essays, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2006, p. 211. 30. M.K. Gandhi, Autobiography (ed by Dover), p. viii. 31. Gandhi in Young India, quoted from, Raghavan Iyer, The Moral and Political Thought of Mahatma Gandhi, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1972, p. 124. He also said, ‘The satyagraha leader is useless when he acts against the prompting of his own conscience, surrounded as he must be by people holding all kind of views’, p. 299. 32. Ibid., p. 123. He therefore said, ‘The human voice can never reach the distance that is conveyed by the still small voice of conscience. The only tyrant I accept in this world is the still small voice within’, p. 121. 33. Ibid., p. 124. He further argued, ‘whatever a man’s place is, whether the place which he has chosen or that in which he has been placed by a commander, then he ought to remain in the hour of danger, taking no account of death or anything else in comparison with disgrace”. 34. Ibid., p. 155. 35. Phrase used by Madhu Kishwar, ‘Gandhi on Women’, Economic & Political Weekly, October 5, 1985, p. 1699. I am thankful to Ramachandra Guha for suggesting and giving the reference to this article. 36. Nancy Hirschmann, ‘Freedom, Recognition and Obligation: A Feminist Approach to Political Theory’, American Political Science Review, Vol. 83, December 1989, p. 1241. 37. Ibid. 38. Carole Pateman, ‘Political Obligation, Freedom and Feminism’, American Political Science Review, Vol. 86, March 1992. 39. Ibid., p. 182. Hirschmann, however in her reply to Pateman, reiterates that. ‘Women’s subjugation has endured precisely because of theorists’ refusal to incorporate the aspects of life typified in women’s experience.’ The point however is not to not take women’s experience into account but how much

122 Swaraj and the Reluctant State of it can be taken as given for the purposes of transformative politics. 40. Quoted from Rudolph and Rudolph, op cit, p 222. They also observe that Gandhi reinforced very explicit feminine identification. He found his mother more appealing than his father (p. 223). Elsewhere he wrote, ‘spinning is essentially a slow and comparatively silent process. Woman is the embodiment of sacrifice and therefore, non-violence’, quoted from Madhu Kishwar, op cit, p. 1695. 41. Quoted from Madhu Kishwar, p. 1695. It, perhaps, would not be inappropriate to point out that early women’s movement too, in India, mobilised women against rising prices of domestic items, such as kerosene, by representing them as ‘women’s issues’; as if rising prices exclusively or even primarily concerned only women. This only further reinforced women’s status as ‘home makers’. 42. Ibid. 43. Akeel, op cit, p. 4162. 44. This is how Raghavan Iyer refers to as a possible way of understanding sathyagraha, op cit, p. 287. 45. Ibid., p. 4163. 46. Ibid. 47. This is as true for the contemporary radical left struggles in India, which often seek to settle the authenticity of their political positions by resorting to the argument that the superior sacrifice the activists in the movement are willing to give is a clear indication of the political correctness of their position. For more on this, refer, Ajay Gudavarthy, ‘Human Rights Movement(s) in India: State, Civil Society and Beyond’ (Contributions to Indian Sociology, (ns) 42, 1 (2008). 48. Source shahidbhagatsingh.org, quoted from the Frontline, November 2, 2007, p. 18. 49. K. Balagopal, ‘In Defence of India: Supreme Court and Terrorism’, Economic & Political Weekly, August 6, 1994, p. 2059. 50. Barrington Moore, op cit, p. 373. 51. Ranjan, Debrahamanising History, Manohar, New Delhi, 2005, p. 382. 52. Gandhi declared that ‘for me the question of those classes is predominantly moral and religious. The political aspect, important though it is, dwindles into insignificance compared to the moral and religious one.’ 53. Ranjan, op cit, p. 365. 54. It is extremely interesting here to note the almost opposite reading of fasts by Bilgrami. He believes ‘...it is easy to understand his habit of going on publicised fasts. It was a way of making visible some moral stance that could reach a larger public in the form of example rather than principles.’ There are other post-colonial scholars, such as Uday Mehta and Rajeshwari Sunder Rajan, with a similar reading. 55. G. Aloysius, Nationalism Without a Nation in India, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1997, p. 192. He also reminds of the famous statement by Gandhi that ‘we have to obtain not the salvation of the untouchables but ours by treating them as equals’. 56. Ibid., p. 182.

Gandhi, Dalits and Feminists: Recovering the Convergence 123 57. Kwame Anthony Appiah, ‘The Politics of Identity’, Daedalus, Fall, 2006, p. 20. 58. Ibid., pp. 20-21. 59. Anand Teltumbde, ‘Suicidal Divergence of the Left and Dalit Movements: Cause and Remedy’, (unpublished) paper presented at the national seminar on ‘Dalit Movements in South India’ organised by the Dalit Intellectual Collective and Madras University, Chennai. Some other Dalit intellectuals have also observed that, ‘those who masquerade as the champions of Dalit cause have been propagating with impunity their hideous perspective that serves nobody else but themselves. It is merely cunning that they deploy to use Dalit cause for personal ends. In fact, there is a complete lack of social vigilance among the common Dalit masses whose practical reason is used by these self-appointed Dalit as well as non-Dalit ‘messiahs’ ’ Gopal Guru (ed), Atrophy in Dalit Politics, Dalit Intellectual Collective book series, Mumbai, 2005, pp. 7-8.

3 Ambedkar, Gandhi and the Questions of Social Justice Basanta Kumar Mallik Babasaheb Ambedkar and Mahatma Gandhi were two well known and illustrious personalities of India who struggled to change the course of Indian history by way of restructuring the society and moulding the Indian nation. With the gathering momentum of the freedom movement, the socio-religious cleavages of Indian society urged the attention of the leaders of various deprived classes to demand equal share of power and opportunities in the independent India. Ambedkar led the down-trodden classes, the Panchamas of the Hindu social order who were untouchable to man and unapproachable to God. Ambedkar struggled throughout life for securing human dignity and political rights for them. He not only struggled for equality between men and men but also for equality between men and women. The problem of the ‘untouchables’ emerged as a vital national issue in 1930s and it concerned the contemporary nationalists, the British Government and particularly Gandhi and Ambedkar. They both worked for the reconstruction of the Indian social order, but their very purposes and their approaches were quite different. Gandhiji, a reformer wanted to bring out social reform from within by removing untouchability from Hindu society and Ambedkar, a true revolutionary, advocated its reconstruction by destroying the oppressive features of society. To him, caste was the root of all evils and therefore, caste had to be extinguished and belief in the sanctity of the Shastras eliminated for eradication of untouchability, development of the untouchables and maintenance of peaceful atmosphere in the Indian society.1 It would, however, be necessary to reappraise Ambedkar’s lasting contribution to the cause of social reform and to the making of modern India. Although the aims of Gandhi and Ambedkar were not contrasting, their means and strategies of overhauling the society were quite dichotomous to each other. Their very origin and socio-cultural set-up, in fact, moulded their thoughts and aspirations. Ambedkar who

Ambedkar, Gandhi and the Questions of Social Justice 125 belonged to the depressed Mahar community, faced severe economic hardship, and became a victim of oppressive social customs like caste and untouchability. The deprived and suffering life of the depressed class haunted Ambedkar throughout his life. As against this, Gandhi, an undepressed upper caste leader did not experience either economic deprivation or the humiliating sting of untouchability. But undoubtedly, he hated the practice of untouchability, and worked for its extinction from Hindu society. His deep hatred grew, so to speak, out of his moral concerns. It was hatred of the vicarious kind which forever lacked the edge of anger and urgency evident in Ambedkar.2 On the one hand, there was personal experience of practice of caste and untouchability and on the other, a sympathetic study and observation of the problem. While both Ambedkar and Gandhi were trained as lawyers, their attitudes to law as an instrument of social redress were sharply divergent. The former reposed full faith in it, and constantly to sharpen it, but the latter had not much use for it. Instead, he emphasised moral regeneration of individuals and societies undertaken on a voluntary basis. Gandhi remained firmly within the confines of Hinduism believing in the doctrine of rebirth and in the essential efficacy of the Chaturvarna system, whereas Ambedkar regarded untouchability to be the distilled by-product of the intrinsically iniquitous caste system.3 An acrimonious relationship developed between Ambedkar and Gandhi because of their sharp divergence over the issue of political right of Dalits at the Second Round Table Conference held in London in 1931. Ambedkar demanded separate electorates for the Dalits as well. It was also demanded by the Muslims, Sikhs, Anglo-Indians and Indian Christians. Gandhi opposed the demand vehemently and when the British Government did agree to recognize the demand of the depressed classes and grant them ‘separate electorates’, he undertook a ‘fast unto death’. At the end of discussions lasting five days, Ambedkar finally gave up the demand for ‘separate electorates’ and saved the life of Gandhi.4 In the bargain, he won 148 reserved seats in the provincial legislatures as against 71 allotted under the communal award.5 Years later Ambedkar was to deeply regret this agreement. Thus he made a scathing observation on it in 1945: There was nothing noble in that fast. It was a foul and filthy act. The fast was not for the benefit of the untouchables. It was against them and was the worst form of coercion against a helpless people to give up the constitutional safeguards of which they had become possessed under the Prime Minister’s award and agree to live on the mercy of the Hindus.6

It is very difficult to think now as to how the Dalits under the Poona Pact (Sept. 24, 1932) were representing themselves in the legislature,

126 Swaraj and the Reluctant State how they were putting up any fight and how well they were succeeding? If no seat had been reserved for the untouchables, the Hindus would have never cared to see that an untouchable was returned to the legislature. On the other hand, when the seats were reserved, the Hindus came forward to spoil the effect of the reservation by seeing to it that seats went to such untouchables, who agreed to be their slaves. Ambedkar makes a distinction between the Communal Award and the Poona Pact. It lies in the nature of electorates. To him, ‘Both provide for joint electorates’. The difference lies in this. Joint electorates of the Communal Award were intended to enable the untouchables to take part and influence the elections of the caste Hindu candidate while the joint electorate of the Poona Pact was intended to enable the caste Hindus to take part and influence the election of the untouchable candidates. This is the real difference between the two.”7 There can be no doubt that the real emancipation of the Dalits lay in making the Hindus dependent upon the suffrages of the Dalits. This was what the Communal Award did. To make the Dalits depend upon the suffrages of the Hindus was to make them the slaves of the Hindus which they already were. This is what the Poona Pact did. The Communal Award was intended to free the Dalits from the thralldom of the Hindus. The Poona Pact was designed to place them under the domination of Hindus. Thus there was a tragic end to the fight of the Dalits for political rights. Ambedkar made Gandhi solely responsible for this tragedy. He wrote in 1945: They (the untouchables) were completely under the control of the Congress party executive. They could not ask a question which it did not like. They could not move a resolution which it did not permit. They could not bring in legislation to which it objected. They could not vote as they chose or could not speak what they felt. They were as dumb as driven cattle.8

Characterising Gandhism as nothing but a reactionary philosophy from both social and economic points of view, and a return to animal life and antiquity, he warned his people to beware of Gandhism. Gandhi took up the programmes of social reform movement in 1932 after temporarily suspending his political struggle ‘because of the obstinate British determination to hold no political discussions with him.’ He coined the term Harijan (the children of God) for the untouchables, started an All India Anti-Untouchability League (September, 1932), and the weekly Harijan (January, 1933) and went on many Harijan tours.9 Like so many of Gandhi’s programmes the Haijan campaign was richly ambiguous in motives and significance. Radical nationalists like Jawaharlal Nehru felt it to be a harmful diversion from the main task of

Ambedkar, Gandhi and the Questions of Social Justice 127 anti-imperialist struggle. Malaviya who had been very close to Gandhi in the mid-1920s afterwards began to drift away. At the same time, the orthodox Hindus within the Congress increasingly disliked the new emphasis.10 From a more long-term point of view Harijan welfare work of Gandhians must have indirectly helped spread the message of nationalism down to the lowest and most oppressed sections of rural society. Like other Gandhian mass-movements, extension was combined with control, for Gandhi deliberately confined the Harijan campaign to limited social reform (opening of wells, roads and particularly temples plus humanitarian works), delinking it from any economic demands (though many Harijans were agricultural labourers) and also refusing to attack caste as a whole. He advised caution on inter-dining and intermarriage and went on defending the original Varnashram system,11 with the result that Ambedkar refused a message to the Harijan weekly on the ground that ‘nothing can emancipate the outcaste except the destruction of the caste system.’12 Gandhi looked into caste with a sense that it was a unique method of social organisation, adopted by the Hindus. The caste Hindus were able to get education, protection, and social control because of the caste system. To him, ‘the seeds of Swaraj are to be found in the caste system.... and inter-dining or inter-marriage are not necessary for promoting national unity.’13 He was firmly against the practice of untouchability and said, What I want, what I am living for and what I should delight in dying for, is the eradication of untouchability root and branch... It is, in order to achieve this, the dream of my life for the past fifty years.14

In India a man is not a scavenger because of his work. He is a scavenger because of his birth irrespective of the question whether he does scavenging or not. Gandhi preached that scavenging was a noble profession with the object of indulging those who refuse to engage in it. But why appeal to scavengers’ pride and vanity in order to induce him that scavenging is a noble profession and that he need not be ashamed of it. To Gandhi, untouchability was not humiliation of the untouchables but of the caste Hindus.15 To Ambedkar, ‘it was a cruel joke on the helpless classes.’16 Gandhi’s views were quite theoretical and he failed to understand that the socio-economic and political deprivation could not be ameliorated, if the untouchables felt proud of their slavery and presented their humiliative status and other disabilities. Ambedkar did not appreciate Gandhi’s method of changing status of the untouchables by calling them Harijans. To him, by calling the untouchables Harijans, Gandhi killed two birds with one stone. He

128 Swaraj and the Reluctant State observed that assimilation of the untouchables by the Shudras was not possible. He also held that this new name counteracted assimilation and made it impossible.17 Gandhi’s Harijan movement, as it was characterised, was nothing but a counter-active force to the reform movement, started by Ambedkar. It was a widespread complaint then that, ‘the temple entry movement was a political stunt of Gandhi and his followers to win over that new party to the Congress.’18 The result of the ‘Harijan Sevak Sangh’, an organisation started by Gandhi was not satisfying. In 1936, Ambedkar gave a clarion call for conversion of the untouchables in search of social equality which was considered by Gandhi a dangerous proposal. To him, the threat of conversion was a warning to the caste Hindus that if they did not wake up in time it might be too late.19 However, to understand the contrasting political phenomenon of India then it is necessary to analyse various aspects of the social perspectives of our nationalism. Since the Indian social order was stratified on the basis of the so called upper castes and lower castes, its phenomenon was also reflected on the surface of her nationalism. Indian nationalism in its beginning was an upper caste/class phenomenon reflecting the interests and ambitions of its members. Naturally when nationalists spoke in terms of national interest they certainly meant their own class interest. The sectarian character of nationalism persisted even after the upper castes’ movement developed into a truly mass-supported antiimperialist national liberation movement and it is this failure to change its basically pro-upper caste/class orientation that in due course helped the rise of new sectarian socio-political currents, running parallel to the mainstream national movement. The emergence of the Muslim League was the first outcome of this inevitable process of political splitting along the socio-communal fault lines. Ambedkar’s emergence on the Indian political scene in 1930s, commencing the advent of Dalit (the Scheduled Castes) politics, was just another manifestation of the same process. Ambedkar’s parallel socio-political movement posed no really significant threat to the overall domination of the traditional ruling class, yet it certainly exposed the hollowness of the nationalist claim to represent the whole nation.20 There was no evidence of the Hindu ruling class or reformers being really concerned about the social problem of the Dalits. Raja Ram Mohan Roy struggled for the abolition of the Sati and for the spread of English education in India. Gandhi’s conscience was stirred by the practice of racial discrimination in South Africa and he fought against that in his own characteristic way. But their conscience was not troubled by the practice of untouchability, which was indeed the most

Ambedkar, Gandhi and the Questions of Social Justice 129 condemnable crime against humanity. However, Gandhi was moved to make the cause of the untouchables his own only after Ambedkar’s political stance posed a veritable threat to the nationalist hegemony.21 He tried to eradicate untouchability by using a new formula of ‘religion and morality’ whereas Ambedkar struggled to raise the Dalits through political power and constitutional means. The religious discourse of Gandhi within the new political praxis, has been characterised in short, as religion for the lower caste masses and politics for the upper caste nationalists. This is considered hypocritical use of religion to cover up power pursuits (of Ambedkar) degrading both religion and politics.22 Gandhi’s concentration on different social agenda like the HinduMuslim unity, the removal of untouchability and Khadi seems to have a chronological pattern to it. The Khalifat years were full of activities around Hindu-Muslim unity. Gandhi spent the second half of the twenties boosting the Charakha and Khadi. After the Civil Disobedience Movement and the Round Table Conferences, the removal of untouchability became his obsession, and the forties saw him return to Hindu-Muslim unity because the emergence of different parallel forces made Gandhi understand that political nationalism would be futile without strengthening the very social base of it. It would be impossible to ignore Ambedkar’s role in the complex and prolonged process of interaction between the mainstream nationalists and their opponents which exercised considerable influence on the development of the Indian nationalism through 1930s and 1940s. True, Ambedkar did not participate in the freedom struggle under the banner of the Congress, but the socio-political movement carried out by him (from 1919 to 1956) cannot but be characterised as the freedom struggle which aimed to secure the ultimate goal of ‘freedom’ —i.e. freedom from both external and internal oppression and enslavement. It is also true that his movement helped to widen the internal scope of freedom thus making it really meaningful for millions of backward, oppressed and enslaved people including women as a whole. Anyway, there is a common impression in the minds of the postindependent generation that Gandhi was the principal saviour of the depressed classes of India. But when we consider the stature and achievement of Babasaheb Ambedkar as an intrepid warrior for socialeconomic liberation of the lowliest, especially the Dalits and the exploited Tribals, there is no doubt that without diminishing the tremendous conscientisation of the Hindu community by Gandhi visà-vis untouchability and Harijan debasement, Ambedkar’s ceaseless war, on behalf of, the Panchama proletariat, in its widest connotation, is incomparable. Justice V.R. Krishna Iyer has rightly assessed the

130 Swaraj and the Reluctant State contribution of Ambedkar to the liberation movement of the Dalits in the following words: There were many issues on which Gandhi and Ambedkar would not agree for the obvious reason that Gandhiji wanted reform to end injustice, while Ambedkar demanded rebellion for the annihilation of the caste system itself.... Ambedkar was a historic necessity, a dialectical demand if social democracy was to be India’s desideratum. It was and he became the symbol of social liberation of the depressed classes and womanhood... . Gandhiji’s Varna reform failed and Amebdkar’s rage against that vice was futile because conflicting remedies blunt the sword of breakthrough.... He was high enough, brave enough, talented enough to reach the top in a public and professional life, without sounding the conch of revolt. But he did it because that was the categoric call of his time to make his breed free.23

To fight the Indian National Congress, to challenge Mahatma Gandhi, to demand equal share of power for the depressed classes, and to draft legislations for womanhood’s equality needed the courage of an iconoclast, and Ambedkar was just that... Ambedkar was not a mere depressed class leader, but a defender of human rights, and of weaker and exploited people. So he organised educational institutions to raise the level of consciousness of the serf-like people. ‘Tell the slave that he is a slave and he will revolt against his slavery’, were Ambedkar’s pinching words for raising consciousness among the Dalits. So he started journals and organised strikes and demonstrations, and fought for women’s equality and labourers’ right to a fair deal.24 This ideological contrast was not of a purely personal nature. It reflected two very different temperaments and more significantly two radically opposed ‘world views’. Ambedkar’s world view, nourished by his knowledge of history, politics, economics, sociology and legal studies in the United Sates and Britain, was deeply rooted in enlightenment. To him, fraternity and equality were inextricably attached to liberty. He trusted the instruments of the state to bring about social and economic change. He preferred to be guided by reason rather than by faith. He placed the individual at the very centre of his new social order. Gandhi’s worldview on the other hand was rooted in morality. He changed the course of Hinduism or at least gave a new face to Hinduism, even when all the time he was saying that he was merely asserting its ancient values.25 He was indifferent to economic mechanisms and political arrangements. Unlike Ambedkar, he seemed to regard the community rather than the individual as the prime social unit. For much the same reason, he favoured the village against the city and by extension, put greater importance on agricultural sector rather than on industrial entrepreneurs. On the contrary, Ambedkar urged his

Ambedkar, Gandhi and the Questions of Social Justice 131 followers to desert the village to get rid of ostracism, make separate settlements, take to modern education and seek to organise themselves politically. The framing of the Constitution and restoring to the Dalits and Tribals their dignity figure as Ambedkar’s greatest triumphs. Moreover, it is important to bear in mind that it was Ambedkar’s political challenge which forced the nationalists to appreciate the national significance of the problem of the backward and depressed classes and to adopt certain measures which in due course, contributed towards widening and strengthening the base of ‘social justice’ in India. REFERENCES 1. Vasant Moon (ed), Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar Writings and Speeches, Vol. I, Department of Education, Government of Maharashtra, Bombay, (1979), pp. 68-69. 2. D. Padgaonkar, ‘Ambedkar and Gandhi: An Antagonism of Profound Significance’; The Times of India, New Delhi, April 14, 1990. 3. Ibid. 4. D. Keer, Dr Ambedkar: Life and Mission, Popular Prakashan, Bombay, Reprinted 1981, p. 214. 5. A.C. Pradhan, The Emergence of the Depressed Classes, Bookland International, Bhubaneswar, 1986, p. 186. 6. B.R. Ambedkar, What Congress and Gandhi Have Done to the Untouchables, Thacker & Co. Ltd., Bombay, 1945, p. 153. 7. Ibid., p. 160. 8. Ibid., p. 167. 9. M.S. Gore, The Social Context of an Ideology, Sage Publications Pvt. Ltd., New Delhi, 1993, pp. 139, 166, 195; See also Sumit Sarkar, Modern India (1885-1947), MacMillan, New Delhi, 1983, p. 320, and also Gail Omvedt, Dalits and the Democratic Revolution, Sage Publications India Pvt. Ltd., New Delhi, 1994, pp. 262-8. 10. S. Sarkar, op cit, (1983), p. 320. 11. B.R. Ambedkar, op cit, (1945), p. 260. 12. D. Keer, op cit, (1981), See also Sumit Sarkar op cit, (1983), p. 329. 13. B.R. Ambedkar, op cit, (1945), pp. 289-9. 14. Harijan, Dated 31. 10. 1936. 15. Idem. 16. B.R. Ambedkar, op cit, (1945), p. 276. 17. Ibid., p. 276. 18. M.K. Gandhi, My Soul’s Agony, 1933, pp. 142-3. 19. Harijan, Dated 21. 03. 1936. 20. S.M. Gaikwad, “Ambedkar and Indian Nationalism”, Economic & Political Weekly, Vol. XXXIII, No. 10, March 7-13, 1998, p. 516. 21. Idem.

132 Swaraj and the Reluctant State 22. G. Aloysius, Nationalism Without a Nation in India, Oxford University Press, Delhi, 1997, p. 182. 23. V.R. Krishna Iyer, Dr Ambedkar and the Dalit Future, B.R. Publishing Corporation, Delhi, 1990, p. 34. 24. Ibid., pp. 35-40. 25. Irfan Habib, Gandhi and the National Movement (Safdar Hashmi Commercial Lecture on December 30, 1994) SAHMAT, New Delhi, p. 5.

4 Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj1 in Popular Hindi Films* Coonoor Kripalani Gandhi as a Moral Force and Hind Swaraj as the Nation-state Gokhale described Gandhi’s strategy of Satyagraha, as a fight ‘with moral and spiritual weapons...He pits soul force against brute force; ...he pits faith against injustice: right against wrong.’2 It was the moral force of Gandhi that was so charismatic, the rightness of the cause as he defined it, that led so many unarmed men and women to struggle for independence from British rule. This together with Gandhi’s definition of Hind Swaraj—the founding of an ethical state—provides the blueprint for the Hindi film industry’s depictions of nationhood. Responding to violence among young Indian nationalists in London, particularly the assassination of Curzon Wylie, the ADC of Lord Morley, by Madanlal Dhingra in 1909, Gandhi was moved to pen this work. Gandhi’s views on this did not change throughout his life. He viewed Hind Swaraj as village-centred3—an idyllic society in which each individual would be liberated, i e, have attained his/her individual liberation, and so be an active contributor to the community, and collectively bring Swaraj to the nation. The underlying precepts of this notion of Swaraj were truth and non-violence, and a simple life embracing swadeshi (consumption of Indian-made goods) and Satyagraha (truth force).4 Although not in favour of mechanisation and heavy industry, Gandhi was at pains to say that he was not opposed to machinery that did not take away jobs. The essential elements of Swaraj to Gandhi included prohibition (non-consumption and sale of alcohol), the production of khadi (homespun cotton, for which the spinning of yarn as manual labour by all citizens he considered a must), and the removal of untouchability (i e, a civilisation in which all citizens are equal).5 This gave India a * Earlier published in Social Change, Vol. 43, No. 3, September 2012.

134 Swaraj and the Reluctant State modern concept of dharma, says Anthony Parel. It was a strong force, ‘a religion which underlies all religions.’6 This conceptualisation of Hind Swaraj—a village-centred, ethical state, where each individual is pure and liberated-is embedded in the nation’s psyche as the ideal state. And it is the iconic figure of Mahatma Gandhi that provides the bridge between the people/audiences and the idea of a ‘consensual nationalism’.7 These features are reiterated in popular Hindi films, further strengthening the notion of this ideal state. Apart from the state which has a vested interest in keeping alive the image and memory of the Mahatma, it is the image-builders and agents of popular culture that reinterpret, reinvigorate, reinvent, regenerate and retain in the national consciousness the iconic status of the Father of the Nation.8 It is probable that through this image-building exercise most Indians would more easily recognise Gandhi’s image, than recognise the text of his ideology.9 The Hindi film industry is one such agent. It plays a dual role in promoting the iconography, as well as contextualising Gandhi’s ideology through its films. Upholding The Ideal Nation State on Celluloid With its wide reach, the Hindi film industry has come to define all aspects of Indian culture.10 The language of Bollywood films creates a short-hand reference to certain concepts that are understood across the country, including creating a national culture with readily identifiable sounds and symbols that arouse patriotism and nationalism among citizens. It has become the ‘site of ideological production’,11 ‘assert (ing)... the state within the cinematic imagery’.12 Overtly patriotic films have a long history in India.13 From the 1940s onwards, a number of progressive nationalistic writers and actors belonging to the IPTA (Indian People’s Theatre Association) produced films with a social message. Influenced by communist and socialist ideologies that had currency at the time, as well as the prevailing nationalism that also reflected the Gandhian ideals of Hind Swaraj, many popular films of the 1950s had social themes that showed solidarity with workers and peasants, glorified village life and manual labour over mechanisation, and essayed the hollowness of feudalism, and other social ills. For instance, Achuut Kanya (Untouchable Girl, 1936), directed by Franz Osten, dealt with the complexities of casteism and untouchability, while V. Shantaram’s Duniya Na Mane (The Unexpected, 1937), showed the predicament of women. Mehboob Khan’s Mother India (1957) portrayed village life and glorified the self-sacrificing heroine Radha, who came to embody the ideal of Indian womanhood as well as became a metaphor for the nation.

Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj in Popular Hindi... 135 The struggle to tame nature through manual labour (the Gandhian ideal), is rewarded by mechanisation as the film closes with the inauguration of a dam (the Nehruvian ideal). In the same year, B.R. Chopra’s Naya Daur (The New Race, 1957) pitted manual labour against mechanisation. Other films that dealt with rural themes were K.A. Abbas’s Dharti ke Lal (Children of the Earth, 1946) and Do Bigha Zameen (Two Acres of Land, 1953). Both socialist and realist films, they depicted the vicious cycle of how peasants were dispossessed of their land by famine, feudal landlords and avaricious moneylenders, and fell into the trap of urban migration and misery. Communal farming was celebrated, in a salute to both socialist and Gandhian ideologies. A rural utopia—a cinematic Hind Swaraj—is idealised in popular Hindi films, particularly in the films of the 1950s. Scenes of village belles dancing with earthen pots on their heads, or carrying sheaves of harvested crops, were common. Soft early morning light or the red tones of dusk lent the scenes a glow, romanticising life in the village. Songs of harvest, or of seasons (particularly the rainy season), scenes of lovers running through lush fields or hitching a ride on a hay-laden bullockcart, all conjure an image of idyllic villages. It was only towards the late twentieth century and into the twenty-first century, that films developed a more urban-centred plot, characters and scenery. Yet we still see the abundance of produce and green fields in more recent films, e.g., Dilwale Dulhaniya Leh Jayenge (Bravehearts Will Win the Brides, 1995), VeerZara (2004), and Namastey London (Hello London, 2007). Raj Kapoor’s very popular (both at home and abroad) film Awaara (The Vagabond, 1951), focused on class distinctions, patriarchy and the privilege of power. The politics of the day commanded a certain Indianness, so perhaps as a counter-argument to Gandhi’s swadeshi, Raj Kapoor ‘s iconic tramp character sang ‘Mera Joota Hai Japani’14, a song that has been absorbed in the popular imagination. The lyrics are well-known,15: Mera Joota hai Japani Yeh Patloon Inglistani Sar pe lal topi Rusi Phir bhi dil hai Hindustani It translates as: My shoes are Japanese My pants are English The red cap on my head is Russian Even so, my heart is Indian No matter what his external image, this character is still Indian at heart. Depictions of national pride which swelled the hearts of Indians in the

136 Swaraj and the Reluctant State 1950s have continued through the decades. Innumerable films that followed depict the Indianness of the hero or heroine—if not in dress and image, then in their values. India’s First War of Independence in 1857 was the backdrop for Junoon (The Obsession, 1978) and The Rising: Ballad of Mangal Pandey (2005). Films like Shaheed (1948) and Andolan (Struggle, 1951), featuring the Quit India movement, retold the story of the nationalist struggle. In 2002 at least three different versions of Shaheed Bhagat Singh were produced, adding to three that already existed from previous decades.16 Lagaan ([Tax] Once Upon a Time in India, 2001), the blockbuster, tells a charming tale of how Indian peasants took on the imperial might of the British Raj through a cricket match. Although war was in no way espoused by Gandhi, he did condone the taking up of arms in defence under extreme threat. Wars have inspired Bollywood to make films around army themes—and India is always seen to be fighting a defensive battle, in Gandhian spirit. In 1964, following the 1962 border war with China, Chetan Anand produced Haqeeqat (Reality). Manoj Kumar’s Upkaar (Good Deed, l967) which ranks among the nation’s top 10 favourite patriotic films,17 picturised the ‘Jai Jawan, Jai Kisan’ slogan of its time in its peasant/ soldier images, and gave the nation the rousing popular song, ‘Mere desh ki dharti’ (The Soil of My Land). The 50th year of Indian Independence (1997), gave us Border, based on the India-Pakistan war of 1971. After the Kargil War we had Kargil-LOC (2003), Lakshya (Target, 2004), and Khakee (2004), as well as Deewar; Let’s Bring Our Heroes Home (The Wall: Let’s Bring Our Heroes Home, 2004, which harked back to the IndiaPakistan War of 1971), celebrating the valour of the army as protectors of the nation. Gandhi was not in favour of partition, and for many Indians on either side of the divide, partition had been unthinkable. So the theme of partition of the country was perhaps too painful to explore on celluloid in the early years, but with sufficient lapse in time, the industry came round to doing so. The films on partition generally depict people trying to unite—be they lovers or family members-symbolic of the division of the country. After the intensely poignant Garam Hawa (Hot Winds) of 1973, which depicted the anguish, bewilderment, abandonment and sense of displacement of Muslims who remained in India, there was a long gap. Govind Nihalani’s Tamas (Darkness), followed 15 years later as a TV series, preceding Shyam Benegal’s Mammo (1994), a depiction of the irrationality of artificially created borders. Raj Kapoor was a pioneer in making the film Henna (1991), which was completed posthumously by his son Randhir Kapoor. It was a cross-border love story between an Indian man and a Pakistani girl

Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj in Popular Hindi... 137 (played by a Pakistani actress). Deepa Mehta’s Earth (1998), picturized both the fate of the elites and the working classes at the hands of the mobs. Gadar—Ek Prem Katha (Revolution—A Love Story, 2001), Pinjar (Caged, 2003) and Veer-Zara (2004) followed—but only in the 21st century. In Veer-Zara, the beauty of the land is extolled in song—Aisa Des Hai Mera—as Veer shows Zara around his country, through green fields, running streams and mountains. The films generally convey the secular nature of India and show the freedom of Muslims to live and worship. Terrorism, i.e., violence, no matter how noble its aims, was anathema to Gandhi. For Gandhi, the means were as important as the ends. Violence begets violence, Gandhi believed, and to achieve Swaraj by violence would mean establishing a violent state. This thinking underpins the portrayal of terrorism in films such as Roja (1992), Dil Se (From the Heart, 1998), Mission Kashmir (2000), Maachis (Matchstick, 1999), Hu TuTu (1999) and Sarfarosh (Martyr, 1999).18 While the terrorists are viewed sympathetically, the films do not in any way condone or endorse calls for separatism or autonomy. They do, however, explain that repression, persecution and injustice by the state authorities provoke youth to violent action. Collectively, the films also convey the message that a life devoted to terror cannot find happiness and courts certain death, while tolerance and secularist values are upheld as extremely desirable by these films. The entity of India as a nation-state is upheld as one to be protected, and the virtue of the motherland is seen in maintaining this as the traditional and desired standard of nationhood. Religious tolerance and harmony are repeatedly invoked, with an emphasis on the wrongness of violence in the name of religion. In Roja and the more recent A Wednesday (2008), citizens demand the state to be proactive in protecting them from terrorism, while the epigraph of Black Friday (2004), a film that investigates the Mumbai blasts of 1993 proclaims Gandhi’s words, ‘An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.’ The demands shown in these films are based on an expectation that the state must be an ethical one and must live up to its responsibilities. But what if the state does not? In the 1970s and 80s, when the state was perceived as having failed its citizens and wracked by corruption, the angry young men genre of films became popular. Films like Zanjeer (Chains, 1973), Deewar (The Wall, 1975) and Coolie (1983) showed ordinary citizens forced to take to a life of crime due to lack of jobs. Without a proactive state, individuals (the angry young men) are shown taking independent action to correct wrongs. This type of voluntarism flows logically form Gandhi’s ideas of individuals liberating themselves—attaining Swaraj on an individual basis—although it is

138 Swaraj and the Reluctant State unlikely that he would have supported the violent actions of the angry young men. So it is the absence of Gandhi and the ethical state that created conditions for the angry young men. While the films mentioned above are premised on depictions of the nation state as an utopian Hind Swaraj, an overarching Gandhian philosophy lends political legitimacy to many other films. For example, Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s, Namak Haram (The Ungrateful; 1973) portrays a middle-class martyr functioning as a catalyst of reform; and asserts that the middle class can neutralize class conflict. Writes Madhav Prasad, ‘Gandhi is the prototype for this magnetic point, whose charismatic power draws the spectator into the fiction of a surrogate resolution.’19 Manmohan Desai’s immensely popular Amar Akbar Anthony (1977), tells the story of three brothers who get separated from each other. Each is raised in a different religion—affirming the plurality of secular India. The date they get separated is August 15, the day India gained independence, a throwback to the nation’s partition, foregrounded by the iconography of Gandhi.20 The large statue is inscribed with the words, ahimsa parama dharma (non-violence is the supreme dharma). It is here that the brothers got separated and here where the family will reunite. Films that use Gandhian ideology obviously are Damini (Lightning, 1993) and Cheeni Kum (The Sugar’s Not Enough, 2007). Director Rajkumar Santoshi’s Damini is a truthful girl. Having witnessed a heinous crime, she is determined to inform the authorities and ensure justice is carried out against the perpetrators, despite being personally ostracised. This is another example of a citizen calling for the assertion of the state, and compelling it to exercise its authority on moral grounds. ‘In the epigraph, Gandhi speaks of the conscience as an authority that transcends all human laws.’21 White Lands (2005) is the direct result of Gandhi’s Salt March to Dandi. Shot in the salt fields of Saurashtra, it tells of the trials and tribulations of salt workers. In the more recent Cheeni Kum, Nina’s father refuses her permission to marry an older man. In the ensuing stand-off between father and daughter, he stages a hunger strike like Gandhi’s fasts, winning respect and sympathy from his friends and neighbours. This form of protest is a familiar one to Indian audiences, exemplary in using Gandhi’s non-violent strategy in family matters. Films On Gandhi Despite the enormous influence of Gandhi’s political philosophy on popular films, feature films on Gandhi per se have been scarce (apart from some official documentaries).22 The genre of biopics in Indian film is limited, there being only a handful of biopics on India’s national

Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj in Popular Hindi... 139 leaders. There is Dr Kotnis ki Amar Kahani (The lmmortal Story of Dr Kotnis, 1946)—the story of the valiant Dr Kotnis who went to China as part of a medical team to fight alongside the Chinese against the Japanese invasion—by V. Shantaram, Jhansi Ki Rani (The Rani of Jhansi, 1953) directed by Sohrab Modi, Sardar (1993) based on the life of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, directed by Ketan Mehta, Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar (2000) directed by Dr Jabbar Patel, Ved Rahi’s Veer Savarkar (2001), and Shyam Benegal’s Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose: India’s Forgotten Hero (2005). Amongst these, the Gandhi character serves as a foil for the main protagonist. For instance, in Sardar, the depiction of Mahatma Gandhi as the mentor of Vallabhbhai Patel, lends Patel political legitimacy and clout. He is shown as being counselled by the Mahatma as well as being the one to make him accept partition as the precondition to India’s independence. Gandhi is seen here as bringing together the talents of Nehru and Patel in the service of the nation, rather than allowing their rivalry to get in the way. In contrast, Gandhi in Veer Savarkar is portrayed as weak and unable to defend his ideology. Savarkar debunks non-violence as an ineffective strategy, in contrast to the robustness of his own belief in violence. Gandhi’s support of the caste system is shown as an example of his backward thinking, without any reference at all to Gandhi’s work among the Harijans (Children of God) as he called them or the fact that he often chose to live in Harijan colonies. Gandhi as a popular theme for feature films only emerged in the mid-1990s, when the following films appeared: The Making of the Mahatma (1996) Director: Shyam Benegal Hey Ram (2000) Director: Kamal Haasan Maine Gandhi ko Nahin Mara (2005) Director: Jahnu Barua Lage Raho Munna Bhai (2006) Director: Raj Kumar Hirani Gandhi, My Father (2007) Director: Feroz Abbas Khan Gandhi (1982) These films were preceded by Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi (1982). It had taken three and a half decades after Gandhi’s death for a major feature film to be made on Gandhi. It came, however, from the famous British director, Richard Attenborough. Internationally acclaimed,

140 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Attenborough’s Gandhi, and Oscar winner, including one for Best Film, was billed as: A WORLD EVENT It took one remarkable man to defeat the British Empire and free a nation of 350 million people. His goal was freedom for India. His strategy was peace. His weapon was his humanity. An enormous success, the film brought Gandhi’s principles of truth and non-violence not only to an international audience, but revived his memory in a generation of Indians that had never known him. It made Indians proud. It seemed their national hero, the Father of the Nation, rather than Attenborough, was being internationally acclaimed. Sheila Dhar relates the elation of Mr Mohan Rao, Deputy Chief of the Publications Division, upon his first reading of the film-script: What a script! What a beautiful thing! Hai, hai, hai! On our own Gandhi!... some white man has written like this on our Gandhi, and you idle people are just walking about shamelessly! But it is okay. So what if he is white. I am broadminded. I have no complex. At least someone has written. I am so happy.23

Attenborough had the sensitivity to seek the validity of the script with Prof K.S. Swaminathan, a Gandhi scholar working at the Publications Division of the Ministry of Information & Broadcasting, whose job it was to oversee the publication of The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi. Sheila Dhar provides a delightful account of Attenborough’s quest for this and permission to film in India.24 He also worked with a number of talented Indian crew: lensmen, actors and costume designers.25 With years of research of Gandhi’s original speeches and writings under his belt, Attenborough picturised Gandhi’s heroic fight using his own words in the film script. This film created a prototype of biopics on Gandhi that were to follow in the coming years. The Making of The Mahatma (1996) More than a decade after this film, India’s auteur director, Shyam Benegal released his The Making of the Mahatma (1996). Produced under the auspices of the NFDC of India in collaboration with the South African Broadcasting Corporation, this film was shown mainly at film festivals around the world. It was specially billed as the early life of Gandhi and his years in South Africa that led up to his becoming the Mahatma— the formative years that Attenborough’s film Gandhi did not cover. Although based on Fatima Meer’s biography, An Apprenticeship of the

Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj in Popular Hindi... 141 Mahatma, the film so closely follows Gandhi’s memoirs and his autobiography 26 , that it has ‘establish[ed] Benegal as an arch commentator and chronicler of history.’27 The Making of the Mahatma almost has the pace of a documentary. It is instructive on Gandhi’s early years, and especially on his work in South Africa. It was there that he was subjected to racial discrimination, there that he developed his tremendous organisational skills, there that he began to live commune-style in Phoenix and at Tolstoy Farm, there that he developed his strategy of Satyagraha, there that his loyalty to the Empire was tested (during the Boer War), and there that he faced the deceit of General Smuts and later Lord Elgin—a severe lesson in political negotiation. It was in South Africa too, that Gandhi’s views on his personal life began to crystallise. It was here that he brought home to live various friends and workers of varying castes and races, severely testing his wife, Kasturba. They had fierce confrontations, with Gandhi even threatening to throw her out of the house if she did not conform to his beliefs and clean the chamber pots of the guests. Reluctantly, Kasturba agreed to live by her husband’s beliefs. Ultimately they lived communestyle; their sons were home-schooled (but Gandhi had little time to take up their education seriously), which led to unhappy conflicts with his eldest son, Hari.28 Benegal gives us a touching scene, where Hari pleads with his father to send him to study law in England, but in his efforts to show no partiality to his own family, Gandhi decided to pass this opportunity on to another boy. Hari’s disappointment with his father’s decision, Gandhi’s resolve to devote his life and earnings to the community, to become a brahmachari (celibate), and his further confrontations with Kasturba over donating her jewellery and gifts to a Trust for the looming political fight, are all well-portrayed. These seemingly basic and well-known facts are esoteric and hardly known to the average Indian citizen. Benegal himself confesses to not knowing much of Gandhi’s life pre-1914, till he read Meer’s biography, which was banned in the apartheid years.29 In fact, it was Gandhi’s actions in South Africa, in addition to his non-violent leadership of India’s struggle for independence that so inspired anti-apartheid leader, Nelson Mandela, in South Africa, and civil rights leader, Martin Luther King Jr, in the US, to achieve their goals through non-violence and civil disobedience, and the Dalai Lama, who continues to work for the rights of the Tibetan people. In contrast to the Gandhi we saw at the opening of the film, dressed as a western gentleman, the film ends with Gandhi sailing back to India with his family, head shaved and wearing Indian garb, giving us a

142 Swaraj and the Reluctant State glimpse of the future Gandhi: the man who would become a Mahatma, and fight to rid his motherland of British colonialism. Lage Raho Munna Bhai (2006) In 2006, the blockbuster, Lage Raho Munna Bhai (LRMB, Keep at it Munna Bhai), was released. Munna Bhai, formally known as Murli Prasad Sharma, smitten by the radio jockey, Jahnvi, contrives to get into her studio to meet her. But first Murli participates in a call-in quiz about Gandhi and wins by cheating. Having kidnapped a professor of history and other Gandhi experts, he forces the answers out of them. The telling thing about this quiz is that all the questions are so simple: 1. By what name did Gandhi’s friends in South Africa address him? 2. How many children did Gandhi have and what are their names? 3. What weapons did Gandhi have that Hitler did not? 4. At what age did Gandhi’s bride marry him? So were the questions put to Murli at the Press Conference later in the film (of which Murli could only answer the first two): 1. What was Gandhi’s first name? 2. What was Gandhi’s father’s name? 3. What was Gandhi’s mother’s name? 4. Who gave Gandhi the title of ‘Mahatma’? 5. What was the name of Gandhi’s Ashram in South Africa? While some viewers may think these scenes were dumbed down for comic effect—after all these are facts about Gandhi that everyone should know—in fact, many viewers actually did not know!! Rajkumar Hirani, the script writer, had this to say when interviewed on the matter: [Q] So IS IT TRUE THAT A CHAI-WALLAH WASN’T AWARE OF WHO MAHATMA GANDHI WAS? [Hirani] Yes, it happened on the first day of the music recording. The boy was curious, he was a big Munnabhai fan and kept asking the name of the film. The first working title was ‘Munnabhai Meets Mahatma Gandhi,’ and Shantanu Moitra, (the music director) told him. So he said, ‘Munnabhai to theek hai, yeh Mahatma Gandhi kaun hai?’ (‘Munnabhai is fine, but who is this Mahatma Gandhi?’) So this is the sad state of affairs today. I was shocked. And it’s not just the chai-wallah. A few days ago on TV several politicians were asked India-related questions on the news channels, and I can’t believe a lot of them didn’t know October 2 is Gandhiji’s birthday! Many didn’t know his first name. They kept saying, ‘Whats in a name, we respect

Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj in Popular Hindi... 143 his ideals,’ but come on! How can you not know his name? But this film is not trying to preach at all. It is not a boring film.30 The fact that young Indians today don’t know these basic facts about Mahatma Gandhi is shocking, and this film aims to inform and educate audiences in its jocular and colloquial manner. The combination of a loveable rascal turning over a new leaf through interaction with the revered Father of the Nation made for the astounding success of the film. In the pursuit of his lady-love, Munna Bhai does not reveal his real identity. Posing as a Gandhi scholar and professor, he is forced to read up on Gandhi and educate himself somewhat on Gandhi’s philosophy. As and when Munna Bhai is confronted with troublesome issues, he reaches conscientious decisions through ‘Gandhigiri’ (Gandhism)—as opposed to goondabaazi (gangsterism)—in which he is helped by ‘visitations’ from Gandhi. But only Munna Bhai sees Gandhi, he is invisible to others. During these visions, Munna’s soul-searching leads him to morally upright conclusions in the most simplistic manner. Through the visitations, he also learns to use novel non-violent forms of protest and force, in contrast to his usual strong-arm tactics. In one sense LRMB portrays Gandhi as the conscience of Munna Bhai. It also sends the message that Gandhi’s ideology still works and that Satyagraha and Ahimsa can be practised by ordinary citizens, that their daily lives can be lived by his tenets of truth and non-violence, and that Gandhi’s ideology needs to be studied and practised to make a difference. It also suggests that the spirit of Gandhi is etched so deeply in the nation’s consciousness, and that his ideology is so convincing, that people may begin to hallucinate and see visions of Gandhi. In the Indian cultural context, where communion with the divine is perceived in such terms, this is a very suggestive message. The Gandhi character informs the public through Munna Bhai that there is no point in venerating him through his statues and photographs that hang in all government offices, but should revere him in their hearts. Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara (2005) And Hey Ram (2000) Clearly audiences appreciated the light-hearted and jocular way LRMB brought Gandhi to them, but some critics felt that this representation trivialised Gandhi and what the man stood for. ‘Gandhian philosophy is serious business and Lage Raho Munnabhai is not the right way to show it’, said Jahnu Barua,31 the director of the 2005 film, Maine Gandhi ko Nahin Mara. Serious as it is, nevertheless Barua’s film shares with LRMB the idea that Gandhi is deeply etched in the nation’s consciousness. Tracing the steady decline of a well-respected and distinguished

144 Swaraj and the Reluctant State professor, Uttam Chaudhuri, due to Alzheimer’s, this film depicts with all possible pathos his forgetfulness, quirks and strange phobias. The professor ‘s daughter, Trisha, becomes his primary caregiver, and in the process loses both her job and her fiance. The pressure on Trisha and the household, are all emotionally charged. When the patient wanders off one day, the all-day hunt ends when the professor is found dishevelled and confused, sleeping at the feet of the statue of Mahatma Gandhi in the park. When rescued, he keeps asking for forgiveness and repeatedly saying, “Maine Gandhi ko nahin mara (I did not kill Gandhi).” Ultimately, the psychiatrist that his daughter consults for her father prises out of the professor a childhood memory. It goes back to the day he accidentally ‘shot’ a picture of Gandhi with red colour. It happened to coincide with the very day that Gandhi was assassinated. Black and white flashbacks tell us that his father viewed it as an omen and never forgave him, as if somehow Gandhi’s assassination was the fault of the young Uttam. Now in his dotage, the professor ‘s feeble mind is seeking vindication. While he no longer remembers the books he wrote and published, the date and time of Gandhi’s assassination, January 30, 5:17 pm, cannot be erased from his mind. With the help of the medical profession, and the elaborate staging of a court acquittal, the family works to ease the sick mind of the professor. In the dramatic court scene, again the message is repeated: the professor was strong in ‘jail’ through the moral support he got from Gandhi. He feels Gandhi has been forgotten; Gandhi lives not in the hearts of people, but in the photos of him hanging in government offices. This is a nation corrupted, a nation that does not value the freedom that Gandhi won for it. The film ends on the note, Himmat kame valon ki haar nahi hoti (The courageous are never defeated). It is useful to consider this film with Kamal Hassan’s Hey Ram (2000). The 89-year-old Saketh Ram lies on his death-bed, as memories of his life replay themselves. As a young archaeologist in Karachi, he and his good friend, Amjad Ali Khan, were both against partition and the creation of Pakistan. He remembers the rape and slaying of his wife at the hands of Muslim mobs in Calcutta, as a result of Jinnah ‘s call for Direct Action Day. In revenge, Saketh Ram went on a rampage and killed those responsible for killing his wife. In his frenzied state, he fell victim to the ideology of extremist Hindu groups who wished to assassinate Gandhi. They believed Gandhi to be responsible for India’s partition and perceived him to be partial to Muslims. Saketh Ram was willing to carry out this mission. Although Saketh Ram remarried, he remained wedded to this cause, till further experiences and reconnecting with Amjad Ali Khan, he realised that India would be destroyed without Gandhi. Here the film’s

Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj in Popular Hindi... 145 secular credo is upheld, as it is the Muslim friend who puts him on the right track. Seeking forgiveness, Saketh Ram turned up at Gandhi’s prayer meeting, where Gandhi was assassinated. From this point on he lived his life according to Gandhian principles, but obviously remained haunted by the turn of events—till his dying day. Hey Ram addresses other issues of communal violence in contemporary Indian society—a feature that is seen on a continuum since Saketh Ram’s youth during the 1940s, through its escalation during Partition, and its continuation into the present day—something Gandhi strove against all his life. Both these films, though coming from the perspective of two different directors, depict the deep psychological impact that Gandhi had on ordinary citizens of the time. Both Professor Chaudhuri in Maine Gandhi ko Nahin Mara and Saketh Ram in Hey Ram relive the trauma they felt vis-a-vis Gandhi the public figure, towards the end of their lives. The emotional scarring from perceived events turned out to be the most significant experiences of their lives and required closure before they were laid to rest. That Gandhi so deeply affected the mindset and touched the psyche of citizens is testimony to his awesome charisma, and explains in large part the success of his leadership. Gandhi, My Father (2007) The latest Gandhi film came to us in 2007, produced by Anil Kapoor. Gandhi, My Father, directed by Feroz Abbas Khan, has the tag lines: To the People... he was a Father to his Son... he was a Father he never had. and One family’s tragedy was the price of the nation’s freedom. This film explores the difficult relationship Gandhi had with his eldest son, Harilal. Apparently this was not known to the general public, as the comments below from different reviewers suggest, and comes somewhat as a revelation. ‘We have always revered this tiny man in a dhoti for the freedom he bestowed upon us and the exemplary way in which he fought for it. But most of us didn’t stop to think that there was more to Gandhi than what he did for us. We didn’t realise that his world went beyond fighting for us, because it ‘s all we’ve ever known,’ says Aly Kassam.32 Anil Sinanan wrote: Much is known about Gandhi’s non-violent ideals and the ‘Quit India’ movement he founded which was directly responsible for the British grant

146 Swaraj and the Reluctant State of independence to India and the creation of Pakistan. Little is known about his family life.33

A similar point is made by Manish Gajjar, BBC Bollywood Correspondent: Everyone knows about Mahatma Gandhi’s role in the Indian freedom movement and as a social reformer. ‘But there are large gaps in our knowledge of Gandhi as a person and a family man, particularly the turbulent relationship with Harilal, his eldest son.’34 Although Gandhi himself wrote about it quite publicly at the time, and the correspondence between father and son is readily available for those interested to see, Gandhi’s personal life is scarcely mentioned in official documents and histories in India. Rather than viewing this as an expose, Indian audiences accepted Gandhi’s human frailties and appreciated his personal sacrifice in the service of the nation. The film depicts Harilal’s closeness to his mother and the special bond between them—in a sense both were victims of Gandhi’s tyranny within the family, as he demanded that his wife and children live by his ideology whether they agreed to it or not. Harilal was particularly denied his father’s attentions, as Gandhi was in South Africa for the first three years of his life. As Gandhi was honing his ideas about society and childrearing, Harilal’s education took a backseat. He tried to please his father by participating in the Satyagraha movement in South Africa, and there were times when he made his father proud. But Gandhi’s refusal to send him for formal education—Gandhi remained unmoved even when Kasturba beseeched him to do this for his son—defeated the young Harilal. He left Gandhi’s ashram in South Africa, but his three failed attempts to matriculate were humiliating, as he had to turn to his father for support once again. Further, Gandhi’s demands of celibacy for his sons, and his refusal to allow Harilal’s marriage, were simply unreasonable and made for the tragedy that was to unfold. In this portrayal, Harilal is seen sympathetically. He married in India with the blessings of his uncle and other family elders, but against the wishes of his father. The Mahatma was quite unforgiving on this matter and didn’t do much to help Harilal to be financially independent to support his growing family. With his lack of education, Harilal’s business ventures were simplistic and desperate. He fell prey to Gandhi’s foes, and opportunists who wished to cash in on his name. Harilal ‘s life had all the stereotypical elements of failure: his wife took the children and went back to her family, and she died shortly thereafter. Harilal became an alcoholic, and in his search for his own identity, converted to Islam and then converted back to Hinduism again. Though Gandhi had publicly disowned his son in the pages of his journals, and warned businessmen not to tie up business ventures with Harilal on his father’s account, still Harilal’s actions were fodder for the media

Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj in Popular Hindi... 147 and an embarrassment for the Mahatma. Feroz Khan treats his subject with sensitivity and the pathos of a grown Hari returning time and again to connect and renew the bond with his mother is painful to watch. Harilal died destitute—a drunken pauper, whose claims to being the son of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi were treated as the ravings of a delusionary lunatic. Conclusion—Reviving Gandhi in The National Conscience The popular film industry in India has a long history of producing socially conscious films with a political subtext that upholds nationalist ideals. These nationalist ideals are dovetailed with various aspects of Gandhi’s Hind Swaraj, as they were greatly enriched by his ideological contributions. It has been shown that films with a social message had great currency in the 1950s, and over the decades, films on the nationalist struggle, partition, war, terrorism, and even family movies, demanded the state assert itself and intervene on behalf of its citizens. To this extent, the state is viewed as the ultimate authority and the protector, and there is a recognition of its innate justness. So it is the responsibility of the state to see to equitable distribution of resources, and ensure that justice is meted out fairly. These ideological underpinnings are rooted in the consciousness of the Indian viewer, and form the subtext of a vast number of popular films. The idyllic village that is governed by the ideals of Hind Swaraj remains a desirable utopia in the public mind, as does the noble individual who may be seen as pure and liberated. But Gandhi himself has been lost for many decades, although his image is very much in the public eye, through statues in parks and photographs in public buildings. The films under discussion have revived his memory in the popular imagination, and exposed in the popular media details of his private life that for years have been swept under the carpet. Lage Raho Munna Bhai, in its earthy and irreverent way, demonstrates how to use Gandhian strategy in daily life and mundane problems. The film informs a new generation of the basic tenets of Gandhi’s philosophy, while subtly showing that it can be practised properly only with knowledge of Gandhi’s teachings. Munna Bhai was able to answer questions about Gandhi and come up with strategies to address problems through the knowledge he’d gained by studying Gandhi’s works. Depicting Gandhism through the earthiness of Munna Bhai’s character and language provide the film its appeal. Both this light-hearted take on Gandhi’s ideology and the serious take in Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara, give the same message: lip service to Gandhi is not enough. Venerating him through statues in the park

148 Swaraj and the Reluctant State and portraits in public offices is not as important as taking him into one’s heart, living by his tenets and applying his philosophy to one’s daily actions. Results will be garnered through tolerance, truth and nonviolence. The films in this sense are superficial: they do not address other facets of Gandhi’s ideology of non-discrimination, resistance to heavy industry, value of individual labour, rural upliftment, social reconstruction and so forth. However, the contrast of conducting one’s personal affairs through ‘Gandhigiri’ (the practice of Gandhism) as opposed to ‘goondabaazi’ (gangsterism) is a lesson well shown. Together with Hey Ram, the film, Maine Gandhi ko Nahin Mara, brings home to viewers, how deeply Gandhi touched the lives and psyche of Indians, even if they only knew him as a public figure. But with the passing decades, the average Indian seems to have only a superficial knowledge-that Mahatma Gandhi was the Father of the Nation and that he brought freedom from the British. Each of these five films informs contemporary audiences about different aspects of Gandhi. For many, Gandhi My Father had some shocking revelations. Yet the reaction of viewers and reviewers show that audiences were sympathetic to the human frailties of the Mahatma. Gandhi ‘s insistence on his family following his code of conduct that resulted in conflicts with the misguided Harilal are understood as necessary. There are likely some other no-go areas of Gandhi’s personal life, such as his struggle with celibacy, that film-makers, at least in India, will find difficult to make in the near future. In this sense, making Gandhi, My Father, is already a bold step. That the film industry has taken the lead to popularise Gandhi to a new generation is significant. The bio-pics that aim to show Gandhi the man, as opposed to the Mahatma, are a departure from the norm. Far from knocking him off his pedestal, for many Indians it is a reaffirmation of the sacrifices Gandhi made in his personal life for the life of the nation. Though the films provide just a distillation of one or two concepts of Gandhi’s ideology, they serve to reconnect Gandhi with the Indian public, and revive his memory as Father of the Nation and his concept of a Hind Swaraj. They show how Gandhi’s principles of truth and ahimsa can be practised in private life, and how the strategy of Satyagraha can be employed i n personal and family matters. FILMOGRAPHY Gandhi (1982) Director: Richard Attenborough Starring: Ben Kingsley, Candice Bergen, John Gielgud, John Mills, Martin Sheen, Rohini Hattangadi, Roshan Seth, Alyque Padamsee, Amrish Puri, Saeed Jaffrey, Om Puri

Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj in Popular Hindi... 149 Gandhi, My Father (2007) Director: Feroz Abbas Khan Starring: Akshaye Khanna, Darshan Jariwala, Shefali Shetty, Bhumika Chawla Hey Ram (2000) Director: Kamal Hassan Starring: Kamal Hassan, Rani Mukherji, Shah Rukh Khan, Naseerudin Shah, Hema Malini Lage Raho Munna Bhai (Keep at it, Munna Bhai ; 2006) Director: Vidhu Vinod Chopra Starring: Sanjay Dutt, Arshad Warsi, Vidya Balan Maine Gandhi ko Nahin Mara (I Did Not Kill Gandhi; 2005) Director: Jahnu Barua Starring: Anupam Kher, Urmila Matondkar, Parvin Dabas, Rajit Kapoor The Making of the Mahatma (1996) Director: Shyam Benegal Starring: Rajit Kapoor, Pallavi Joshi NOTES 1. M.K. Gandhi, Hind Swaraj or Indian Home Rule (Ahmedabad: Navajivan Publishing House, 1938, 1982 reprint), p. 110. 2. Gokhale quoted in Coonoor Kripalani’s, ‘A Comparative Study of the Political Concepts of M.K. Gandhi and Mao Zedong, 1919-1949’, M. Phil Thesis, University of Hong Kong, November 1986, p. 215. 3. See Gandhi’s letter to Nehru, reproduced in Anthony Parel, Hind Swaraj and Other Writings by Gandhi (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 150-1. 4. Rajmohan Gandhi, Mohandas: A True Story of a Man, His People and an Empire (New Delhi, Penguin Books, 2006), p. 153. 5. Nirmal Kumar Bose, Studies in Gandhism (Ahmedabad: Navajivan Publishing House, 1972), p. 184. 6. Parel, op cit, p. 6. 7. This phrase is used by Ashis Nandy, to explain the people’s acceptance of the nation-state to be the organizing principle of Indian political life. See Gautam Kundu, ‘Satyajit Ray, Rabindranath Tagore, and The Home and the World: Indian Nationalist History and Colonial/Postcolonial Perspectives in Film and Fiction’, in Asian Cinema, Spring 1998, 9. 2:54. 8. See Gayatri Sinha, ‘Bapu’, in Saffronart’s catalogue of an art show in London, BAPU, January 15-February 15, 2009, pp. 3-4. 9. Sumathi Ramaswamy in ibid., p. 35. 10. See the cover story, ‘Bole to...Bollywood’, Outlook Weekly, October 13, 2008, pp. 84-90.

150 Swaraj and the Reluctant State 11. M. Madhav Prasad, Ideology of the Hindi Film: A Historical Construction (Delhi, Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 9. 12. See Prasad’s essay, ‘Towards Real Subsumption?’ in which he analyses Damini and Roja in this context... in Ibid., p. 233. 13. In this context, see Gautam Kaul, Cinema and the Indian Freedom Struggle (New Delhi: Sterling Publishers Pvt. Ltd.), p. 251. 14. From the 1955 film, Shree 420 (Director: Raj Kapoor). 15. The original film-clip of the song and several remixes can be easily found on You Tube. 16. 2002 saw at least three productions on Bhagat Singh, all of which flopped. There were: Rajkumar Santoshi’s The Legend of Bhagat Singh, starring Ajay Devgan, 23 March 1931: Shaheed, directed by Guddu Dhanoa in which Bobby Deol played the role of Bhagat Singh, and Shaheed-E-Azam Bhagat Singh, with Sonu Sood in the lead. These were in addition to three earlier versions: Shaheed-E-Azam Bhagat Singh (1954) directed by Jagdish Gautam, with Prem Adeeb, and Manoj Kumar’s famous Shaheed (1965), although Shammi Kapoor had essayed this role two years earlier (1963) in Shaheed Bhagat Singh. 17. ‘Bollywood Special-60 Years of Patriotic Cinema,’ Outlook Weekly, May 21, 2007, p. 43. 18. For a fuller discussion, see my earlier work, Coonoor Kripalani, ‘The Making of a Terrorist: through the Lens of Hollywood,’ in Education About Asia, fall 2004, 9:2. 64-69. 19. M. Prasad, ‘Middle Class Cinema’, in Ideology of the Hindi Film, p. 170. 20. Vijay Misra, Bollywood Cinema: Temples of Desire (New York & London: Routledge, 2002), p. 176. 21. Prasad, op cit, p. 228. 22. For example, Vithalbhai Jhaveri ‘s landmark 1968 documentary, Mahatma— Life of Gandhi of 1869-1948 (made with the assistance of D.G. Tendulkar, Gandhi’s biographer). 23. Sheila Dhar, ‘ Here’s Someone I’d Like You to Meet’: Tales of Innocents, Musicians and Bureaucrats (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1995), p. 206. 24. Ibid., p. 204 ff. 25. For example, Govind Nihalani worked as second cameraman on Attenborough’s crew, and went on to become a famous director in his own right. Indian actors included Roshan Seth, Alyque Padamsee, Om Puri, Rohini Hattangadi, Mohan Agashe and Neena Gupta amongst others. Bhanu Athaiya, worked as one of the costume designers. 26. M.K. Gandhi, Satyagraha in South Africa (Ahmedabad: The Navajivan Trust, 1928, 1972 reprint), p. 317 and An Autobiography: My Experiments with Truth (Ahmedabad: The Navajivan Trust, l927; 1976 reprint), p. 404. Although credited to be based on the book of South African writer, Fatima Meer, An Apprenticeship of the Mahatma, for those familiar with Gandhi’s memoirs, the film appears to be a picturisation of these. 27. Lalit Mohan Joshi, ‘Interview: Shyam Benegal’, in Lalit Mohan Joshi, ed, South Asian Cinema: Partition Films, Issue 5-6, 2004, p. 15. 28. Just over a decade later, this came to be the subject of another film, Gandhi,

Reviving Gandhi and the Utopia of Hind Swaraj in Popular Hindi... 151 My Father, which is discussed later in this paper. 29. Sangeeta Datta, Shyam Benegal (New Delhi: Lotus Collections, Roli Books, 2003), p. 150. 30. ‘Lage Raho will make you laugh with moist eyes’, September 4, 2006, http:/ /in.rediff.com/movies/2006/sep/04hirani. htm. (Rajkumar Hirani ‘s interview by Raja Sen). 31. Quoted in ‘Gandhism is Serious Business’, The Telegraph—Calcutta: Metro, October 10, 2006 (www. telegraphindia. com/10610 I 0/asp/calcutta/ story_6850882. asp). 32. Aly Kassam, Gandhi My Father Movie Review, August 5, 2007 (http://www. bollyspice. com/movie-reviews. php/gandhi-my-father-movie-review. html). 33. Anil Sinanan, Times Hollywood Critic, Gandhi My Father Film Reviews, August 2, 2007, in Times Online (http://entertainment. timesonline. co. uk/tol/arts_and_entertainmentlfilm/film_review s/article2189662. ece). 34. Manish Gajjar, BBC Hollywood Correspondent, Gandhi My Father Preview, July 2007, BBC online Bollywood Previews—Shropshire (http://www. bbc. co. uk/shropshire/films/bollywood/2007/07/gandhi_my_father_ preview. shtml). Filmography (For Gandhi on Celluloid) Amar Akbar Anthony (1977) Director: Manmohan Desai A Wednesday (2008) Director: Neeraj Pandey Achuut Kanya (Untouchable Girl, 1936) Director: Franz Osten Andolan (Struggle, 1951) Director: Phani Majumdar Awaara (Vagabond, 1951) Director: Raj Kapoor Border (1997) Director: J.P. Dutta Chake de! India (Go! India, 2007) Director: Shimit Amin Cheeni Kum (The Sugar ‘s Not Enough, 2007) Director: R. Balki Damini (Lightning; 1993) Director Rajkumar Santoshi Deewar (Wall, 2004) Director: Gaurang Doshi Dharti ke Lal (Children of the Earth, 1946) Director: K.A. Abbas Dil Se (From the Heart, 1998) Director: Mani Ratnam Do Bigha Zameen (Two Acres of Land, 1953) Dr Kotnis ki Amar Kahani (The Immortal Story of Dr. Kotnis, 1946) Director: V. Shantaram Gadar—Ek Prem Katha (Chaos—A Love Story, 2001) Director: Anil Sharma Gandhi (1982) Director: Richard Attenborough Gandhi, My Father (2007) Director: Feroz Abbas Khan Garam Hawa (Hot Winds, 1973) Director: M.S. Sathyu Haqeeqat (Reality; 1964) Director: Chetan Anand Henna (1991) Director: Raj Kapoor/Randhir Kapoor Hey Ram (2000) Director: Kamal Hassan Hu TuTu (1999) Director: Gulzar Junoon (The Obsessed, 1978) Director: Shyam Benegal Khakee (2004) Director: Rajkumar Santoshi Lagaan ([Tax] Once Upon a Time in India, 2001) Director: Ashutosh Gowarikar Lage Raho Munna Bhai (2006) Director: Vidhu Vinod Chopra

152 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Lakshya (Target, 2004) LOC—Kargil (2003) Director: J.P. Dutta Maachis (Matchstick, 1999) Director: Gulzar Maine Gandhi ko Nahin Mara (2005) Director: Jahnu Barua Mamma (1994) Director: Shyam Benegal Mother India (aka Bharat Mata, 1957) Director: Mehboob Khan Mission Kashmir (2000) Director: Vidhu Vinod Chopra Namak Haram (The Ungrateful, 1973) Director: Hrishikesh Mukherjee Namastey London (Hello London, 2007) Director: Vipul Amrutlal Shah Naya Daur (New Race, 1957) Director: B.R. Chopra Pinjar (Caged, 2003) Director: Chandra Prakash Dwivedi. Rang de Basanti (Paint it Saffron, 2006) Director: Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra Raja (1992) Director: Mani Ratnam Sab Kuch Hai Kuch Bhi Nahin (Despite Having Everything, I Have Nothing, 2005) Director: Abhik Bhanu Sardar (Biopic of Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, 1993) Director: Ketan Mehta Sarfarosh (Martyr, 1999) Director: John Mathew Matthan Shaheed (Martyr; 1948) Director: Ramesh Saigal for Filmistan Shree 420 (Mr. 420, 1955) Director: Raj Kapoor The Making of the Mahatma (1996) Director: Shyam Benegal The Legend of Bhagat Singh (2002) Director: Rajkumar Santoshi The Rising: Ballad of Mangal Pandey (2005) Director: Ketan Mehta The White Lands (2005) Director: Jayant Gillator Upkaar (Good Deed, 1967) Director: Manoj Kumar Veer Savarkar (Biopic of Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, 2001) Director: Ved Rahi Veer-Zara (2004) Director: Yash Chopra 23 March 1931: Shaheed (2002) Director: Guddu Dhanoa

5 Human Rights, Human Development and Gandhi D. Jeevan Kumar The Right to Development is an inalienable human right by virtue of which every human person and all peoples are entitled to participate in, contribute to, and enjoy economic, social, cultural and political development, in which all human rights and fundamental freedoms can be fully realised. Article 1, UN Declaration on the Right to Development, December 4, 1986

Human Rights Human rights are rights inherent to all human beings, whatever our nationality, place of residence, gender, national or ethnic origin, colour, religion, language, or any other status. We are all equally entitled to our human rights without discrimination. These rights are all interrelated, interdependent and indivisible. Universal human rights are often expressed and guaranteed by law, in the forms of treaties, general principles of customary international law and other sources of international law. International human rights law lays down obligations of governments to act in certain ways or to refrain from certain acts, in order to promote and protect human rights and fundamental freedoms of individuals or groups. The principle of universality of human rights is the cornerstone of international human rights law. This principle, as first emphasised in the Universal Declaration on Human Rights in 1948, has been reiterated in numerous international human rights conventions, declarations, and resolutions. The 1993 Vienna World Conference on Human Rights, for example, noted that it is the duty of states to promote and protect all human rights and fundamental freedoms, regardless of their political, economic and cultural systems. All states have ratified at least one, and 80 per cent of states have ratified four or more, of the core human rights treaties, reflecting consent of states which creates legal obligations for them and giving concrete expression to universality. Some fundamental human rights norms enjoy

154 Swaraj and the Reluctant State universal protection by customary international law across all boundaries and civilisations. Human rights are inalienable. They should not be taken away, except in specific situations and according to due process. For example, the right to liberty may be restricted, if a person is found guilty of a crime by a court of law. All human rights are indivisible, whether they are civil and political rights, such as the right to life, equality before the law and freedom of expression as also economic, social and cultural rights, such as the rights to work, social security and education or collective rights, such as the rights to development and self-determination. They are indivisible, interrelated and interdependent. The improvement of one right facilitates the advancement of the others. Likewise, the deprivation of one right adversely affects the others. Non-discrimination is a cross-cutting principle in international human rights law. The principle is present in all the major human rights treaties and provides the central theme of some of international human rights conventions such as the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination and the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women. The principle applies to everyone in relation to all human rights and freedoms and it prohibits discrimination on the basis of a list of non-exhaustive categories such as sex, race, colour and so on. The principle of non-discrimination is complemented by the principle of equality, as stated in Article 1 of the Universal Declaration of human rights: ‘All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.’ Human rights entail both rights and obligations. States assume obligations and duties under international law to respect, to protect and to fulfil human rights. The obligation to respect means that states must refrain from interfering with or curtailing the enjoyment of human rights. The obligation to protect requires states to protect individuals and groups against human rights abuses. The obligation to fulfill means that states must take positive action to facilitate the enjoyment of basic human rights. At the individual level, while we are entitled our human rights, we should also respect the human rights of others. Human Development The term ‘human development’ was the result of criticism of the approach that was taken in early 1989 on development. At that time, it was believed that there was a close link between a country’s economic growth and expansion of individual choices of human beings. The work of Amartya Sen and others laid the foundations for a different approach and broader human development. The latter was defined as the process of enlarging people’s choices and improving

Human Rights, Human Development and Gandhi 155 human capabilities (the range of things that they can do or be in life) and freedoms so they can live a long and healthy life, have access to education and a decent standard of living, participate in their community and the decisions that affect their lives. Drawing on this, it is undeniable that people are the real wealth of nations, so that human development involves expanding the opportunities and capacities to enable them to live a creative and productive life, according to their needs and interests. For this reason, development is focused on expanding the choices human beings have to live the life they value. In this sense, it is essential to work on building capacities for human development that is sustainable over time. These core capacities for human development are: ● ● ● ●

Enjoying a long and healthy life; Being educated; Access to resources that enable people to live in dignity; Being able to participate in decisions that affect one’s community.

If people are not offered the opportunity to develop the capacities described above, many of the opportunities for obtaining a better quality of life are unavailable or simply do not exist for them. Therefore, human development considers the following six main factors as integral: ●

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Equity: Equal opportunities for all. Special emphasis is placed on equity of human development between men and women and various social groups. Empowerment: Freedom of the people to influence, as the subjects of development, decisions that affect their lives. Cooperation: Participation and belonging to communities and groups as a means of mutual enrichment and a source of social meaning. Sustainability: Meeting the needs of today without compromising the ability of satisfying the same by future generations. Security: Exercise development opportunities freely and safely, with confidence that they will not disappear suddenly in the future. Productivity: Full participation of people in the process of income generation and gainful employment.

To enhance these factors, countries or regions should guide their development strategies towards the gradual creation of an economic, social, political and cultural environment which enhance individual and social capabilities.

156 Swaraj and the Reluctant State One of the major contributions ofthe United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) in this area is the mainstreaming of human development at work, putting people at the centre of development processes as part of its advocacy, policies and programmes. This is highlighted in its annual human development reports. Human Rights and Human Development Human rights and human development share a common vision and a common purpose—to secure the freedom, well-being and dignity of all people everywhere. According to the Human Development Report, 2000, human rights and human development are both about securing basic freedoms. Human rights express the idea that all people have claims to social arrangements that protect them from abuses and deprivations— and that secure the freedom for a life of dignity. Human development, in turn, is a process of enhancing human capabilities—to expand choices and opportunities so that each person can lead a life of respect, value and dignity. When human rights and human development advance together, they reinforce one another—by expanding people’s capabilities and protecting their rights and fundamental freedoms. (United Nations Development Programme, 2000) Human rights can add value to the agenda of development. As pointed out in the Human Development Report, 2000, human rights draw attention to the need to respect, protect and ensure the human rights of all people. The tradition of human rights brings legal tools and institutions to secure freedoms as well as human development. Rights also lend moral legitimacy and social justice to the objectives of human development. The rights perspective shifts the priority to the most deprived and excluded, especially to deprivations based on discrimination. It also directs attention to the need for information and political voice for all people as a development issue, and to civil and political rights as integral parts of the development process. (UNDP, 2000) Human development brings a dynamic, long-term perspective to the fulfilment of human rights. It directs attention to the socio-economic context in which rights can be realised. The concepts and tools of human development provide a systematic assessment of economic and institutional constraints to the realisation of rights, as well as of the resources and policies available to overcome them. Human development thus contributes to building a long-term strategy for the realisation of human rights. Right to Development as a Human Right The United Nations General Assembly, in 1986, adopted by an

Human Rights, Human Development and Gandhi 157 overwhelming majority the Declaration on the Right to Development, stating unequivocally that the Right to Development is a human right. The Second UN World Conference on Human Rights, in 1993, reaffirmed ‘the right to development as a universal and inalienable right, and an integral part of fundamental human rights.’ According to this declaration, ‘Human Rights and fundamental freedoms are the birthright of all human beings; their protection and promotion is the first responsibility of government.’ It also committed the international community to the obligation of cooperation in order to realize these rights. In effect, the right to development emerged as a human right, which integrated economic, social and cultural rights with civil and political rights. According to some, the right to development should be regarded as encompassing the Third Generation of Human Rights. The very first Article of the Declaration on the right to development succinctly explains the concept. It states: The Right to Development is an inalienable human right by virtue of which every human person and all peoples are entitled to participate in and contribute to and enjoy economic, social, cultural and political development in which all human rights and fundamental freedoms can be fully realised. Subsequent Articles in the Declaration clarify the nature of this process of development further and elaborate on the principles of exercising the Right to Development. Article 1.2 even explicitly refers to the right of peoples to self-determination. Article 2.1 categorically states that it is the human person who is the central subject of development, in the sense of the active participant and beneficiary of the Right to Development. The process of development, in which all human rights and fundamental freedoms can be fully realised, would lead to, according to Article 2.3, the constant improvement of the well-being of the entire population and of all individuals, on the basis of their active, free and meaningful participation in development and in the fair distribution of benefits resulting therefrom. Article 8 elaborates this point further by stating that the measures for realising the right to development shall ensure ‘equality of opportunity for all’ in their access to basic resources, education, health services, food, housing, employment and in the fair distribution of income. The realisation of the right would also require that women have an active role in the development process, and that appropriate economic and social reforms should be carried out with a view to eradicating all social injustices. Whose responsibility is it to ensure the realisation of this process of development? According to the Declaration, there are responsibilities to be borne by all the concerned parties: ‘the human persons’, ‘the states operating nationally’, and ‘the states operating internationally’. According to Article 2.2, ‘All human beings have a responsibility for development, individually and collectively’, and they must take

158 Swaraj and the Reluctant State appropriate actions, maintaining full respect for the human rights and fundamental freedoms, as well as their duties to the community. However, ‘the primary responsibility for the creation of national and international conditions favourable to the realisation of the right to development’ is that of states. Article 3.1 reiterates: ‘States have the primary responsibility for the creation of national and international conditions favourable to the realisation of the right to development.’ Article 2.3 states: ‘States have the right and the duty to formulate appropriate national development policies that aim at the constant improvement of the well-being of the entire population and of all individuals, on the basis of their active, free and meaningful participation in development, and in the fair distribution of the benefits resulting therefrom.’ According to Article 8.1: ‘States should undertake, at the national level, all necessary measures for the realization of the right to development and shall ensure, inter alia, equality of opportunity for all in their access to basic resources, education, health services, food, housing, employment and the fair distribution of income. Effective measures should be undertaken to ensure that women have an active role in the development process. Appropriate economic and social reforms should be carried out with a view to eradicating all social injustices.’ Article 8.2 states: ‘States should encourage popular participation in all spheres as an important factor in development and in the full realisation of all human rights.’ States should also take steps ‘to eliminate obstacles to development resulting from failure to observe civil and political rights, as well as economic, social and cultural rights.’ (Article 6.3) With regard to the obligation of states operating at the international level, the Declaration emphasises the crucial importance of international cooperation. According to Article 3.3, ‘States have the duty to cooperate with each other in ensuring development and eliminating obstacles to development. States should realise their rights and fulfil their duties in such a manner as to promote a new international order based on sovereign equality, interdependence, mutual interest and cooperation among all states, as well as to encourage the observance and realisation of human rights.’ Article 4.1 states: ‘states have the duty to take steps, individually and collectively, to formulate international development policies witha view to facilitating the full realisation of the right to development.’ And Article 4.2 states: ‘Sustained action is required to promote more rapid development of developing countries. As a complement to the efforts of developing countries, effective international cooperation is essential in providing these countries with appropriate means and facilities to foster their comprehensive development.’ It must be emphasised that the UN Declaration on the Right to Development is a consensus document. A textual analysis of the document would clearly suggest the following main propositions of the declaration: (Sengupta, 2001)

Human Rights, Human Development and Gandhi 159 1. The Right to Development is a human right; 2. The Right to Development is a right to a particular process of development in which all human rights and fundamental freedoms can be fully realised; 3. The meaning of exercising these rights consistently with freedom implies free, effective and full participation of all the individuals concerned in the decision-making and the implementation of the process. Therefore the process must be transparent and accountable; and 4. The right confers unequivocal obligation on duty-holders: individuals in the community, states at the national level and states at the international level. When viewed from this perspective, as Sengupta very perceptively points out, the responsibility of realising the Right to Development would not end with designing a set of national and international policies; it calls for exercising the human rights approach of respecting the fundamental freedom of individuals to choose the lives they want to live, and exercising the rights they want to claim, transparently and accountably, through participation, with equal access, and with full share of the benefits. When development is seen as a human right, it obligates the authorities, both nationally and internationally, to fulfil their duties in delivering that right in a country. Re-conceptualising Development, the Gandhian Way As the discussion in the preceding section shows, the nature of the process of development has been identified in the UN Declaration on the Right to Development as one in which all human rights and fundamental freedoms can be fully realised. It is centred round the concepts of equity and social justice. It also implies that the well-being of the entire population be improved. The concept of well-being, in this context, extends well beyond the conventional notions of economic growth, GNP/GDP and per capita income, to the expansion of opportunities and capabilities to each and every citizen to enjoy those opportunities. Classical theories of economic development are pre-occupied with the economic, physical and quantitative dimensions of growth. For too long, development was, and still is, obsessed with considerations of maximising the growth of GNP, increasing industrial production, improving technology and increasing consumption. Concepts of equity, justice, participation and freedom were peripheral, and only added as afterthoughts in the development process. Against this background, the right to development suggests a qualitatively different approach, where considerations of equity and justice are primary determinants of

160 Swaraj and the Reluctant State development. In simple words, the human rights approach to development call upon us to re-conceptualise development. It would be useful to recall Mahatma Gandhi’s understanding of society and development. The ideal society visualised by him is not a materially or economically affluent society, as conceived by mainstream economists and political leaders, afflicted by the mania of economic growth. Gandhi called his ideal society ‘Sarvodaya’. It is a society that ensures the welfare and well-being of all its members. Its emphasis is on all the three components of human well-being, namely, material, mental and moral-spiritual. In such a conceptualisation, wealth is defined as relational, rather than material. Such spiritually-based relational wealth creates ‘social capital’, which enhances well-being. The Sarvodaya social order thus provides a framework for the well-being of each and every citizen. The good of one for the good of all, and vice-versa, which Gandhi propounds in his Sarvodaya, is in essence the spirit of humanism, recast and re-modelled on the great Indian saying: ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam’. It is also an echo of Ruskin’s ‘Unto This Last’ from where Gandhi picks up the humanistic spirit of Sarvodaya: (1) That the good of the individual is contained in the good of all; (2) That a lawyer’s work has the same value as the barber’s, inasmuch as all have the same right of earning their livelihood from their work; (3) That a life of labour, i.e., the life of the tiller of the soil and the handicraftsman is the life worth living. (M.K. Gandhi, 1940) Gandhi therefore thinks that for practical humanism, what is badly needed is equalisation of status. This will eliminate undesirable differences between man and man. As a humanistic visionary, Gandhi hopes for a regeneration of India in the elimination of economic and social disparities. Let the good sense of living together, sharing mutual weal and woe, laughter and tears, and negotiating diverse differences usher forth a new horizon of humanism. Sarvodaya, the welfare of all, is a classless society based on the destruction of the classes, but not on the destruction of the individuals who constitute the classes; a system of production that does not fail to make use of science and technology for creating an economy of abundance, but does not in the process either kill individual initiative or freedom for development, or create a psychology of ceaseless striving for more and more material goods; a system of distribution that will ensure a reasonable minimum income for all; and while not aiming at a universal equality of an arithmetical kind, will nevertheless ensure that

Human Rights, Human Development and Gandhi 161 all private property or talent beyond the minimum will be used as a trust for the public good and not for individual aggrandisement; a social order where all will work but there is no inequality, either in status or in opportunity for any individual; and a political system where change is the result of persuasion, differences are resolved by discussion, and conflict by love and recognition of mutuality of interest and a life spent in dedication to God and cultivation of the spirit. Gandhi measured progress in terms of human happiness. He wanted a society in which every man would have equal status, opportunity and freedom to develop. He wanted a simple society in which economic progress and social justice would go together. To establish a ‘Kingdom of God on Earth’ through observance of the spirit of Sarvodaya, as Gandhi desired, is to make room for a broadness of humanistic outlook. It is also to make room for pure and serene thought to orient life from an ethical and aesthetic point of view. The whole world is embraced in the chords of love and beauty. It discards all littleness and allows the warmth of life to be enjoyed and shared in vastness of outlook. Saravodaya is both a way of thought and a way of life. As a way of thought, Sarvodaya exhorts man not to think of himself in isolation from the rest of creation, but to feel convinced of his oneness with all. No individual can really rise on the depression of others. What every member of society should aim at is common weal, the welfare of the whole, for all are aspects of one ‘reality’, expressions of one ‘spirit’. As a way of life, Sarvodaya stands for co-sharing and cooperation, instead of a mad race for accumulation through competition and aggression; for peaceful and non-violent progress instead of chaotic existence under the constant threat of dread and destruction. Sarvodaya is the gospel of wholeness. The inherent spirit of Sarvodaya as a way of life, as Gandhi thinks, has its basis on an integrated approach to life from manifold aspects of human development—moral, material and spiritual. It is therefore unjust to say that a man’s development should be geared only to moral or spiritual development, nor can human progress be measured without material advancement. It is a synchronised endeavour to arrive at a point of comprehensive development of personality. When Gandhi championed the cause of Sarvodaya, he not merely had before him the objective of welfare of all, but also all-round welfare of all the individuals in the society, an understanding of welfare that embraces ethical and spiritual development, as much as material development, but one that was based on need, not greed. From Sarvodaya, Gandhi moves to ‘Antyodaya’—’the last man’, the weakest and most deprived creature in a society. It is the duty of a

162 Swaraj and the Reluctant State society with a sense of justice and equity to give priority to the welfare of the poorest. Here it would be useful to recall the well-known Gandhian talisman: Whenever you are in doubt, apply the following test: Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man whom you have seen, and ask yourself if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him. Will he gain anything by it? Will it restore him to a control over his own life and destiny?

Realising the Right to Development The Human Development Report, 2000 identifies seven key features that are needed for securing the Right to Development (UNDP, 2000): 1. Every country needs to strengthen its social arrangements for securing human freedoms—with norms, institutions, legal frameworks and an enabling economic environment. It must be appreciated that laws alone cannot guarantee human rights. Institutions to support the legal process are also needed—as is a culture of social norms and ethics to reinforce the legal structures. An enabling economic environment is essential, too. 2. The fulfilment of all Human Rights requires democracy that is inclusive—protecting the rights of minorities, providing separation of powers and ensuring public accountability. A broader view of democracy needs to be pursued, incorporating five features: ● Inclusion of minorities ● Separation of powers ● Open civil society and free and independent media ● Transparent policy and decision-making processes ● Containment of the corrupting power of big money 3. Poverty eradication is not only a development goal; it is a central challenge for human rights in the twenty-first century. Poverty eradication is a major human rights challenge of the twentyfirst century. A decent standard of living, adequate nutrition, healthcare, education, decent work and protection against calamities are not just development goals; they are also human rights. Three priorities for human rights and development policies would be: ● Ensuring civil and political rights—freedom of speech, association and participation—to empower poor people to claim their social, economic and cultural rights. ● For the state, meeting its human rights obligations to implement policies and policy-making processes that do the

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most to secure economic, social and cultural rights for the most deprived and to ensure their participation in decisionmaking. Investing economic resources in promoting human rights.

4. Human rights—in an integrated world – require global justice. The state-centred model of accountability must be extended to the obligation of non-state actors and to the state’s obligations beyond national borders. As the world becomes more inter-dependent, both states and other global actors have greater obligations. But little in the current global order binds states and global actors to promote human rights globally. The present world order suffers from three gaps: in incentives, jurisdiction and participation. ●

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Incentive Gaps: Governments in trade negotiations pursue national, not global interests. Jurisdictional Gaps: Human rights treaties have weak enforcement mechanisms, while trade has the ‘teeth’ to enforce its agreements. Global corporations can have enormous impact on human rights—in their employment practices, in their environmental impact, in their support for corrupt regimes, or in their advocacy for policy changes. Yet, international laws hold states accountable, not corporations. Participation Gaps: Small and poor countries hardly participate in global economic rule-making.

5. Information and statistics is a powerful tool for creating a culture of accountability and for realising human rights. Four priorities may be suggested for strengthening the use of indicators in human rights: ● ●

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Ensuring greater public access to official data; Diversifying the sources of information—from national human rights institutions to civil society and community organisations; Setting benchmarks for assessing performance; Strengthening the procedures that hold actors accountable.

6. Achieving all rights for all people in all countries in the twentyfirst century will require action and commitment from the major groups in every society—NGOs, media and businesses, and local as well as national governments. In every country, five priority areas may be suggested for international action:

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Assessing nationally the existing human rights situation to set priorities for action. Reviewing national legislation against core international human rights to identify areas where action is needed to deal with gaps. Using education and the media to promote the norms of human rights throughout society. Building alliances for support and action. Promoting an enabling environment.

7. Human rights and human development cannot be realised universally without stronger international action, especially to support disadvantaged people and countries, and to offset growing global inequalities and marginalisation. Here, four priority areas may be suggested for international action: ● Strengthening a rights-based approach in development cooperation, without conditionality. ● Mobilising the support of international corporations for human rights. ● Embarking on new efforts for peace-making, peace-building and peace-keeping. ● Strengthening the international human rights machinery. Concluding Observations Six paradigm shifts in Cold War thinking that dominated the twentieth century, are called for, to promote a universal culture of human rights and human development, in the Gandhian spirit of Sarvodaya: ●

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From the state-centred approaches to pluralist, multi-actor approaches; From the national to international accountabilities; From the focus on civil and political rights to a broader concern with all human rights; From a punitive to a positive ethos in international pressure and assistance; From a focus on elections to the participation of all, through inclusive models of democracy; and From poverty eradication as a development goal to poverty eradication as social justice. REFERENCES

1. Declaration on the Right to Development, as adopted by the United Nations

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2. 3. 4. 5.

General Assembly; Resolution 4/128, December 4, 1986. See http://www. unhcr. ch/html/menu3/b/74. htm Gandhi, M.K., An Autobiography, Navajivan Publishing House, Ahmedabad, 1940. Sengupta, Arjun, ‘Realizing the Right to Development’ in Development and Change, Vol. 31 (2000). Sengupta, Arjun, ‘Right to Development as a Human Right’ in Economic and Political Weekly, July 7, 2001. United Nations Development Programme, Human Development Report, 2000, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, 2000.

6 Popular Hindi Cinema as Gandhi’s Alter Ego: An Exploration in Respect of ‘Gandhi, My Father’* Dhananjay Rai Even if I was so minded, I should be unfit to answer your questionnaire, as I have never been to a cinema. But even to an outsider, the evil that it has done and is doing is patent. The good, if it has done any at all, remains to be proved. M.K. Gandhi, November, 1927 [This was Gandhi’s response to a questionnaire of Indian Cinematograph Committee seeking his opinion on cinema: In RICC study (as cited in Prasad, 2004: 164)] ‘Mahatma Gandhi has all the qualities an audience would like to see on screen’, Shyam Benegal, The Times of India, July 21, 2007 The engagement of and with M.K. Gandhi has been widely hashed out in the realm of avowal and disavowal or eclectic acceptance. The practitioners of politics, social sciences as well as the apolitical practitioners establish an intriguing relationships with him. There are various vantage points. Gandhi himself provides various essential points concerning engagement with his philosophical terrain. On the other hand, one has to explore ‘interrogating’ grounds to engage with Gandhi due to his pervasive impact on Indian landscape. The popular Hindi cinema is one of such ‘interrogating grounds’. It constitutes a third space maintaining relative autonomy, or claims to be so, from the first space (preachers1/defenders2/beneficiaries3 of Gandhian legacies) and second space, the state apparatus. Its very nature generates enquiry. This article explores whether the Hindi films made on Gandhi become his alter ego or not. For this purpose, the article uses a Hindi film ‘Gandhi, My Father’ as a text cum reference point.

* Earlier published in Social Change, Vol. 41, No. 1, March 2011.

Popular Hindi Cinema as Gandhi’s Alter Ego... 167 Gandhi and Cinematic Relationship Gandhi establishes his relationship with cinema and cinema establishes its relationship with him atypically. His own opinion is an interesting one. Gandhi declared many times that he had never seen a single film and compared cinema with other ‘vices’ such as betting, gambling and horse racing4 (Das Sharma, 1993: 136, as cited in Ganti, 2004: 46). While he was in England...Gandhi never went to the cinema and had not even heard of Charlie Chaplin. He only agreed to meet him when he heard that Chaplin has come from a poor family in the East End, where Gandhi himself had stayed for a time when he first came to England as a student and where he was now staying once again. (Byrne, 1988: 91–92)

Conversely, popular Hindi cinema has treated him altogether uniquely. S. Ramachandran of The Telegraph, comments that, Guess who’s the flavour of the season in Bollywood right now? No, it’s not the scrumptious King Khan, nor is it AB’s beautiful baby. The man who’s got several film makers firmly in his thrall is none other than a thin, dhoti-clad, freedom fighter who was shot dead more than 50 years ago. Yes, it’s Mahatma Gandhi we’re talking about? A national icon who is often regarded as someone who’s been largely forgotten by the young today...Evidently, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi is alive and well in Bollywood. What remains to be seen, though, is whether or not he will set the box office ringing. (Ramachandran, 2006)

Shoma Chatterji of The Tribune further elucidates that ‘Gandhi seems to be omnipresent in many recent Indian films in terms of ideology, metaphor and essence if not in terms of physical presence’ (Chatterji, 2007). With the largest number of films to his credit, what makes Gandhi such a muse even today? ‘That’s because no other character from history can be played up so potently on the big screen,’ answers filmmaker Shyam Benegal who directed ‘The Making of the Mahatma’. Benegal continues: Mahatma Gandhi has all the qualities an audience would like to see on screen. This was the reason why I chose to make a film on the Mahatma. Today, when violence is gripping the entire world, his unconditional plea for non-violence acquires greater importance. And with the changing face of cinema, people want to see something creative—something other than violence and destruction and who can provide that better than the Mahatma? (Benegal, as cited in Jha, 2007)

The absorption of Gandhi in popular Hindi cinema has been done, primarily, through three ways: ‘direct reference’, ‘indirect reference’ and ‘unseen reference’. Direct reference pertains to construction and exhibition of the Bapu. The construction of the Bapu, on the one hand,

168 Swaraj and the Reluctant State exemplifies Gandhi as a microcosm of India in terms of representing the collective aspiration of the Indian landscape and, on the other hand, the Bapu is himself the solution. In fact, there is a conversion of Gandhi into the nation along with his becoming the panacea of various conundrums afflicting the contemporaneous India. The Bapu‘s exhibition, in the form of the nation and solution of myriad malaises, gets cemented through exclusion of alternative views vis-a-vis multiplicity of nation, challenging the nation and disparate solutions of various challenges. In other words, the construction of problems and exhibition of solutions do not envisage the presence of alternate views but Gandhi. The Bapu means not only a solution but the solution. Furthermore, the Bapu becomes the projection which cannot be squelched, questioned and supervened upon. The Making of the Mahatma (1996), Lage Raho Munna Bhai (2006) and Gandhi, My Father (2007) are the important ones. In the case of indirect references, there are two types of representation: first, as the Bapu, here his presence is not important but, his constant preaching becomes significant— Water (2005), Mangal Pandey: The Rising (2005), Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara (2005). Even in Hey Ram (1999) in the end, Gandhi is winner despite misrepresentation of historical facts. The leading protagonist Saket Ram (Kamal Haasan ) who once aspired to kill Gandhi, eventually lived on Gandhian principles; and second, as Gandhi (Depiction as Gandhi in place of Bapu denotes that he is no longer a larger than life human being. He is not the solution or only solution. He has been contested. This can be located in those films which are biographical in nature. However, these films are in minority. Some of them are Sardar (1993), Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar (2000) and Veer Savarkar (2001), wherein focus is on certain individuals rather than M.K. Gandhi). Besides contemporaneous indirect engagement, the Bapu loomed large in colonial Hindi cinema in terms of indirect referencing. A silent-era film Sant Vidur (or Bhakt Vidur), produced in 1921, provided a direct nationalist projection of Gandhi. In this Vidur was moulded on the personality of Mahatma Gandhi, played by Dwarka Das, an actor with a tall and lanky figure. His entire make up ‘made him look the Mahatma, including the Dandi Danda in his hand’ (Chowdhry, 2000: 154–55). There were yet other films, like Brahmachari made in 1938, which showed Gandhi’s Wardha-like ashram run on nationalist lines of self-help, hard work, the khadi (raw cotton) spinning and weaving programme and other handicrafts. The charkha (spinning wheel), reminiscent of Sudarshan Chakra (the divine weapon of the Hindu and Lord Vishnu and a destroyer of all evil), and looked upon as a potent icon of freedom movement, was popularly perceived as a symbol of the annihilation of foreigners (Chowdhry, 2000: 155). An important

Popular Hindi Cinema as Gandhi’s Alter Ego... 169 landmark in early films incorporating the contemporary nationalist discourse, especially in relation to Mahatma Gandhi, was Sant Tukaram (1936). The film established a close parallel between Tukaram and Gandhi in their message. In the late 1930s, the marketability of nationalism and its viability were visible not merely in the films produced by Indians—most of which became popular hits—but also in the way producers, distributors and exhibitors advertised their products. Mahatma Gandhi, for example, was a favourite for advertising the films. Large size photographs of Gandhi adorned the film advertisements along with much smaller photographs of the lead hero or heroine. Yet other films were advertised as ‘helper to the cause of Mahatma Gandhi’, or invited the viewers to see their film, advertised as portraying ‘the ideals of Mahatma Gandhi’, or claimed that ‘Mahatma Gandhi’s immortal words inspire a picture’, so much so that the distributors and exhibitors of a Hollywood film also felt it commercially prudent to put in a sponsored advertisement claiming, ‘Mahatma Gandhi sees the first talking picture Mission to Moscow’ (Chowdhry, 2000: 155–156). Contrarily, unseen references are where Gandhi is absent but his philosophical engagement looms large. In this category there are innumerable films; some of them are Achhut Kanya (1936), Sujata (1959), Lagaan (2001), Swadesh (2004), and so on. According to Vijay Mishra, ‘Himanshu Rai’s first important film, Achhut Kanya (The untouchable girl, 1936), is...important...for two other kinds of historical negotiations. The first is the use of the metaphysical tradition to explain or resolve the historical moment. The second is the use of a nationalist agenda as part of the ideology of the aesthetic. The unseen, uncited figure that looms large is Mahatma Gandhi, who had effectively glamorised the figure of the ascetic renouncer, and had grafted social action onto new symbolic alignments and associations. Nowhere is the latter more obvious than in the reconstitution of the untouchable as Harijan. While this gesture made no difference to the real relations between castes in India, it did mean that the Harijan could be incorporated into the larger narrative of anti-colonial struggle. The rhetoric of Indian nationalism was thus predicated upon a representation of an India no longer cursed by the reality of untouchability. But like much else in the Mahatma’s own teaching, the fight against untouchability was presented not in material but in dharmik terms: ...how one got the original dharma right and not how one restituted the absolute other outsider back into a caste–ridden system. In the hands of Himanshu Rai, cinema functioned as a compensatory form as it shifted the sign of the untouchable from social reality to romance but without losing sight of the dharmik ideal. Which is why it is not uncommon to find readings of Achchut Kanya in the popular film periodicals as “a typical

170 Swaraj and the Reluctant State and tragic story of a Harijan girl’s unrequited love for a Brahmin youth”’ (Mishra, 2002:18).

Gandhi, Hermeneutic and Cinema Gandhi and cinematic thus establish a relational aspect through three ways. However, it does not explicate that why has there been an intensified reception to Gandhi in the realm of popular Hindi cinema? In other words, despite Gandhi’s disdain, popular Hindi cinema has become a significant assimilatory space. Furthermore, Gandhi has been located in various spheres to unearth various nuances. This sphere has been, more or less, insulated in terms of explicating cinematic response to Gandhi due to discerning Gandhi hermeneutically. The hermeneutic understanding has been zeroed in on utility, inutility, originality, integrity and unity in Gandhi’s philosophical landscape. Therefore, he becomes ‘one of the first non-western thinkers of the modern age to develop a political theory grounded in the unique experiences and articulated in terms of the indigenous philosophical vocabulary of his country’ (Parekh, 1995: 3). And he is, ...The first anti-imperialist leader of the modern age, the first man to mobilise millions for a political cause and fashion the necessary organisational and communicational tools, the first man to invent an unusual method of political struggle and one of the few in history. (Parekh, 1995: 4)

He has been called a leader who led a multi-class movement (Chandra, 1988). There has been attribution of the ‘synergism’ to Gandhi in terms of bringing both the least privileged and the prosperous at par: ‘He pleaded for a more synergetic notion of collective welfare, wherein the suffering of the least and the lowest inevitably interacts with the supposed well-being of the most prosperous so as to negate completely the alleged social value of such prosperity’ (Iyer, 2006: 9). Analogously, ‘the fact is that no one did more than Gandhi to undermine the centuriesold caste system and to remove the blot of untouchability from Hinduism’ (Nanda, 2004: 18). Moreover, the significance, inter alia, of manual labour and the question of women’s emancipation are pillars of Gandhi’s philosophy (Basham, 2008: 19–44). Concerning women, breaking the domesticated ambience of women was the rare achievement of Gandhi (Kishwar, 1985: 1753–58). Nonetheless, the counter argument points out that women’s participation should not be treated as mere homogenous participation (Patel, 1988: 377–87). The need to understand Gandhi and Ambedkar in concert has also been emphasised. Due to their confrontation against each other, Gandhi realised the importance of economics, which was dear to Ambedkar and Ambedkar appreciated the significance of religion, very close to Gandhi (Nagaraj, 1993: 1–30).

Popular Hindi Cinema as Gandhi’s Alter Ego... 171 Gandhi also becomes significant in the context of Hinduism and has been stated that de-brahmanisation of Hinduism through deintellectualism has been the vital achievement of Gandhi (Nandy, 1980: 70–98). Moreover Gandhi was following the terrain of spirituality against materialism. This was important to destabilise the eurocentricism and scientism (Nandy, 1983, 1987). Hind Swaraj (Indian Home Rule) has been eulogised for its emphasis on the newness in terms of social science methodology and posing challenges to western and modern social sciences (as K. Raghavendra Rao discussed in Pantham, 1995: 113–14). In a similar vein, it has been averred that Gandhi’s opposition to science was complete and absolute (Sahasrabudhey, 2008: 195–222). However, this has been contested (Guha, 2008: 223–38; Visvanathan, 2008: 212–44). Gandhi is being accused for bringing the bourgeois revolution in India and diverting the struggle against the bourgeoisie (Chatterjee, 1986; Guha, 1989: 210–309; Upadhyaya, 1989). The passive revolution of bourgeoisie became only possible through the Gandhian method which, on the one hand, de-weaponised the peasantry and on the other hand, due to bourgeoisie’s inability to wage a full-fledged war against the pre-capitalist formation, the former appropriated the peasantry and other subordinated castes politically without modernising them (Chatterjee, 1986). Contrary to this view, Gandhi has been appreciated for modernisation of tradition in terms of making ‘other’ world more active and practical (Rudolph and Rudolph, 1967), being a post-modern (Rudolph and Rudolph, 2006) and because he recovers the core of Hinduism and humanism of western thought (Dallmayr, 1989: 22–38). Moreover, an ‘exemplar’ has been discovered in Gandhi’s philosophy which is more radical than the principles of moral philosophy. In other words, his philosophy is not about ‘what is good for me, would be good for others’ but ‘What is good for me must become an example.’ (Bilgrami, 2003: 4159–165). Through a post-liberal and trans-liberal feature, Gandhi was solving the contradiction between freedom of morality in private sphere and absence of it while dealing with the amoral procedure in public life (private/public dichotomy) (Pantham, 1983: 165–88). To overcome this, Gandhi uses Swarajist struggle (reclaiming the political freedom from the amoral state by the masses) and Satyagraha (extension of principle of morality from private to public) (Pantham, 1995: 118). Concerning the issue of unity, it has been profoundly stated that Gandhian philosophy revolves around the Purushartha (the aims of life). Accordingly, Gandhi established the perfect relationship amongst Purusharthas. They are Kama (love), Artha (wealth), Dharma (morality), and Moksha (liberation from the cycle of

172 Swaraj and the Reluctant State reincarnation). In the Gandhian schema, they are not competitors against each other but work in tandem (Parel, 2006). The aforesaid analyses untangle Gandhian philosophy into multifaceted dimensions. In terms of discernment of Gandhi and his voluminous writings, primacy has been given to the hermeneutic. Though hermeneutic elements constitute a significant aspect in terms of exploration of various nuances of Gandhi’s indirect and direct references, yet it is difficult to those ‘interrogating grounds’ where Gandhi meagrely contributes or maintains ‘nearby’ silence. Despite sporadic comments Gandhi did not explicate cinematic institution. These are the spaces to be unravelled. In other words, the ‘commonality’ between Gandhi and cinema cannot be much explicated through the hermeneutic because Gandhi, barring a very few occasions, never spoke or took cinema very seriously. Conversely, there has been a regular involvement of cinema with Gandhi. Therefore, through Gandhi’s texts and views, ‘cinematic relationship’ could not be substantially explored under the hermeneutic ambit and the existing literatures do not help much to discern this engagement either. Hence, it becomes clear, on the one hand, through text and act, that Gandhi never attempted to establish any relationship with cinematic institutions, though cinema has embraced him all the way through various ways. To discern his relation with ontological aspects becomes important, and not merely clinging to the hermeneutic. Similarly uncovering the epistemological construction of Gandhi which is represented by Hind Swaraj at its best becomes significant. Almost all his political, social, economic and spiritual comments, and activism and programmes were set in its ambit. The ambit of the text was inclusive for Gandhi in terms of his vision for India and values which remained eternal. Primacy of Epistemology, Negation of Ontology and Absenting Other The Hind Swaraj, or Indian Home Rule, a significant text written by gandhi between 13 and 22 November, 1909, during his voyage from England to South Africa, is a pertinent text to evaluate Gandhi’s vantage points on numerous issues. As Anthony Parel expatiates, Hind Swaraj is the seed from which the tree of Gandhian thought has grown to its full stature. For those interested in Gandhi’s thought in a general way, it is the right place to start, for it is here that he presents his basic ideas in their proper relationship to one another. And for those who wish to study his thought more methodically, it remains the norm by which to assess the theoretical significance of his other writings, including the Autobiography. It can also save them from the danger of otherwise getting

Popular Hindi Cinema as Gandhi’s Alter Ego... 173 drowned in the vast sea of Gandhian anthologies. (Parel, 2009: xiii) The engagement with this text is not an interpretative one but to know the epistemological construction of Gandhi. First, there is a complete avowal of the text time and again. Though the text was published in 1910 in English, Gandhi defended it throughout his life. Accordingly, Gandhi opines that: The Satyagraha of South Africa was still an infant hardly two years old. But it had developed sufficiently to permit to write of it with some degree of confidence...In my [Gandhi’s] opinion it is a book which can be put into the hands of a child. It teaches the gospel of love in place of that of hate. It replaces violence with self–sacrifices. It pits soul force against brute force. It has gone through several editions and I commend it to those who would care to read it. I withdraw nothing...It was written in 1908. My conviction is deeper today than ever. (Gandhi, 2006: 15)

Therefore, Gandhi’s epistemological construction remains intact. Second, Gandhi’s certainty concerning epistemological construction, and its ingredients therein, is overwhelming. The whole construction in terms of choosing or omitting variables is his unilateral decision like Brahmacharya, faith, fearlessness, labour, non-possession, non-violence, Sarvodaya, Satyagraha, Swadeshi, trusteeship, truth, and so on. Moreover, his referencing 5 is reflection of the nature of epistemological construction. The intriguing aspect is his adoption of epistemology which moves from contemporaneous discernment to futuristic visions. In other words, Gandhi’s construction denies the historicity of variables in terms of their working throughout the Indian history, that is, negligence of ontology per se. Through his epistemology, he was defining and redefining the various terms and categories and therefore placing it before the people in terms of emancipation. In a way he places his vitality of epistemology over ontology in Swaraj and Satyagraha. In the absence of ontological engagement, Gandhi’s epistemological endeavour remains problematic for those who have been the victims of numerous terms and categories which were intrinsic and innocuous traits in his schema. It needs further elucidations. His engagement was primarily literal and verbatim with the numerous Terrains of Indian philosophy. And he borrowed generously in his pursuit of knowledge and alone decided the places of many categories. Therefore, his borrowing and justification becomes independent of practicality. In other words, since he emphasised much on epistemology, therefore there was a complete negation of ontology that is the evaluation of trajectory and their workings in corporeal world. Though Gandhi creates an umbrella coalition from various values and from various corners, unfortunately, the conglomeration of those values acquires primacies which were

174 Swaraj and the Reluctant State working in actuality for inclusion and exclusion syndrome. Since the engagement of Gandhi was only his prerogative in terms of choosing ‘values’ of philosophical engagement, the chosen values by him become values of ‘visible places’. ‘Visible places’ stand for the ‘voices heard’. The Gandhian schema becomes more complex not only due to omission of ontology in terms of understanding the historicity of various values and workings but also because of his creation of ‘Other’ and complete negation of its standpoint in his various values. Creation of ‘Other’ is visible in Gandhi’s endeavour due to his firm alignment with those values which are responsible for the subjugation of various communities or were/are working entirely differently or contrarily to Gandhi’ assumption. Wittingly or unwittingly, Gandhi’s values were or became the representative of the dominant. Moreover, due to Gandhi’s incessant protraction of those values throughout his life, on the one hand, creates the ‘Other’ due to exhibition of dominant’s intrinsic values and judging everyone from analogous values, and on the other hand, owing to his firmness concerning values, led to the ‘Absenting Other’, a perspective from subjugated sections. The issue of ‘Absenting Other’ at no time suggests that Gandhi or his philosophy was devoid of allusion. On the contrary, it suggests while creating ‘Other’, he did not take the cognisance of ‘Other’s’ discernment. Due to this, the usage of values become offensive due to his negligence of historicity of values and ‘Absenting Other’ in terms of values’ functioning. Since the theories of values and functioning of values were contradictory, and Gandhi could not align with the functional side, he found theories of values emancipatory in nature. Thereby, many issues get missed in his schema and also the solutions which he derived from philosophical engagement were not apt viz. Dalit issue, women’s question and labour oppression. Alter Ego, Philosophical Engagement and ‘Other’ Engagement At the philosophical level Gandhi and popular Hindi cinema adopt analogous spheres. The convergence in their approaches is that both derive their values from a ‘philosophical’ realm which has its own virtues. Cinema gets its derivative from the established values. It needs further explanation. The popular Hindi cinema encompasses manifold spheres. Beneath the manifold spheres, there is a philosophical landscape which is constructed through the discourses available at the time of its arrival. These were visible discourses, the language of the dominant. The language of a few constitutes the philosophical base of the popular Hindi cinema. It does not mean that the other voices are absent. However, the other voices are permitted only after being streamlined by dominant language, that is, terms and conditions of the dominants. Put differently, popular Hindi cinema constructs the ‘Other’

Popular Hindi Cinema as Gandhi’s Alter Ego... 175 through highlighting the values of dominant and rejecting the values of non-dominant and intriguingly, represents the ‘Other’ sans its standpoint. In other words, the dominant vocabulary occupies the centre space of cinematic realm in terms of engaging. The usage of dominant and prevalent vocabulary becomes the fulcrum of problem-cum-solution syndrome. Ironically, the myriad subjugatory practices which are byproducts of the dominant discourses tend to be solved under the rubric of dominant vocabulary. Here cinematic role becomes a peculiar one. It purports to solve the problems of victims through the language of dominant due to its alignment with the latter since the beginning. Therefore, it also neglects the voices of non-dominant. It tends to provide panacea sans the affected categories’ involvement. At this juncture, Gandhi and popular Hindi cinema get converged because both share a similar epistemological ground in terms of values adoption and imposition of the terms and categories without seeking the response of affected categories and rejecting the heterogeneous opinion, especially of non-dominant, though differently. In case of Gandhi and cinema, epistemological construction is imbued with the philosophical concepts: the difference is that former clings to the values sans historicity while the latter knows the actuality and follows the path deliberately. Even for the solution, the response carries the message of dominant ones. The commonest link between the two is their modus operandi, that is, engagement from philosophy to the empirical sans vice-versa. In both cases oppressed categories’ opinion does not hold much importance; what is important in both is the availability of solution. The creation of epistemology in both is insulated from the horizontal response and zeroes on vertical solutions. It is not strange that Gandhi’s engagement with philosophical terrain deprives him from locating the actuality of values that is judging the values across sections and in case of cinema, due to its alignment with the dominant discourses, it follows the politics of silence concerning various sections of the society and politics of engagement on its own terms. In a nutshell, both cinema and Gandhi construct their own realms of engagement through the epistemological construction, thereby sharing a common dais. Since values of both epistemologies are deriving from similar sources, they get converged. In the case of Gandhi, his epistemological values are grand ancient heritage and in the case of popular Hindi cinema, it is the posterity of that grand ancient heritage. Therefore, popular Hindi cinema did not adopt the antagonistic approach vis-a-vis Gandhi. Gandhi has influenced the popular Hindi cinema in a big way. In turn, popular Hindi cinema has been rallied on the creation of

176 Swaraj and the Reluctant State situation wherein Gandhi’s ‘philosophical engagement’ could be invoked. These are done through exhibiting conflicting binaries like city and town, tradition and modernity, violence and dilemma, wrong and right, state and violence, and so on. It engages/highlights Gandhi’s epistemological emancipatory values absorbed in visible places. And it caters to the needs of ‘institutional acceptance’ and ‘acceptance of visible places’. In this mode of presentation, Gandhi has been presented as the Bapu: the Bapu symbolises the absence of dialectic. The presence of Bapu is the absence of Gandhi. The absence of Gandhi means the absence of critical engagement. The cinemas made on Gandhi are profound expressions of his philosophical values and justification of values. These values are endorsed in a big way through the absence of the condition wherein ‘Other’ standpoint could become allusion. Therefore, films made on Gandhi take the sojourn with ‘Other’ in all together a different way; they do not raise uncomfortable questions, especially questions from ‘invisible places’. The question props up only to be mitigated through Gandhian way. In this way conditions are not projected wherein ‘empirical answers are sought’. Gandhi, My Father Gandhi, My Father (2007) is not merely an eponymous film due to its dealing with Gandhi’s (Darshan Jariwalla) relationship with his son Harilal Gandhi (Akshaye Khanna) along with Kasturba (Shefali Chhaya) and Harilal’s wife, Gulab Gandhi (Bhumika Chawla). The film asserts Gandhi’s values on Indian political, social and economic spectrum. The content is very simple: Harilal Gandhi, eldest son of Gandhi, gets married without his father’s permission which displeases Gandhi. Harilal’s inability to carry forward Gandhi’s legacy led him to various deviations like drinking, religion conversion, fraudulency concerning money and inconsistency towards goals. Due to these, Gandhi distances himself not from his son but from his weaknesses. The perusal of this film is significant due to the exposition of a blurred public and private in Gandhi’s everyday life. The good in public and the good in private are similar, equal and exact. The interest of son is imbued with the interest of the country, as Gandhi asserts through his epistemology. In other words, epistemology of Gandhi is equal in all spheres. The time span of the film is from 1906 (Rajkot) to June 18, 1948 (Bombay). The film begins with his son Harilal who is taken to the hospital in a pitiable condition. His father’s name is needed for the admission in the hospital. After several attempts, he remembers his previous life which starts with his days in Rajkot, 1906. His remembrance of various personal aspects is intertwined along with Gandhi’s

Popular Hindi Cinema as Gandhi’s Alter Ego... 177 numerous assertions on socio-political historic-economic landscape of India. The film ends with Harilal’s death in a hospital in Bombay on June 18, 1948. The film, on the pretext of father–son relationship, touches core values of Gandhian epistemology like education, law, medicine, and views on luxurious railways, spinning wheels, Swadeshi, untouchability and partition. Gandhi’s appearance time in the film is in South Africa wherein he was experimenting with ‘values’. When Kasturba insists on bringing Harilal to South Africa for his education, Gandhi’s suggestion is noteworthy: ‘education’ has to be in vernacular language and formal education is not needed. Similarly, ‘law’ won’t be broken but not obeyed, as he did in South Africa against racist practices. On the issue of religion, he is not perturbed even when his son gets converted to Islam. However, fundamentalism has been questioned by him time and again. Justification of villages by Gandhi has been shown categorically along with his opposition to urban sphere. Intriguingly, his support comes to villages on the question of untouchability. Gandhi in the film lambasts urban people for their reluctance to donate towards the removal of untouchability, as he says that the people in urban areas are not donating to eradicate untouchability. However, the people in villages despite being poor are generous enough to donate against the practice of untouchability. The linkages between untouchability and donation are not being explicated. Perhaps, donation could be understood as a means to eradicate this menace. On this question Gandhi neither explores the answer in his epistemology nor the film. Moreover, the village has been construed as a harmonious island. The village occupies the centrality of Gandhi’s philosophy. Gandhi writes that: I regard the growth of cities as an evil thing, unfortunate for mankind and the world, unfortunate for England and certainly unfortunate for India. The British have exploited India through its cities. The latter have exploited the villages. The blood of the villages is the cement with which the edifice of the cities is built. I want the blood that is today inflating the arteries of the cities to run once again in the blood vessels of the villages...I know that, if India is to be the leader in clean action based clean thought, God would confound of...big men and will provide the villages with the power to express themselves as they should. India is made of villages, but our intelligentsia has neglected them...Village life must not become a copy or appendage of city life. The cities have to adopt the pattern life and subsist for the village. (Gandhi, 2002b: 362–63)

‘I would say that, if the village perishes, India will perish too’ (Gandhi, 2002a: 369). On the issue of untouchability, Gandhi confronts the caste Hindu. And the film projects that concern. However, Gandhi does not take the cognisance of victims who were fighting the oppressive system,

178 Swaraj and the Reluctant State but responding to the barbaric system through his values. He did not bridge the gap between his values and the sufferer, and neither does the film. On both issues, Gandhi remained oblivious to the ontological aspect of village and untouchability in terms of functioning and sought solutions only through his epistemological construction. Even ‘Other’ voices got lukewarm responses from Gandhi concerning village and untouchability. Popular Hindi cinema, similarly does not accommodate ‘Other’ neither in general films nor films concerning Gandhi. It does not create the condition whereby challenges to a dominant discourse could commence. Ambedkar’s remarks on villages and untouchability suggest an altogether different picture. Ambedkar asks, what is the position of the Untouchables in this [Village] republic? They are not merely the last but are also the least...The village is the very negation of a republic. If it is a republic, it is a republic of the Touchables, by the Touchables and for the Touchables. (Ambedkar, 2006a: 330)

Ambedkar succinctly highlights the absence of the view of ‘Other’ in Gandhi. Reformers working for the removal of untouchability including Mahatma Gandhi, do not seem to realise that the acts of the people are merely the results of their beliefs inculcated upon their minds by the Shastras and that people will not change their conduct until they cease to believe in the sanctity of the Shastras on which their conduct is founded. No wonder that such efforts have not produced any results. You also seem to be erring in the same way as the reformers working in the cause of removing untouchability. To agitate for and to organise inter-caste dinners and intercaste marriages is like forced feeding brought about by artificial means. Make every man and woman free from the thraldom of the Shastras, cleanse their minds of the pernicious notions founded on the Shastras, and he or she will inter-dine and inter-marry, without your telling him or her to do so. (Ambedkar, 2006b: 290).

Ambedkar’s views concerning villages and untouchability were bypassed by Gandhi and cinema. Gandhi was sanguine about his epistemology, which turned into the dominant’s epistemology, and cinema remains a bastion for dominants’ sections of society who are very very much hostile to Ambedkar, and thereby leading to the exclusion of ‘Other’ in both types of films wherein Gandhi is a referent point or not. The confidence of Gandhi’s epistemology has been recognised in the film through his famous statement that ‘I could not convince two people in my lifetime; they are my kathiyawad friend, Mohammed Ali Jinnah and my own son, Harilal’. Perhaps, there were more people

Popular Hindi Cinema as Gandhi’s Alter Ego... 179 whom Gandhi could not win over. However, they were not recognised primarily because winning them in Gandhi’s schema was not an issue in the context of his influential paraphernalia acquired through selective values. His recognition of failure vis-a-vis Jinnah is important to his incessant rebuttal to the partition. So recognising Jinnah as his failure is the assertion of his intrinsic value that is Ahimsa, where partition was violence. On the other hand, Harilal as his failure and its projection in cinema suggest various deeper nuances. There are specific reasons for this acceptance of failure vis-a-vis Harilal. First, the confrontation between Gandhi and Harilal is not the confrontation between a father and a son duo but the confrontation between two value systems. Gandhi’s value system indeed emerges victorious. The other value system could of any value, not necessarily the Harilal led value system. In other words, Harilal has to be a failure for the victory of Gandhi. The question is not condoning Harilal, but engaging with Gandhi’s views on any unGandhian value systems. Conclusions We can make five statements in conclusion: first, since the alignment of popular Hindi cinema converges with the philosophical terrain of Gandhi, he becomes the Bapu which means absence of dialectic. Second, there is an absence of ‘Other’ concerning Gandhi wherein Gandhi is the leading protagonist. Third, very few films pose challenges to ‘the Bapu’; however, they remain marginalised. Fourth, cinema being a modern tool and one of the unfavoured entities (in Gandhi’s view) ironically has become one of the alter egos of Gandhi. Fifth, due to commonality between Gandhi and cinema on philosophical landscape, both get converged. The conversion between the two not only helps them on numerous issues in a sense of defence and propagation, but also the exclusion of unfamiliar voices which were never made the part of philosophical discourses, whereby Gandhi and cinema draw values to construct two altogether different realms but a similar value system. NOTES 1. The category of preachers belongs to a set of people who consider ‘Gandhi’ as an innocuous value. Their preaching bypasses the critical engagement with un-Gandhians. 2. The defenders are different from the preachers in a sense that the former consider ‘Gandhi’ as one of the best available innocuous values, thereby in place of denuding it in contemporaneous juncture (mired by violence be it political, economic, social, environment, spiritual and so on), ‘Gandhi’ has to be defended.

180 Swaraj and the Reluctant State 3. Beneficiaries have multifaceted aspects: direct beneficiaries (for whom Gandhi spoke), indirect beneficiaries (Gandhi neither spoke in favour of them nor against; thus they have an obvious inclination to come closer to him since his stature cum legitimacy would prove a fructuous endeavour) and indifferent beneficiaries (Gandhi’s philosophical terrain was not inclusive enough to address the grievances of many sections of the society; in fact, the lack of any challenges to these people’s exploitation (who were never normatively included), strengthened the position of oppressors. Moreover, Gandhi was assassinated by indifferent beneficiaries). 4. Contrary to this claim, according to Amrit Gangar and Virchand Dharamsey, Gandhi watched an eponymous film Ram Rajya (Gangar and Dharamsey, 1998: 90). 5. His reference is significant because he relies on ‘some authorities’ like The Kingdom of God is Within you: Tolstoy ; What Is Art?: Tolstoy; The Slavery of Our Times: Tolstoy; The First Step: Tolstoy; How Shall We Escape?: Tolstoy; Letter to a Hindu: Tolstoy; The White Slaves of England: Sherard; Civilisation: Its Cause and Cure: Carpenter; The Fallacy of Speed: Taylor; A New Crusade: Blount; On the Duty of Civil Disobedience: Thoreau; Life Without Principle: Thoreau; Unto This Last: Ruskin; A Joy For Ever: Ruskin; Duties of Man: Mazzini; Defence and Death of Socrates: Plato; Paradoxes of Civilisation: Max Nordau; Poverty and Un-British Rule in India: Naoroji; Economic History of India: Dutt; Village Communities: Maine (Gandhi, 2006: 91). Moreover, in the construction of his epistemology, Gandhi provides the testimonies by eminent men who are the defenders of the values which Gandhi time and again uses. As he explains, the following extracts from Mr Alfred Webb’s valuable collection, if the testimony given therein be true, show that the ancient Indian civilisation has little to learn from the modern: Victor Cousin (1792–1867) Founder of systematic eclecticism in philosophy; J. Seymour Keay, MP Banker in India and India agent (writing in 1883); Friedrich Max Mueller, LLD Michael G. Mulhall, FRSS Statistics (1899); Colonel Thomas Munro Thirty-two years’ service in India; Frederick von Schlegel; Sir WilliamWedderburn, Bart; I. Young, Secretary, Sassoon Mechanics’ Institutes (within recent years); Abbe J.A. Dubois, Missionary in Mysore (extracts from a letter dated Seringapatam December 15, 1820). (Gandhi, 2006: 92–96)

REFERENCES Ambedkar, B.R. (2006a). Outside the fold. In Valerian Rodrigues (Ed.), The essential writings of B.R. Ambedkar (pp. 323–31). New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Ambedkar, B.R. (2006b). Annihilation of caste. In Valerian Rodrigues (Ed.), The essential writings of B.R. Ambedkar (pp. 263–305). New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Basham, A.L. (2008). Traditional influences on the thought of Mahatma Gandhi. In A. Raghuramaraju (Ed.), Debating Gandhi: A reader (pp. 19–44). New Delhi: Oxford University Press.

Popular Hindi Cinema as Gandhi’s Alter Ego... 181 Bilgrami, A. (2003). Gandhi, the philosopher. Economic and Political Weekly, 38 (26): 4159–165. Byrne, D. (1988). Mahatma Gandhi: The man and his message. Hyderabad: Orient Longman Limited. Chandra, B. (1988). Indian national movement: The long-term dynamics. New Delhi: Vikas. Chatterjee, P. (1986). Nationalist thought and the colonial world. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Chatterji, Shoma, A. (2007, July 22). In the name of the father. The Tribune. Retrieved from http://www. tribuneindia. com/2007/20070722/ spectrum/main4. htm Chowdhry, Prem. (2000). Colonial India and the making of empire cinema: Image, ideology and identity. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Dallmayr, Fred. (1989). Gandhi as mediator between East and West. In Fred Dallmayr (Ed.), Margins of political discourse (pp. 22–38). Albany: State University of New York Press. Gandhi, M.K. (2002a). All-round village service. In R.K. Prabhu and U.R. Rao (Eds.), The mind of Mahatma Gandhi (pp. 365–71). Ahmedabad: Navajivan Trust. ———. (2002b). Back to village. In R.K. Prabhu and U.R. Rao (Eds.), The mind of Mahatma Gandhi (pp. 361–64). Ahmedabad: Navajivan Trust. ———. (2006). Hind Swaraj or Indian Home Rule. Ahmedabad: Navajivan Publishing House. Gangar, A. and Dharamsey, V. (1998). India cinema: A visual voyage. New Delhi: Publications Divisions, National Film Development Corporation of India, Ministry of information and Broadcasting, Government of India. Ganti, T. (2004). Bollywood: A Guidebook to Popular Hindi Cinema, Routledge Film Guide-books. New York: Routledge. Guha, Ramachandra. (2008). Mahatma Gandhi and environmental movement. In A. Raghuramaraju (Ed.), Debating Gandhi: A reader (pp. 223–36). New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Guha, Ranajit. (1989). Dominance without hegemony and its historiography. In Ranajit Guha (Ed.), Subaltern studies No. VI, Writings on South Asian History and Society (pp. 210–309). New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Iyer, R. (2006). The essential writings of Mahatma Gandhi. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Jha, S. (2007, July 21). Gandhi, the making of a hero. The Times of India. Retrieved from http://timesofindia. indiatimes. com/articleshow/msid-2221587, prtpage-1. cms. Kishwar, M. (1985). Gandhi on women. Economic and Political Weekly, 20 (41): 1753–758. Mishra, V. (2002). Bollywood cinema: Temples of desire. London: Routledge. Nagaraj, D.R. (1993). The flaming fleet: A study of Dalit movement in India. Bangalore: South Forum Press. Nanda, B.R. (2004). Gandhi and His Critics. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Nandy, A. (1980). At the edge of psychology. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. ———. (1983). The intimate enemy. New Delhi: Oxford university Press.

182 Swaraj and the Reluctant State ———. (1987). Traditions, tyranny and utopias. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Pantham, T. (1983). Thinking with Mahatma Gandhi: Beyond liberal democracy. Political Theory, 11 (2): 165–88. ———. (1995). Political theories and social reconstruction. New Delhi: Sage Publications. Parekh, B. (1995). Gandhi’s political philosophy. New Delhi: Ajanta Book International. Parel, A. (2006). Gandhi’s philosophy and the quest for harmony. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ———. (ed.). (2009). Gandhi: Hind Swaraj and other writings. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Patel, S. (1988). Construction and reconstruction of woman in Gandhi. Economic and Political Weekly, 33 (8): 377–87. Prasad, M.M. (2004). The natives are looking: Cinema and censorship in colonial India. In Leslie Moran, Elena Loizidou, Ian Christie and Emma Sandon (Eds), Law’s moving image (pp. 161–72). London: Cavendish. Ramachandran, S. (2006, April 2). Hey Ram! So many films on Gandhi! The Telegraph. Retrieved from http://www. telegraphindia. com/1060402/asp/look/ story_6041732. asp. Rudolph, L.I. and Rudolph, S.H. (1967). The modernity of tradition: Political development in India. Chicago: Chicago University Press. ———. (2006). Postmodern Gandhi and other essays: Gandhi in the world and at home. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Sahasrabudhey, Sunil. (2008). The machine. In A. Raghuramaraju (Ed.), Debating Gandhi: A reader (pp. 175–94). New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Upadhyaya, Prakash Chandra (1989). A Celebration of the Gandhian Alternative. Economic and Political Weekly 24 (48): 2655–2662. Visvanathan, Shiv. (2008). A Carnival for Science: Essays on Science, Technology and Development. New Delhi: Oxford University Press.

7 Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India: In Search of a Gandhian Antidote to Violence* Sumit Mukherji India in the new millennium is confronted with a plethora of problems, the most menacing among which, is the challenge of terrorist militancy. Terrorism with its portentous national and international ramifications, has posed a formidable problem for policy makers. The alarming frequency with which, terrorist acts have been perpetrated in a number of places in the last two years, has created consternation not only in the political echelons but has also infected the common people with a fear psychosis. The series of terrorist attacks twice in Delhi in quick succession and also in Jaipur, Ahmedabad, Bengaluru, Assam and finally culminating in the diabolical Mumbai carnage of November 26, 2008 has raised questions about the credibility of the intelligence agencies and also highlighted the failure of the state to formulate an adequate policy to counter terrorism. The situation has been rendered more grave by the ceaseless operation of secessionist militant movements in India like the ULFA insurgency in Assam and the KLO in North Bengal both of which are based on the ideology of violence with the ultimate end of carving out a separate sovereign state. Such movements have adopted violent methods of struggle like individual and mass murder, ambush, abduction, extortion and intimidation thereby sapping at the roots of unity and threatening India with the spectre of Balkanization. In West Bengal, the Maoist movement has shaken the administration out of its torpor through a sequence of violent acts. The joint operation of the state and the Centre has been unable to penetrate the jungles where the Maoist insurgents are entrenched. It would be no exaggeration to say that in recent times no other militant movement has unsettled the state administrations with such telling effect. The seminal question that arises here is whether the answer to * Earlier published in Jadavpur Journal of International Relations, Vol. 13, Issue 1, 2009.

184 Swaraj and the Reluctant State violence is violence. That is to say whether a movement based on violence can be curbed by violent counteraction. It may be recalled that in the decade of the seventies the Naxalite movement literally unleashed a reign of terror in West Bengal. It was ruthlessly suppressed by the then Congress government. In view of the circumstances prevailing at that time there was perhaps no alternative to the application of brute force to eliminate a band of romantic rebels who were determined to submerge the state in a whirlpool of blood. However after more than three decades, one witnesses the resurgence of the Naxalite movement in a new form that is the Maoist movement. History this time has not repeated itself and the state government is decidedly at the receiving end. In the centenary anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi’s Hind Swaraj it is worthwhile to ponder whether in the fight against terrorism, Gandhian non-violence can be experimented with. Is it possible to transform terrorists through the power of love? Can any genuine change of heart be brought about through indoctrination in the Gandhian philosophy of non-violence? The present paper seeks to argue that the condition for any change in the terrorists is that the policy makers must change themselves first. 1. Case for an Orientational Change While confronting the challenge of terrorism the policy makers have a number of policy options available to them from which they have to make a rational choice for policy formulation in tune with situational exigencies. Here they must shed some of the common inhibitions and predilections which often create a predisposition for or against a particular course of action. They must come to grips with the reality that terrorism is a multifaceted phenomenon. It is the product of a constellation of forces which varies from place to place. No one factor can by itself cause terrorism. A particular factor can be of primary importance in a specific case while in other cases, it may have a secondary or even minimal role to play. Thus despite an enormous proliferation of literature on the subject, a universal theory of terrorism has proved elusive. According to an expert, there is no universal definition of terrorism except the broad consensus that it is a complex and heterogeneous phenomenon and that there is no typical profile of a terrorist which makes identification and detection of terrorists difficult.1 Since terrorism is a multicausal rather than a monocausal phenomenon, the process of countering it must also be multipronged. Different types of policy are needed for different types and brands of terrorists. Moreover in many terrorist organisations, a distinction must be made between the hard core elements who are ideologically sensitive and those who join either out of frustration caused by poverty,

Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India 185 unemployment and social injustice or out of momentary impulse. Two separate sets of policy are required for leaders and cadres as the former are ideologically motivated unlike the latter that are devoid of any ideological consciousness. While situational specificity determines the appropriate response to terrorism no policy can be framed without understanding the roots of terrorism which are multifarious. In the case of the recruitment of ULFA and KLO militants (at least the lower level cadres) poverty and unemployment figure prominently, but in the case of the militants of Jammu and Kashmir the ideology of Jihad is the main propellant along with state terrorism. The factors behind terrorism should be viewed as intertwined rather than isolated. Economic deprivation is not sufficient by itself to spur one to commit terrorist acts but may do so if bolstered by the force of ideology. Thus policy making must also be in combinations. The policy makers must approach the problem with a flexible mindset and desist from envisaging a straitjacketed solution to the problem. They should disabuse their minds of any dogmatic fixation about the efficacy of violence as the only means to curb terrorism. At the outset, the Gandhian alternative to counter terrorism might appear a utopian innovation. If the militant outfits are not willing to respond to the call of the state government for negotiation through dialogue and continue with bloodshed, the government cannot be expected to respond with love and non-violence. This might be interpreted as a sign of weakness. Though according to Gandhi, the force of non-violence lies in its inner strength yet it is incapable of countering the brute force of the militants by itself. The success of non-violence requires a congenial setting. Appeals to militants to desist from violence are more likely to prove abortive because violence too has a power of its own and is able to instil in young militants a sense of confidence and exalted self-consciousness. Inner transformation through non-violence is too unrealistic an idea. However while it would be preposterous to advocate undiluted non-violence to combat the terrorists particularly in the initial stage yet some of its elements can certainly be experimented with in the later stage. Even then, it will cut no ice with the hardcore militants but persuasion may work with those who join militant groups out of a momentary impulse and are not ideologically extremist. Here non-violence can serve as a policy alternative. The framework of policy analysis must incorporate all alternatives in terms of their relative rather than absolute feasibility. Non-violence can play at least a subsidiary role which the policy makers can ignore only at their peril. 2. Search for the Roots of Terrorism The response to terrorism must be as multifaceted as the phenomenon of terrorism itself. Thus it is first of all necessary to unravel the variegated

186 Swaraj and the Reluctant State roots of terrorism. It is a major question whether poverty motivates people to go in for revolutionary changes. On this point Eric Hoffer’s answer is clearly in the negative. According to him, poverty is a barrier to instability because those who are concerned with the immediate goal of the next meal will not bother about transformation of society.2 Hoffer’s theorisation of the problem provides important insights. He argues that discontent by itself does not create a desire for change. Other factors have to be present before discontent turns into disaffection. One of these is a sense of power.3 Those who are awed by their surroundings do not think of change, no matter how miserable their condition. His view compares favorably with that of Samuel Huntington according to whom, the probability of insurgency is greater in countries that are not poor. He also argues that violence is concentrated in the economically developed areas. Referring to India, he notes that violence usually occurs in the industrialised areas. He quotes Hoffer to prove that the poor are too demoralised for revolutionary activity. Referring to Tocqueville he says that revolutionary upheavals are preceded by economic prosperity rather than underdevelopment as exemplified by the French Revolution. The reputed Indian economist Amartya Sen observes that, ‘The increasing tendency in recent years is to justify policies of poverty removal on the ground that this is the surest way to prevent political strife and turmoil’.4 Sen admits that, ‘Destitution can of course produce provocation for defying established laws and rules,’5 but he adds in the same vein as Hoffer that ‘It need not give people the initiative, courage and actual ability to do anything very violent. Destitution can be accompanied not only by economic debility but also by political helplessness. A starving wretch can be too frail and too dejected to fight and battle, and even to protest and holler. It is thus not surprising that often enough intense and widespread suffering and misery have been accompanied by unusual peace and silence.’6 Sen notes that there was no burst of violence in Bengal after the devastating famine of 1943 and so also there was no violence after the Irish famine of the 1840s. Sen makes the important point that, ‘Neglect can be reason enough for resentment but a sense of encroachment, degradation and humiliation can be even easier to mobilise for rebellion and revolt.’7 In this connection he says that ‘Leaders like Osama bin Laden do not to say the least suffer from poverty. And yet the movements that are led by well-off leaders typically do rely on a sense of injustice, inequality and humiliation that the established world order is seen as having produced. Poverty and economic inequality may not instantly breed terrorism or influence the leaders of terrorist organisations, but nevertheless they can help to create rich recruiting grounds for the foot soldiers of the terrorist camps.’8 In this context one may recall the view of Rajni Kothari that the major

Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India 187 failure of the Indian state is distributive, that is in providing minimum conditions of living for the people, removing massive disparities in living conditions, transforming a social structure based on the principle of inequality into one based on the principle of equality. According to him, one major flaw of the Indian state was that in its simultaneous attempt at national integration, democratic consensus making and economic development, the Indian leadership adopted the approach of what may be called aggregative performance. It sought to build the national state at various levels, spread the institutional framework to which it had given rise, and develop over the various regions, a physical and economic infrastructure to initiate a planning process for generating overall growth rates. The leadership hoped that as all this spread and seeped downwards, everyone including the lowest placed would be able to participate in the national endeavour and benefit from it. No systematic effort was made to ensure that this did in fact happen. Distributive justice was not built into the nation building design and into the development model. Very little attention was paid to ensure distributive performance. The presumption was that aggregative performance would necessarily give rise to distributive performance and all states will get involved in the administrative and territorial framework, get drawn into electoral politics and get their share of the national economic cake. That there are inbuilt constraints on such a progression from aggregative to distributive performance was not adequately perceived.9 Kothari does not relate the failure of the Indian state to provide distributive justice with the spurt in terrorist activity in different regions, but argues strongly that neglect of the distributive dimension is bound to affect seriously the integrity and credibility of the state. He also refers to ‘considerable tumult over issues of poverty and unemployment.’10 Atul Kohli remarks in the same vein as Rajni Kothari that, ‘Over the past two decades, a legitimate and moderately stable state that was confident of its ability to lay out India’s agenda for socio-economic change has evolved into a reactive state.’11 However, in the theoretical literature on terrorism a plurality of factors has come to be emphasised and the colonialism referred to above is not viewed as merely economic. Other factors must also be examined on their own merit though they may have an underlying connection with the economic factor. At the same time, no policy against terrorism can dispense with the economic factor. Sen correctly says that, ‘A more equitable sharing of the benefits of globalisation can contribute to long run preventive measures both against the recruitment of the cannon fodder of terrorism and against the creation of a general climate where terrorism is tolerated and sometimes even celebrated.’12 There is a broad consensus among experts that, ‘While there is not a simple, direct causal

188 Swaraj and the Reluctant State link between poverty and terrorism, lack of development, poor governance and a sense of desperation, alienation and hopelessness provide conditions in which terrorism can flourish and which can be exploited by extremists.’13 While the economic factor is of vital importance as a catalyst of militancy, the ideological factor is also of special significance. Occasionally, it works independently and elsewhere in synchronisation with the economic factor. While economic deprivation forces people to opt for the path of militancy it is doubtful whether poverty can by itself explain the propensity to join militant organisations. A minimum level of ideological commitment and motivation can canalise the frustration resulting from poverty towards anti state militant behavior. Indoctrination in a radical economic ideology aiming at a total transformation of the iniquitous socio-economic structure provides added force and strength to poverty and unemployment as fomenters of militancy. Initiation to an extremist political ideology combined with economic distress also produces a more powerful effect than the latter alone is capable of. Ideology provides a set of beliefs that guide and justify a series of behavioural mandates. Belief produces meaning and purpose and above all a deep assurance where there is no scope for doubt, criticism or skepticism. It signifies a common and broadly agreed upon set of rules to which an individual subscribes which help to regulate and determine behaviour linked to beliefs, values, principles and goals. Keane is of the opinion that, ‘For terrorism to succeed, it demands a rigid adherence to a simple idea. The mind that questions, debates, opens itself to challenging ideas will prove a source of division for a terrorist movement in the heat of the battle. Sticking to a rigid orthodoxy offers security and justification to people committing acts of terror.14 Hoffer considers the ideological mandate as inviolable and unquestionable. Marsella notes that ideology provides a sense of belief which reduces uncertainty and the hallmark of this syndrome is the inability to tolerate doubt and uncertainty.15 Taylor explicates the point further saying that ideology controls behaviour by providing a set of contingencies that link immediate behavior that is violence to distant outcomes like new states and after life rewards. These are powerful reinforcers and motivators.16 Stitka and Mullen develop the point further referring to moral mandates as specific attitude positions or stands that people develop out of a moral conviction that something is right or wrong, moral or immoral.17 Such mandates share the characteristics of other strong attitudes like extremity, certainty and importance but have an added action and motivational component as they are imbued with a moral conviction. Rapoport refers to the divine mandate which is

Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India 189 potentially the most concerning feature of the extremist driven by religious ideology. He alludes to the transcendental source of holy terror where the deity is perceived as being directly involved in the determination of means and ends and exemplifies his point with reference to Nasra Hassan’s study of 250 Palestinian terrorists who felt that their actions were sanctioned by the divinely revealed religion of Islam.18 This compares favourably with the testimony of arrested militants connected with the Delhi bomb blast of September 13, 2008. It appears that militants who are religious zealots have no sense of repentance for their acts and their actions are based on a militant interpretation of Islam. One of them Zia-Ur-Rehman went on record saying that, ‘If Allah wants, I’ll bomb the market where my mother buys vegetables. She will be sent to paradise.’19 He added, ‘Whatever knowledge I had of Islam, I have no regrets about what I did.’ Another arrested militant Mohemmed Shekeel reportedly said, ‘No regrets. It’s Allah’s test of our fortitude.’ He added ‘I experienced in me an awakening after I committed my life to Allah. Now nothing scares me. Life and death are the same’.20 In any analysis of a militant movement, the ideological component assumes significance as it provides the militant with an instrument to legitimise his actions. Ideology can serve to destroy all psychological deterrents to violence. Extremist ideologies stimulate militant behavior particularly by appealing to religious instinct which is the most vulnerable point. Political and economic ideologies aiming at radical change do not always produce an equal instant effect because the role of religion as a decisive factor in human life is a reality. Movements based on a secular ideology might display violence in equal magnitude but the cadre mobilisation process is likely to be more time-consuming. In terms of relative importance, ideology would appear a greater stimulant to militancy than poverty because poverty often produces a dampening effect on the mind manifested in fatalistic resignation as depicted by Hoffer. It is not sufficient by itself to provide a moral justification for actions like killing though it may create disenchantment. It may act as a legitimiser of violence in the restricted and negative sense while ideology is a direct and positive legitimising catalyst. An important dimension of terrorist behaviour is rooted in their psychology. Terrorism is essentially based on a psychology of revenge and anger which often assumes the form of vengeance emanating from an obsessive drive. The quest for a paradise, real or imaginary and also the aspiration for status and respect also motivate militant behavior. A feeling of remediable injustice based on grievances economic, ethnic, racial, legal, political and social constitutes the foundation of terrorist behaviour.21 Closely linked to the feeling of injustice is the experience

190 Swaraj and the Reluctant State of personal abuse and humiliation. In Northern Ireland young adolescents who were themselves terrorised ultimately became terrorists.22 According to another specialist on the subject, terrorists have the experience of a traumatised childhood when they suffered chronic physical abuse and profound emotional humiliation.23 State terrorism often creates childhood trauma and breeds terrorism by breeding a psychology of revenge. In 1996, several surrendered militants in India joined forces with the Army to fight militants and came to be known as Ikhwanis. Mustafa Khan who was an innocent child somehow got implicated in an attack on the Ikhwanis who regularly visited his house and harassed him even before the reported attack took place. After the attack they came to his house and beat up his mother Shameema Begum. This went way beyond Mustafa’s tolerance. He was arrested in 1999 and soon learnt that his childhood friend Shakeel was killed by the Ikhwanis shortly after his arrest. He himself had to undergo cruel torture in prison and was made to sponge down the blood soaked vehicle on which Shakeel had been tortured to death. After his release, the Ikhwanis asked him to report regularly at the 34 Rashtriya Rifles Camp in Beerwa town of Central Kashmir together with his mother. Khan found this humiliation impossible to digest and secretly left home to join the Hizbul-Mujahideen with the intention of giving a tough time to the counter insurgents. On July 30, 2001, he was shot dead and thousands of people attended his funeral. His native village mourned him not for his martyrdom but for the painful tales of his lost childhood.24 One of the potent psychological stimulants to terrorism is the longing for an identity. Once someone joins a terrorist organisation his individual identity is merged in the larger group identity. As a member of a terrorist group, a person is able to fill up a vacuum in his life which he is unable to do as a member of society. ‘Membership in a terrorist group provides a sense of identity or belonging for those personalities whose underlying sense of identity is flawed.’25 Terrorists are motivated by a desperate quest for personal meaning constantly harping on the self addressed question ‘Who am I?’ This is the main constitutive element of identity politics. ‘Belonging to the terrorist group becomes the most important component of their psychological identity.’26 It is important to note that people join terrorist organisations at a crucial psychological moment in their life. According to the findings of two experts, ‘These young people find themselves at a time in their life when they are looking into their future with the hope of engaging in meaningful behaviour that will be satisfying and get them ahead. Their objective circumstances including opportunities for advancement are virtually non-existent, they find some direction for their religious collective identity, but the desperately disadvantaged state of their community leaves them feeling

Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India 191 marginalised and lost without a clearly defined collective identity. Terrorist organisations fulfil another important psychological need in frustrated and alienated individuals by providing them with a sense of belonging. For individuals recruited from the margins of society the terrorist camp represents the first real sense of belonging after a lifetime of rejection and the group becomes a family which the terrorists never had.27 They are often influenced to join seeking solidarity with family, friends and acquaintances.28 The terrorist groups capitalise on the longing for a sense of belonging and the initial attraction for the young militant is to the group or community of believers rather than an abstract ideology of violence.29 One powerful stimulant of terrorist behavior is frustration which generates aggression which impels one to perpetrate terrorist acts. The Frustration-Aggression theory postulates that frustration is the result of non-fulfilment of political, social and personal needs. According to this theory, aggression always produces frustration and vice versa. Empirical research has however disproved the second hypothesis. It is aversive frustration which alone leads to aggression.30 Aggression can occur even in the absence of frustration. It is when frustration generates anger which arouses aggression that one feels inclined to commit terrorist acts. Even anger can be a transitory phenomenon and the aggression engendered by it is equally so. It is sustained anger and deep-rooted aggression that explains terrorist behaviour. Transition to terrorism is rarely sudden or abrupt. It is a step by step process beginning with an awareness of oppression that is social and hence remediable followed by the realisation that it is possible to act against it through self help by violence. At this stage all the social and psychological barriers inhibiting aggressive behaviour are eroded. The major research question that arises here is whether terrorists at this stage become psychopaths. The available literature on the subject testifies to the total lack of empathy of the terrorists to the suffering of others, but they are not mentally unstable or ill. Crenshaw found them disturbingly normal. Hesken after his study of the members of the Irish Republican Army found that they were not emotionally disturbed.31 Taylor noted in the same vein that the mental illness theory was of little utility.32 Macaulay and Sageman observed that serious psychopathology among terrorists was rare.33 Friedland too has expressed his decided view that there is no compelling evidence to prove that deviant behavior is a function of psychopathology.34 Corrado goes a step further and says that terrorists are not dysfunctional or pathological. Ruby calls it another form of politically motivated violence perpetrated by rational lucid people with valid motives.35 Silke makes the point more explicit saying that a trend has emerged which asserts that terrorists possess

192 Swaraj and the Reluctant State many of the traits of pathological personalities but not the actual clinical disorders. He adds that psychopathological disorder may be found among some terrorists, but the findings supporting the pathology model are of poor quality. In contrast, the evidence suggesting terrorist normality is more plentiful and of better quality. Thus the policy makers must deconstruct the conventional image of the terrorist while devising any policy to counter terrorism. Without stepping into the shoes of monocausal determinism, it may be asserted that terrorism is primarily a psychological and secondarily a political problem. The factors abetting terrorism may be political but the acts of terrorism have deeply psychological underpinnings. The roots of terrorism lie in deep seated grievances, but in their attempt to remedy the same by effecting radical changes, terrorists are prepared to sacrifice human lives including their own. The seminal question is that while the right to kill cannot be legitimised under any circumstances yet would it be wise to counter terrorism with violence or should one search for a non-violent alternative? 3. Utility and Futility of Violence The policy establishment is often guided by the belief that the back of the terrorists can be broken by military operations. The fundamental assumption on which this conviction is based is that no militant organisation is capable of continuing its violent struggle indefinitely and is sure to be decimated in the course of time. Sustained military operations can infect a large chunk of the militants with a feeling that they would gain nothing by their violent acts. The success of Operations Rhino and Bajrang against the ULFA in Assam and Operation All Clear launched against the KLO by the government of Bhutan cannot be denied. At the same time it is high time one realised that military action can emasculate a militant movement but not permanently. Thus within one year after Operation All Clear, the Greater Coochbehar movement escalated in North Bengal. The recent arrest of the Chairman of the ULFA Arabinda Rajkhowa has undoubtedly set the clock back for the organisation, but it would be sheer foolishness to think that the ULFA has been obliterated. It is continuing its frantic search for allies and according to reports of the Central Intelligence Agency a section of the ULFA is trying to cultivate rapport with the United National Liberation Front of Manipur and another section has been trying to tie up with the Khaplang faction of the National Socialist Council of Nagaland.36 The People’s Liberation Army of Manipur has promised ULFA every kind of support and help. On December 9, 2009, five militant organisations of the North East, namely the ULFA, National Democratic Front of Bodoland, National Liberation Front of Tripura, Tripura People’s

Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India 193 Democratic Front and the Manipur People’s Liberation Front announced their agenda for joint action. They have also threatened the Bangladesh Government with dire consequences for assisting in the capture of top level ULFA leaders. The exiled ULFA leader Paresh Baruah has stated in an interview that unless the issue of Assam’s sovereignty was included in the agenda for talks with the government there was no question of talking to the government. He also stated categorically that though some people had left the ULFA losing all hope for the struggle, but there was no split in the organisation and there was total consensus on the issue of sovereignty in the Central Committee of the ULFA.37 B. Mahanta, Inspector General of Police, Assam admitted that the ULFA had suffered a huge setback, but there was no scope to relax because its killing machine was largely intact.38 Paresh Baruah still enjoys an iconic image in Assam. He is in constant touch with China and reports have ben received that Beijing might train a new group of ULFA recruits. Baruah is also ceaselessly trying to form a liaison with the Maoists of Nepal who are on the lookout for fishing in the troubled waters of the North East. Thus though the ULFA has its back to the wall its back is far from broken. At the same time, it cannot be denied that today the ULFA is on the defensive.39 Contrary to the claim of Baruah, it is a fact that a section of the ULFA is in favour of a compromise. They are not hardliners like Rajkhowa and Baruah. They have offered to sit at the negotiating table even without Baruah. Mrinal Hazarika, the leader of this group reportedly has the backing of 40 per cent of the ULFA.40 Another truth is that unlike the top level leaders the majority of the ULFA cadres were not ideologically sensitive and in this sense a split has indeed occurred in the ULFA. The ULFA and the KLO were paralysed by military action because their ideological base was very weak as proved by cases of large scale desertion by disillusioned cadres in the hope of rejoining the mainstream. Notably, no radical religious ideology has motivated militancy in North Bengal and Assam as in the case of Jammu and Kashmir. The latter are less amenable to offers of peaceful negotiation than the former. Had the ideology of Jihad percolated the ranks of the ULFA and the KLO they would have shown greater resilience against military operations. For religion has a force and appeal of its own which renders indoctrination easier than by antistate propaganda based on reminders about poverty and underdevelopment. To counter militancy spurred by a crusading propellant, one has to look beyond military force. Martha Crenshaw rightly says that, ‘We need to go beyond mere coercion; the challenge is how to halt these people who have already started to use terrorism and to convince those who have not yet started by showing that terrorism doesn’t pay.’ Recently, the police of Jharkhand have embarked

194 Swaraj and the Reluctant State on a counter-terrorist drive using posters and cartoons juxtaposing a bright future for the youth with the dark and uncertain prospect of joining a militant camp and offering them a rational choice.41 This is a stepping stone to psychological sensitisation of the youth against the menace of terrorism. However for those who have joined terrorism, military operations have a relative rather than absolute value. They instil in the minds of misguided youths a sense of skepticism about the utility of violence. Many of them come to realize its futility and decide to return to the mainstream. This is the defining moment of their life which the government must utilise. It must leave no stone unturned to bring about a metamorphic change in the militants and ensure their rehabilitation in society. Here a process of reverse sensitisation through exposure to the Gandhian dictum of non-violence would counteract the impact of the earlier process of brainwashing. However it is highly doubtful whether it would pay dividends in case of the hardcore elements. At the same time it is also true that if a split can be created between the extremist and volatile elements it is sure to weaken the organisation because despite all external help no organisation can continue armed struggle against the government for an indefinite period. It is the lower level cadres whom the government should target for sensitization in non-violence because it is possible to convince them about the ultimate futility of violence. In recent times it has been observed that if minor criminals and diehard militants are housed together in prison, the former communicate with the latter and draw them into their fold through allurements. Thus a special jail for the hardcore militants is being contemplated at Majuli the largest river island of the world in Assam.42 This would isolate the former from the ordinary criminals. A distinction ought to be made between hard and soft militants and the latter should be targeted first and the former later on. In the case of soft militants, mainstreaming through rehabilitation is very much possible provided this is done honestly. There are instances from Jammu and Kashmir to indicate that many surrendered militants are returning to their former path due to the failure of the government to live up to its promises. In many cases there is disenchantment about the treatment being meted out to militants. A police officer has testified that surrendered militants are being harassed and interrogated after any militant act is committed and asked to report before military and paramilitary departments which they find humiliating. There are also reports that their services are requisitioned for military camps. Many surrendered militants who were provided jobs in police service, have left because of meagre emoluments. Promises of financial help have not been honoured and thus while 25,000 militants surrendered in the last twenty years as revealed by the police records, a large chunk of

Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India 195 them are returning to the path of militancy.43 It would be impossible to convince even soft militants about the futility of violence unless they find returning to the mainstream economically rewarding. In such cases poverty once again becomes an important instrumental factor in reverting militants to their former path which is more lucrative. No psychological transformation is possible without economic amelioration. When disillusionment with life in militant camps creates an inclination to return to the mainstream, there is also the expectation of a better life. When this is belied, it creates a new wave of disillusionment which negates the effect of the former wave. A renewed desire to rejoin militant camps is the inevitable result not propelled so much by renewed faith in the efficacy of violence but rather the conviction that something is better than nothing. This is the process of recycling of militancy. 4. In Search of a Metamorphic Panacea: From the Gandhian perspective, psychological welfare may be waged against potential and actual militancy. The former implies assuaging the wounded feelings of communities that feel neglected and marginalised. An agenda of economic amelioration may demotivate the impulsive and frustrated youth from becoming militants in future. Psychological countermeasures include the equitable distribution of power and wealth and the alleviation of social oppression. The latter aims at effecting an inner transformation of arrested militants. Military Psychiatry has not been extensively experimented with in India despite its potential for reducing the propensity of militancy. The underlying assumption here is that the perpetrator of violence is not always rational and quite often violence does not serve the interests of the person who may be unable to make an accurate assessment of risk benefit factor owing to impairment of the reality function of the ego.44 According to the aforesaid view, biological factors play their part in motivating acts of militancy. Higher levels of androgen appear to be associated with increased rates of violence. Impaired cerebral function resulting from organic syndromes and drug intoxication often interferes with the individual’s capacity to assess external reality and to evaluate the benefits of violence. The high correlation between alcoholic intoxication and violent behaviour is probably due in large part to poor risk perception. Impairment of the Reality Function appears to play a significant role in the genesis of violence.45 Two eminent experts in Military Psychiatry have provided a threefold psycho-social profile of militants consisting of medulla or inner core, cortex and epicortex. The Medulla consists of individuals with sociopathic traits and impairment of reality function. It fosters an autistic attitude manifested in insulation

196 Swaraj and the Reluctant State from emotional remorse, frequent alcohol abuse, pronounced sadistic traits, sexual sadism, etc. In this category is included the criminal psychopath with whom the absence of a feeling of guilt coexists with paucity of emotions and bland resistance to even subtle attempts at reasoning. Ideological delusions are sustained by paleologic process of internal validation. In the category of the Cortex are included those who are better educated but emotionally unstable and sensitive to loss of love and esteem of others. They are romantic idealists with feelings of guilt and self doubt whose neurotic dependency needs are fulfilled by an apparently powerful leadership. Here the Reality Function is partly impaired as contact with reality is not lost and return to reason is possible if they can be made aware of the true nature of their sociopathic leadership. Some of the idealists of Jammu and Kashmir have experienced a painful process of disillusionment. The Epicortex includes an amorphous mass of curious, credulous, petty offenders who try to find some meaning in the movement for their otherwise shallow and aimless lives. They have no real commitment to a cause and can at most create a temporary law and order problem. Here one finds reflections of Hoffer’s specified category of ‘The Bored’ who are more sympathetic to mass movements than the exploited and the oppressed. The consciousness of a barren, meaningless existence is the main fountainhead of boredom.46 Those from the category of Epicortex who join militant movements do so out of unrelieved boredom. Brigadier Dr D. Saldhanha and D.S. Goel provided the psychosocial profile of nineteen militants from Punjab and eighty-nine from Jammu and Kashmir during a survey (1992-1996) and found that twenty-one belonged to the Medulla category and 7 and 3 respectively to Cortex and Epicortex. According to them psychiatric intervention is more useful with individuals rather than groups and those who are likely to benefit from therapy gain little from violence and cannot define a clear purpose for the same. They suggest that drugs like Carbamazepine, Proplanohol and Lithium may be applied to those located in the medullary zone.47 It is however not sure whether it can produce a mere tranquilising effect or act as a transformative catalyst. The traditional theories of Criminology cannot be applied to terrorists and it is much easier to melt the heart of ordinary criminals rather than terrorists particularly those who are ideologically hard core elements. They are reluctant to speak out and anyone venturing to influence them must be prepared for adverse reaction or alternatively getting brainwashed by the militants themselves. The government should form a team of specialised experts and initiate a process of brainstorming to counter militants with ingenious psychological devices. This requires a combination of the heart

Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India 197 and the brain. A background of behavioural social science, psychology etc. is indispensable for the trained personnel. Secondly, one has to be conversant with the ideology in which terrorists are indoctrinated because they require counter-brainwashing. This is a challenging task where ratiocinative skills must be used most persuasively to dismantle the convictional base of the terrorists. Ordinary criminals may be won over by the Gandhian method of counselling by love but not the terrorists because their mindset is different. Policy makers should categorise militants under different groups and provide for specific typologies of psychiatric intervention. The chances of success are moderately high for those who join out of momentary impulse or in search of an escape route from poverty and unemployment but significantly less for those inspired by a militant religious ideology. Prof Deepak Gupta of San Diego University distinguishes between true believers who act for power prestige and money and captive participants who see there is too much to lose if they don’t participate. The latter should be selectively targeted first because they do not have the inflexible mindset of the hardcore elements and are amenable to reform and rehabilitation. An expert on the North East has observed that the leaders, middle level commanders and also the senior cadres are not misled youth with ideals but hardened criminals who have been past masters in murder, genocide, extortion, abduction, espionage, sabotage, narcotics as well as architects of mass graves. Surrenders must therefore be very judiciously accepted by the government or security forces. Those guilty of crimes must be tried and punished and only those who are not so must be rehabilitated not by giving contracts as was done to SULFA, but instead be put through a course of psychological orientation and inducted into security forces.48 There is a flaw in this argument because criminals are not hard core militants. The surrendered ULFA cadres may be guilty of heinous acts but they cannot be characterised as ordinary criminals. Indira Goswami the noted writer and mediator between the ULFA and the government categorically stated that the surrendered ULFA men who are in constant touch with her, cannot be called criminals.49 It is regrettable that most members of the SULFA who are now leading normal lives apparently as thriving businessmen, still enjoy an ambiguous status as the criminal cases against them have not yet been withdrawn. 50 Moreover the majority of them are ideologically inarticulate. By punishing them on the basis of their antecedents we lose the chance of reforming those who are receptive to reform thereby increasing the chances of their rejoining the cycle of militancy in future. If their ideological sensitivity is marginal, then they are certainly amenable to psychiatric intervention. This is an experiment worth undertaking based on an unshakeable faith in the infinite perfectibility of human nature.

198 Swaraj and the Reluctant State From the Gandhian angle, efforts should be made to win over the militants, that is the soft ones by the power of love. Services of organisations like the Ramakrishna Mission and Bharat Sevashram Sangha may be utilised for this purpose. However the state cannot abdicate its responsibility and a task of such magnitude cannot be left to NGO s alone. The good work done by the NGO s can be undone by apathy on the part of the state. The ultimate onus for the rehabilitation of the militants has to be shouldered by the state and the power of love must be the cornerstone of its policy designed to counter militancy. For if the surrendered militants undertake to embark on a new life the response from the state should be reciprocal. From the testimony of Indira Goswami it is known that SULFA cadres have done commendable welfare and rural reconstruction work in Saraipani village 25 Km from Jorhat. They have set up schools, orphanages and projects for weavers. Jugal Bhuiyan, their leader has testified that the SULFA cadres were inspired by the ideals of Mahatma Gandhi in their mission for inculcating self-reliance among the poor.51 It is imperative for the state to ensure that arrested militants are not dealt with enmity but amity. Recently a KLO leader Dhananjay Barman was wounded in a clash with the Assam Police and after arrest, was admitted in a private nursing home at Bongaigaon. The total medical bill amounted to more than Rs 2 lakh but neither the Army nor the police took any initiative in paying the bill. The family of Dhananjay approached the Chief Minister of West Bengal for help saying that Dhananjay was willing to return to the mainstream. The Inspector General of Police North Bengal, K.M. Tamta reacted saying that since the incident occurred in Assam, the responsibility lay with Assam Police. The Government of West Bengal can at most think in terms of unofficial financial assistance.52 This attitude appears more legalistic than humanitarian. Since the militant who is a resident of Tufangunj in North Bengal wants to return to the mainstream it would be both a moral and practical step for the state government to provide him help rather than pass the buck on to Assam. If the astronomical medical bill is not paid the militant concerned will never forget the harassment and nurse a deepseated resentment against the state. In that case he cannot be blamed if he resolves to return to the militant path once more. It is here that the power of love can be used to effect the desired change of heart. Medicines serve as a palliative but then real metamorphic effect is produced through love alone. The penchant for violence will go if the mentality of violence goes once and for all. This requires a display of love, patience and forbearance by the state which should be both compassionate and dispassionate. It should be inspired by the spirit of reformative rather than retributive justice.

Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India 199 5. Introspection and Retrospection The policy makers should disabuse their minds of the fixation that terrorism is a purely political act and appreciate its psychological overtones. Secondly, they should realise that military force is not a universal panacea and non-violent options are not necessarily negative. Cortright correctly says that, ‘To prevent armed violence, it is necessary to understand why communities are in conflict and to address the underlying grievances and conditions that fuel violence.... In addressing the terrorist threat this approach means recognising the injustices that motivate support for militant groups and enabling affected communities to resolve grievances through democratic political means rather than terrorist violence.’53 He adds that this approach should not be confused with appeasement or defeatism but viewed as an attempt to reduce the appeal of extremist methods by providing channels of non-violent engagement for those who sympathise with terrorist aims. Hard core militants must be separated from their social base by addressing the injustices that motivate support for militancy. Cortright categorically repudiates the predominant assumption of the Pentagon officials that the surest guarantee against militancy is to kill as many militants as possible. Actually the reverse is true and, ‘The more the United States attempts to impose its will by military force, the greater the terrorist threat becomes.’ 54 In a conference titled ‘Fighting Terrorism for Humanity’ convened by the International Peace Academy and the Government of Norway in New York on September 22, 2003, the then UN Secretary General Kofi Annan remarked that, ‘We delude ourselves if we think military force alone can defeat terrorism. Terrorism will only be defeated if we act to solve the political disputes and long standing conflicts which generate support for it. If we do not, we shall find ourselves acting as a recruiting sergeant for the very terrorists we seek to suppress.’ Senator Richard Lugar, Chairman of the US Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, echoed the same sentiments saying that military responses can have a limited impact and can breed more terrorists. Mr Kofi Annan made a valid point saying that, ‘We must never in the fight against terrorism, lower our standards to theirs. States therefore need to ensure that in fighting terrorists, they respect the limits which international humanitarian law places on the use of force. The failure to do so can erode our shared values. Paradoxically terrorist groups may actually be sustained when in responding to their outrages governments cross the line and commit outrages themselves whether it is ethnic cleansing, the indiscriminate bombardment of cities, the torture of prisoners, targeted assassinations, or accepting the death of innocent civilians as collateral damage. These acts are not only illegal and unjustifiable. They may also be exploited by terrorists to gain new

200 Swaraj and the Reluctant State followers and generate cycles of violence in which they thrive.’ A recent case may be cited where the Jawans of Assam Rifles, surrounded a band of militants affiliated to the military outfit of Nagaland NSCN (IM) who illegally established a camp in the Seroy village of the Ukhrul district of Manipur. They however did not open fire and displayed commendable patience in persuading the militants to evacuate peacefully. They even provided food to the militants, an object lesson in Gandhigiri.55 The militants refused to comply at first and made it a prestige issue but relented at the end. Though it is not certain whether it melted their hearts, yet it is an example worthy of emulation. According to an IPS officer, ‘Militants deliberately provoke security forces to fire in order to gain mileage nationally and internationally. Therefore, the forces should not be caught in this trap and must act with tact and imagination.... . liquidation of terrorists is not the answer. Human rights cannot be violated and the majesty of law is always supreme. After all, we are pitted against our own citizens and we cannot kill them by adopting the killer’s policy which is not the panacea to terrorism.’ 56 The same policy of Gandhian forbearance should be observed in the case of arrested terrorists. It is easy to torture a terrorist to extract information about the hideouts of terrorists as well as their future plans but if he is released later by court verdict, the memories of torture shall never be obliterated from their minds and, ‘All the opportunity which there was to remove his indoctrination, would be lost.’57 The interrogators should desist from insulting or embarrassing the arrested terrorist and never criticise or humiliate him. They should make it a point to listen to them so that they can unburden themselves and give a patient hearing to their grievances. ‘Listening to what the terrorist has to say is half the problem solved.’58 A humane approach is likely to succeed albeit in moderate doses with the captive participants rather than the true believers. Whether the latter can be influenced similarly, is not certain but as the Nobel Peace Prize Laureate Elie Wiesel has said that specialised groups have in recent times met to discuss ways of combating terrorism. They included political scientists, psychiatrists, historians, philosophers, ethicists and physicians. Their professional expertise must be utilised for devising a scientific blueprint of counter brainwashing the hard core militants to neutralise their ideological commitment. Appeals couched in the language of Gandhian non-violence are not likely to produce instant success but non-violent psychological warfare with an ideological component entailing a process of reasoned repudiation of the militant ideology holds optimistic possibilities. The persons concerned should interact with the militants through an open-minded process of ratiocination, allowing fullest opportunity to the former to express their views but ultimately

Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India 201 demonstrating their inherent fallacies and flaws. Discourses on the success of non-violent protest movements led by people like Martin Luther King, Dorothy Day and Barbara Deming may be useful to provide a counterpoint to those committed to violence. Exposure to the enormous literature on non-violence may set them rethinking. If the power of ideology is reduced and the militants become skeptical about the efficacy of their ideology, the edifice of terrorism will crumble. Mr Kofi Annan hit the nail on the head when he said that ‘To fight terrorism, we have to win hearts and minds.’ Since India’s fate is inseparably linked with that of the world, her policy makers should envisage their national policy in view of the greater global policy to combat terrorism. They should apply both their head and heart to mount a non-violent assault on terrorism to extirpate it from the face of the earth and say with poet Tagore, ‘Let good work on our part never cease. May we be blessed with Peace, Peace, only Peace.’ NOTES 1. G.I. Wilson, Terrorism: Psychology and Kinetics. http://www. d-n-i. net/ fcs/pdf/wilson-psychology-of-terrorism.pdf. 2. Eric Hoffer, The True Believer, New American Library, New York, 1951. 3. Ibid., p. 17. 4. Amartya Sen, Identity and Violence: The Illusion of Destiny, Allan Lane, England, 2000, p. 142. 5. Ibid., p. 143. 6. Ibid. 7. Ibid. 8. Ibid., p. 145. 9. Rajni Kothari, State and Nation Building, A Third World Perspective, Allied Publishers, Delhi, 1976, pp. 216-217. 10. Ibid., p. 223. 11. Atul Kohli, Democracy India’s Growing Crisis of Governability, Cambridge University Press, New Delhi, 1992, p. 5. 12. Sen., n. 4, p. 145. 13. Fighting Terrorism For Humanity: A Conference on the Roots of Evil, Government of Norway, International Peace Academy, New York, September 22, 2003, p. 2. 14. Keane, The mind of a terrorist, in J. Baxter and M. Downing ed, The Day That Shook the World: Understanding September 11, London BBC Worldwide, pp. 54-67. 15. A.J. Marsella, Terrorism: Reflections on Issues, Concepts and Directions in A.J. Marsella and F.M. Moghaddam ed, Understanding Terrorism: Psychosocial Root, Consequences and Interventions, American Psychological Association, Washington DC, 2003, pp. 11-48. 16. M. Taylor and J. Horgan, The psychological and behavioral bases of Islamic

202 Swaraj and the Reluctant State fundamentalism, Terrorism and Political Violence, 13 (4) 2001, pp. 37-71. 17. L.J. Skitda and E. Mullen, The dark side of moral conviction in Analyses of Social Issues and Public Policy, 2 (1)2002, pp. 35-41. 18. David C. Rapoport, Fear and Trembling: Terrorism in Three Religious Traditions American Political Science Review, Vol. 78, No. 3, 1984, pp. 655677. 19. Mihir Srivastava, ‘Inside the Mind of the Bombers’, India Today, October 13, 2008, p. 36. 20. Ibid., p. 39. 21. F.J. Hacker, Crusaders, Criminals, Crazies, Terror and Terrorism in Our Time, W.W. Norton, Jeffrey, NewYork, 1976. 22. R.A. Field, Child terror victims and adult terrorists, Journal of Psychohistory 7(1), 1979, pp. 71-75. 23. S. Akhtar, The psychodynamic dimension of terrorism, Psychiatric Annals, 29 (6), pp. 350-355. 24. Zubair A. Dar, ‘Rebels with a Cause’, The Sunday Indian, June 15, 2008, pp. 75-76. 25. P.W. Johnson and T.B. Feldman, Personality and types of terrorism, self psychology perspectives, Forensic Reports, 1992. 26. J.M. Post, ‘It is us against them’: The group dynamics of political terrorism, Terrorism (10), pp. 23-35. 27. J.M. Post, Notes on a psychodynamic theory of terrorist behavior, Terrorism 7, pp. 241-256. 28. D. Della Porta, Social Movements, Political Violence and the State, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1995. 29. M. Crenshaw, ‘The Subjective Reality Of The Terrorist ; Ideological and Psychological Factors in Terrorism’ in R.O. Slater and M. Stohl ed., Current Perspectives in International Terrorism, , Macmillan, Basingstoke, Hampshire 1988. 30. Berkowitz, The Frustration-Aggression Hypothesis: An Examination and Reformulation, Psychological Bulletin, No. 106, pp. 59-73. 31. K. Hesken, ‘Psychological Terrorism in Ireland’ in Y.H. Alexander and O’day ed., Terrorism in Ireland, St. Martin’s Press, New York, 1984. 32. M. Taylor, The Terrorist, London, Brussels, 1984. 33. C. Macaulay, Psychological issues in understanding terrorism and the response to terrorism in C.E. Stout ed., The Psychology of Terrorism: Theoretical Understandings and Perspectives, C.T. Praeger Publishers, Westport, 2002, pp. 3-29; M. Sageman, Understanding Terror Networks, University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia, 2004. 34. N. Friedland, ‘Becoming A Terrorist: Social And Individual Antecedents’ in L. Howard ed., Terrorism: Roots, Impacts, Responses, Praeger, 1992, pp. 8193. 35. Ray Corrado, A Critique of the Mental Disorder Perspective of Political Terrorism, International Journal of Law and Psychiatry, Vol. 4, No. 3-4, pp. 293-309; C. Ruby, Are Terrorists Mentally Deranged? Analyses of Social Issues and Public Policy, Vol. 2 (1), pp. 15-26. 36. Ananda Bazaar Patrika, December 9, 2009.

Militancy, Peace and Conflict Resolution in India 203 37. The Week, December 20, 2009, p. 33. 38. Ibid 39. Udoyon Mishra, ULFA: Beginning of the End, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XLIV, No. 52, December 26, 2009, January 1, 2010, p. 13. 40. Ananda Bazaar Patrika, January 2, 2009. 41. Ananda Bazaar Patrika, January 1, 2009. 42. Ananda Bazzar Patrika, October 10, 2009. 43. Ibid., October 17, 2009. 44. D.S. Goel and D. Saldhanha, Understanding the militant mind in S.P. Agarwal et al, ed., Mental Health: An Indian Perspective, Elsevier, New Delhi, 2005 p. 257. 45. Ibid. 46. Eric Hoffer, n. 2, pp. 53-54. 47. D.S. Goel and D. Saldhanha, Understanding the militant mind in S.P. Agarwal et al ed Mental Health: An Indian Perspective, Elsevier, New Delhi, 2005, pp. 262-264. 48. Anil Bhat, ULFA Down and Split, The North East Frontier, August, 2008, p. 22. 49. Personal interview with Indira Goswami, August 22, 2008. 50. M.S. Prabhakara, Prospects for Peace in Assam, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XLV, No I, January2-8, 2010, p. 9. 51. Indira Maoni Raisom Goswami, Shantir Sandhane ULFA der sange ami, Saradiya Prasad, 2005, p. 325. 52. Ananda Bazaar Patrika, September 10, 2009. 53. David Cortright, Gandhi and Beyond: Non Violence for an Age of Terrorism, Viva Books Pvt Ltd, New Delhi, 2007, pp. 213-214. 54. Ibid., p. 215. 55. Ananda Bazaar Patrika, February 5, 2009. 56. Ranjit. K. Prachanda, Terrorism and Response to Terrorist Threat, UBSPD, New Delhi, 2002, p. 183. 57. Ibid., p. 33. 58. Ibid., p. 35.

PART II

MARGINALISED GROUPS AND SWARAJ

8 Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation: Inadequate in Conception and Ineffective in Execution K.B. Saxena Affirmative action implies giving special consideration to a group of persons to overcome their marginalisation and enable them to obtain certain benefits which they otherwise would not get in open competition with others (Faundez, 1995). This marginalisation is inevitably associated with entrenched and structural inequalities particularly in a multi-ethnic society which do not disappear with development or equalize outcomes with equal opportunity. Such a cause of action has been justified on the following grounds— ●

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It generates greater social equality and therefore promotes equal opportunities fairly among groups which reduces social tension It is a means for compensating discrimination/exclusion and therefore contributes to social justice. It promotes administrative efficiency and enhances productivity in work force in an organisation It neutralizes present impact of past social policies which impede restoration of equilibrium in a market economy

Affirmative action to achieve these objectives has turned out to be a highly contested policy instrument and the discussion on the subject is polarised. Indian society eminently qualifies for application of this instrument not only in public policies but also in private sector activities. The society is characterised by institutionalised inequalities based on caste, ethnicity, religion and gender which despite equality before law guaranteed by the Constitution leads to inequality of opportunity as it does not provide a level playing field to all the social groups and therefore poses a threat to social stability. The most important socioeconomic groups that suffer these inequalities and therefore marginalisation in society, polity and economy are the Dalits (officially termed as Scheduled Castes), Tribes (officially termed as Scheduled

208 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Tribes), Muslims (numerically the largest religious minority) and women. Within this commonality of their characteristic condition, there are specificities in respect of the nature of marginalisation of each one of them. Dalits’ marginalisation is integrally related to norms and practices of Hindu social order. Tribals who were not part of that society have been integrated into it at par with Dalits as a result of incorporation in the state. Muslims experienced this phenomenon post partition while women’s marginalisation is both internal to all social groups, and in addition, women of each group face marginalisation from men and women of higher caste groups. All four groups lack productive assets, gainful employment, access to public goods, fail to receive requisite development entitlement, face institutional bias in enforcement of their civic and cultural rights and suffer discrimination and violence by dominant groups and the State. Of the four, marginalisation of Dalits and Tribals and Muslims received some recognition in the colonial period and therefore some intervention was made to address it which may be considered affirmative action of sorts. The post-colonial State accepted it as the desired policy option to neutralise social disparities between Dalits and Adivasis and the rest of society currently and to compensate for discrimination and exclusion faced by them historically so as to ‘change the social composition of elite position holders and make them more representative’ (Deshpande, 2013). It did not share the same perception about Muslims and women for reasons explained later. Affirmative Action Policy therefore essentially covers Dalits and Tribals only. This Affirmative Action embedded in the Constitution takes the shape of preferential treatment for such groups in recruitment to jobs in government establishments, admission to institutions of higher learning and representation in legislative bodies. These measures originated in the colonial period in a rudimentary form but were crystallised in the Indian Constitution and were subsequently reflected in public policies in pursuance thereof. In the colonial period, despite the government’s policy of noninterference in the social practices of communities, the rule of law and equality before it generated by a nationwide legal and justice administration system and enactment of Caste Disabilities Act, 1850 was used by social movements to question caste based inequalities and demand preferential treatment for depressed classes. Legal safeguards to neutralise discrimination against Dalits in access to schools, public places and entry into temples introduced by the some provincial governments were ineffective in the face of stiff opposition from high caste groups. Some progressive princely states introduced reservation in administrative positions and educational institutions too. (Rao, 2008) The separate electorates in elective positions was conceded by the

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 209 colonial government for Muslims, under the Government of India Act 1909 and for Christians, Sikhs and Anglo-Indians under the Government of India Act 1919 and for depressed classes in 1932 (Sharma et al, 2014) after the Round Table conference in 1931, due to the pressure exerted by organisations representing them. The bitter opposition by Gandhi to separate electorates for depressed classes advocated by Ambedkar led to Poona Pact which instead of a separate electorate for them recommended reservation of seats for them in legislative bodies. This was reflected in the 1935 Act which established new federal and provincial assemblies. There was, however, no such reservation for Tribals as they did not have a definitive criterion like untouchability (Teltumbde, 2015). Reservation in services for all minorities but not depressed classes was effected in 1934 through a government order. The depressed classes were given reservation in Central services and other services in 1942 (Das, 2008)The new provincial governments initiated various measures to neutralise discrimination against Dalits in public places. Thus, all three forms of preferential treatment— reservation in jobs, educational institutions and legislature in incipient form can be traced to the colonial period (whether undertaken by provincial governments, princely states or colonial government) and formed the basis of affirmative action policy of the post-colonial government of which the Constitution was the most defining document. While formulating contours of affirmative action, the constitution making process was confronted with two important issues which needed resolution. One was the issue of social groups to be included in the ambit of affirmative action. While the Dalits posed no difficulty since there was a policy precedent in the colonial period, Tribals had no such precedent. However, there was political consensus, to include them as well. But religious minorities, particularly Muslims, had no such support in their favour in the political reality post-partition. The Constitution however, resolved this issue by keeping religious minorities outside any preferential treatment while conceding identity based rights—right to manage their religious affairs and establish and administer educational institutions along with freedom of religion as a fundamental right. Women were also ignored in focused affirmative action as their separate identity different from the family was not perceived. The other issue was how to neutralise the marginalisation of the social groups, fully recognising that equality before law cannot operate when there is no equality in conditions. The Constitution therefore tried to balance the two by a judicious mix of Fundamental Rights and Directive Principles, the former being enforceable while the latter laid down principles of just governance. In the former are included Art 16 (equality before law), Art 15— (prohibition of discrimination),

210 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Art 16 (equal opportunity in public employment), and Art 17 (abolition of untouchability and making its practice an offence) while at the sometime enabling the state to make special provisions for SCs/STs. This is effectuated by the provision for reservation in appointment of officials in the government and public sector enterprises for SCs/STs and reservation of seats in educational institutions. Reservation of seats in democratic institutions is provided for in Arts 330 & 332 and 243 (D) and Art 355. For Adivasis, in addition to the above, special provisions for governance have been made for the V Schedule Areas in Art 244 (1) which provide for a special role for the Governor of a state and setting up of a Tribes Advisory Council, and for VI Schedule areas in Art 244 (A), which lay down formation of Autonomous District and Regional Councils. National Commissions one each for Dalits and Adivasis have been provided for in Arts 338 and 339 of the Constitution as watchdog bodies for safeguarding their interests. Women received treatment almost similar to Muslims except for permitting the state to make special provisions for women and children in Art 15 which prohibits discrimination on grounds of sex. But the state was more considerate to them in Directive Principles of state Policy in which Art 39 (c) provides for securing equal pay for equal work for men and women and Art 46 obligates the state to take care of their educational and economic interests and protect them from injustice. The anxiety of religious minorities is addressed by providing freedom of conscience and right to profess and propagate religion (Art 25) and freedom to manage religious affairs and the right of minorities to establish and administer educational institutions as a Fundamental Right. The social reality of unequal conditions in general is addressed by Art 38 which exhorts the state to minimise inequalities and undertake other welfare measures. The ambit of affirmative action in India as it has unfolded in the last six decades goes beyond the constitutional measures of compensatory discrimination in matters of jobs in the government, entry into educational institutions and seats in democratic bodies. It extends to other dimensions of unequal conditions by making special arrangements for protection, development and participation of Dalits and Adivasis. The protective measures for Dalits include criminal prosecution of those engaged in untouchability practices, enhanced punishment for atrocities committed on them along with rehabilitation of victims, elimination of degrading practices of manual scavenging and Devdasi System. The protection of labour against exploitation is of universal application but is of specific relevance to all four groups but particularly Dalits and Adivasis. The measures for protection against atrocities cover Adivasis as well. Development measures cover land reforms, Sub Plans to ensure that adequate resources are allocated for

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 211 improvement in their economic conditions and status of human development. In the case of Adivasis, legal protection against alienation of their land and recognition of forest rights, regulation of money lending and provision for marketing of minor forest produce have been made. The poverty alleviation programmes covering wage and selfemployment, provision of minimum needs, addressing malnutrition and food insecurity though not targeting them are of particular relevance in their case due to the high incidence of poverty and exploitation among them. In the case of women, social reform measures have focused on targeting problems relating to personal law such as share in parental and husband’s property, marriage, divorce, adoption, marital disputes, welfare measures relating to maternity and protective arrangements against sexual harassment and dowry deaths, domestic violence, child marriage, and female infanticide. Development measures seek to ensure adequate share in the development activities through gender budgeting and a special component for them in the plan. As for Muslims there was no specific provision or policy until 1983 when for the first time a 15 Point Programme for Minorities was introduced which included directions to deal with communal riots, have, special consideration (not reservation) in recruitment for jobs etc. Recent years have witnessed programmes for educational improvement, provision for scholarships and schemes for infrastructure development in minority concentration areas. In respect of participation, while Dalits and Adivasis have reservation of seats in legislative bodies, and Panchayati Raj Institutions, neither women nor Muslims have such reservation in legislative bodies. However, women have 33% reservation of seats in Panchayati Raj Institutions though four states have made it 50% and Central government also proposes to enhance this quota to 50%. (The Hindu, 2016) But statutory commissions for safeguarding their rights have been set up for women and minorities as well. In would thus be seen that the architecture of affirmative action in India is more comprehensive than what its international definition and practice recognize. The latter do not include any redistributive or antipoverty policies and only confine themselves to the core principle of preferential treatment in education and employment to address contemporary exclusion. But Indian practice includes redistributive measures, (however limited) and anti-poverty programmes which seek to minimise economic inequalities considering that reservation provision would cover and benefit only a small section of the marginalised communities. Affirmative Action in India also addresses political marginalisations through reservation of seats in democratic bodies. It recognises that without bridging economic and political divide, the gap between the marginalised groups and the rest would increase

212 Swaraj and the Reluctant State and even accessing opportunities thrown up by preferential treatment would become increasingly difficult. It is true that affirmative action in respect of Dalits and Adivasis is much stronger, far more focused and comprehensive than in respect of minorities and women and is the weakest in respect of minorities which affect Muslims the most. This is because marginalisation of Dalits and Adivasis has been historical and entrenched and resisted through movements against it. The marginalisation of Muslims is a post-partition phenomenon and that of women a late recognition emerging from wide ranging social research, expanding movements of women and international developments. There is no doubt that the ambit of affirmative action in respect of women would expand and become stronger in the coming years. In the case of Muslim minority, despite the damning evidence of wide ranging discrimination and policy neglect provided by the Sachar Committee Report (2006) partition-determined antipathy to them in the right wing Hindu political formations and their sustained opposition to any special treatment have stalled any move to address it. But it would be difficult to ignore their marginalisation for long due to the social cost it would entail in terms of social tensions and instability. Affirmative Policies-Implementation Has this strategy succeeded in eliminating or even significantly reducing the marginalisation of these groups? The answer of this question lies in the assessment of the degree of vigour and effectiveness in implementation of the measures listed above and their impact in terms of perceptible change in the conditions of these groups and the attitude of the dominant castes towards them. The following analysis would bring out the position in this regard. Protection against Violence As far as protection is concerned, the special laws enacted for Dalits have failed to act as a deterrent against caste-based discrimination and violence against them due to poor enforcement. The enforcement of the Protection of Civil Rights Act 1977 aimed at combating untouchability and other caste-based discrimination has not been taken seriously. The implementation of the Act is so poor that victims of untouchability have virtually ceased to register cases. The yearly registration of cases has been less than 100 for the past few years and that too confined to a few states though this number increased to 106 in 2015. The pendency of cases for investigation is 33.8% and at trial stage 89.9%. The conviction is a measly 4.8% while acquittal is very large caused by poor quality of investigation (NCRB, 2015). Special courts have not been constituted and prosecutors have not been appointed.

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 213 Monitoring Committees have not been formed as required by the law. There is no serious attempt to identify untouchability prone areas and no plan is in place to eliminate the practice while the discrimination against Dalits continues not merely in private space and inter-personal relations but also in public institutions (NHRC, 2004). The enforcement of SCs and STs (Prevention of Atrocities) Act 1989 suffers from resistance and even bias of the implementing machinery. It is manifested in nonregistration of cases and, where cases are registered, it is done not under the POA Act but IPC to dilute the seriousness of the crime, so as to yield lesser punishment to the accused and deprive the victims of compensation. The investigation of cases is marked by caste bias and intention to benefit the accused which is manifested in distortion of FIR, shoddy investigation, investigation done by police officers below the rank of Dy. S P non-application of the serious provisions of law manipulation of witnesses, and recording of false cases at the behest of offenders against the victims. The victims are also pressured to compromise and sometimes even threatened to withdrawal to withdraw the case. There is no registration of atrocities committed by the police and security forces during the course of their investigation and search and seizure operations. The guilty officials are not proceeded against even after interventions of the National Human Rights Commission. Where the pendency in the investigation of cases at the level of the police is not large (29.7%), at the level of courts under trial is a huge 87.8%. Barely 27.2% cases end in conviction. (NCRB, 2015) Supreme Court’s judgments that special courts cannot take cognisance of cases without commitment proceedings by the lower court jeopardised trials of even pending cases. Mandatory accountability mechanisms such as vigilance and monitoring committees, periodic review of cases are not compiled with. Adequate number of special courts is not constituted and special prospectors are not appointed. Not only investigation but even prosecution suffers from caste bias which results in high rate of acquittal (NCDHR, 2015). Vigilance and Monitoring committees where constituted are largely not functional. (NCRB, 2015) There is also acute hostility of some political parties against the enforcement of the Act and, in some states, the registered cases were withdrawn. There is a great deal of laxity in presentation of annual reports in the Parliament and the reports which were presented were never discussed. Even the enforcement of provisions of rehabilitation of victims is dismal. Funds released for rehabilitation are inadequate considering the reported cases of atrocities and many state governments do not contribute their share of this compensation thereby depriving victims of even the prescribed quantum of financial relief not to speak of other benefits. Where victims manage to get some compensation, a substantial part of even the limited

214 Swaraj and the Reluctant State financial assistance is cornered by officials and intermediaries (NHRC, 2004). The Act has been recently amended and its provisions strengthened to remove loopholes. The enforcement of the amended Act would indicate whether it has succeeded in ensuring greater protection against atrocities to Dalits. Protection against Degrading Practices The manual scavenging problem continues unabated. The law to eliminate this practice suffered from many loopholes and virtually remains unenforced as no case has been registered under it. (NCRB, 2015) There is resistance from caste Hindus to its enforcement and scavengers are pressured to continue this vocation even when they are keen to discontinue it. The worst part is that many states even deny the existence of manual scavenging in their areas. The programme of rehabilitation of liberated scavengers which has been in operation since 1980-81 has failed to eliminate the practice though governmental claims that till 2010, around 5.1 lakh scavengers were assisted, (GOI, 2015-16) and an exclusive Safai Karamchari Commission and a separate finance and development corporation for extending financial assistance to the liberated scavengers for pursuing an alternative vocation has been functioning. There is no indication of how many of the persons financially assisted have ceased to engage in manual scavenging. Nongovernment surveys have been reporting continued prevalence of manual scavenging in many parts of the country. This has led the government to revise the law comprehensively in 2013 to make it more effective. The rehabilitation scheme has also been revised (GOI, 201516). The new law has yet to show any action on the ground though rules for operationalizing it have been notified. While the Rural Sanitation Programme to provide for toilets to households has received a considerable push in the recent years and the present PM has launched a nationwide campaign, Swachh Bharat to make India defecation free under which a very large number of toilets have been constructed. But there is still a huge gap between the toilets constructed and the toilets needed. More important, the toilets constructed have not been used in many places for various reasons. (NHRC, 2004). The practice of Devdasis/Joginis which enslaves Dalit women into ‘divine’ prostitution still continues due to weak laws which suffer from huge loopholes, and there is virtually no enforcement due to the apathy of the enforcement machinery vulnerability of Devdasis and social sanction that the practice enjoys. Except for some cases in Karnataka, there is no report of cases having been registered against the practice in other states despite the continuing operation of this traditional practice. Even the rehabilitation of liberated Devdasis has been dismal. It suffers from

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 215 design and structural flaws, inadequate financial assistance under various components, failure to address issues of access to other welfare schemes, lack of provision for psycho- social rehabilitation and treatment of their mental and physical disorders and a component for children of Devdasis who suffer from widespread malnutrition and stigma. (Premchander, et al. 2014) Protection against Exploitation As with land reforms laws, the implementation of labour laws too has been very weak and heavily tilted in favour of employers. As a result, the labourers fail to get minimum wages and female labourers face wage discrimination whether in agriculture or industry despite their legal entitlement under Minimum Wages Act 1948 and Equal Remuneration Act, 1976 respectively (NCEUS, 2007). Their vulnerability arises from their need for work daily for survival, lack of organisation and unhelpful attitude and, at times, even collusive behavior of enforcement machinery. The insensitive and unresponsive implementing bureaucracy has frustrated the implementation of the Bonded Labour (Abolition) Act, 1976. It denies the existence of bonded labourers despite increasing incidence of this practice and fails to act even when specific instances are brought to its notice. Even intervention of the NHRC which monitors the implementation of this law has made very little difference to this situation. The Child Labour (Prohibition and Regulation) Act 1986 suffers from structural flaws reflected in its untenable distinction between hazardous and non-hazardous activities and poor implementation due to inadequate staff strength and the indifferent attitude of the enforcement agencies despite reports of rampant abuse of children engaged in various establishments appearing in the media. Even the horrendous incidents of violence inflicted on child labour, the Supreme Court Judgment on the subject and Right to Education Act have not pressured the government to take strong steps to eliminate its incidence and punish the employers. The law has recently been amended and has further jeopardized elimination of child labour with some of its regressive provisions. The Inter-state Migrant Workmen (Regulation of Employment and Conditions of Service) Act, 1979 exists only on paper. This Act is the least implemented of all labour laws which is indicative as much of its weak provisions as the complexity of its enforcement. Yet, this segment of labour cries out for attention as large sections of it are also trapped in debt bondage. The plight of migrant labour is evident from the indifference the workers face to their exploitation from their home states and the unwillingness of the host states to check violation of law and abuse of labour. The grossly inadequate, ill-equipped and least motivated labour enforcement

216 Swaraj and the Reluctant State machinery is tilted towards the employers and more so in this case because the workers come from a different state. The trade unions have ignored the unorganised labour due to difficulties of organising them. Since the onset of the neo-liberal economy, the enforcement of labour laws in general has completely vanished from the agenda of governance and even the existing provisions are being diluted to placate corporate investors. Reservation The reservation in recruitment to posts in government has had a relatively better record of enforcement than other affirmative measures. In Groups C and D posts, the quotas have been by and large been filled with group ‘D’ posts receiving representation in excess of the quota prescribed (in the case of Dalits). But this is no indication of progressive equalisation in society and crumbling caste bastion as the overwhelming number of posts filled up in Group ‘D’ are those of sweepers whose job higher castes consider degrading. Rather, the effective compliance of this provision is reinforcement of caste based division of labour even in affirmative action. But the quota has not yet been filled up in Group ‘B’ posts in some establishments while there is a huge gap in representation in Group ‘A’ posts. All India Services have fared better in this respect than PSUs, insurance companies and Railways. Beyond the category of government controlled establishments, the enforcement of reservation is very poor. There is continued denial of reservation in many establishments aided by government. The worst cases are that of universities and science and technology institutions. The quota of teaching positions at the lowest level is not filled up with reserved category of candidates even in the premier universities of Delhi and JNU – located in the seat of political power. There is no representation of SCs/ STs at all in many universities and less than 1% in others. At the professor and reader level, it is virtually the exclusive domain of higher castes. Universities in general are not following government directions and instructions in this regard. The same position obtains in IITs and medical colleges. Outside the government funded establishments, it is higher caste monopoly (NHRC, 2004) that prevails. The enforcement of reservation in the states is patchy with some states showing a little better performance than others. In any case, the role and impact of reservation in addressing marginalisation of these communities is extremely limited. Only a tiny proportion of their population has directly benefited from it. Even those lucky enough to get this benefit face discrimination after appointment to important positions and promotion to higher posts. They face all-pervasive stigmatisation by their caste Hindu colleagues and an unwelcome

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 217 working environment. Besides, courts have also been progressively diluting the ambit of application of reservation provisions. Worse, even their orders favourable to the reserved category candidates against violation of reservation provisions by establishments fail to get enforced. There is little accountability of authorities in this regard. Reservation provisions are also subverted by upper caste candidates by procuring fake certificates of their identity as Dalits/Adivasis and cornering reserved jobs. The achievement in respect of reservation in institutions of higher education is far worse than that of reservation in jobs. The quota for them remains unfilled by large margins due to insufficient number of eligible admission seekers and the manipulated admission process which subvert the stipulation of reservations. Among those admitted, dropout rates are high and completion rates are low due to poor quality of school education and lack of adequate financial and academic support which the government has failed to address (Nayyar; 2011). But even this little avenue of social mobility has progressively shrunk due to the liberalisation of economy and consequential changes in governance. This is reflected in drastic reduction in the number of posts in government establishments and PSUs, conscious policy not to fill up vacant posts, outsourcing of certain functions to private sector agencies, combining two and more posts into single ones and filling up vacancies with contract/temporary appointments and denial of reservation therein. Similarly, the seats in institutions of higher learning too are not expanding as newer institutions are being set up in the private sector where reservation provisions do not apply and Dalits/Adivasis do not have the financial means to seek admission to courses in such institutions. In the market economy, the new avenues of employment for the educated are getting created in the private sector where there is no reservation. UPA Government failed to carry out its commitment to extend reservation to the private sector or even to ‘persuade’ the private sector establishments to ensure that adequate number of candidates from these communities are recruited voluntarily without a legal obligation. The private sector has strongly opposed even to undertake training of candidates from these communities to enable them to compete for positions in their establishments and in the open market. Studies have shown that discrimination and bias exist against Dalit/ Adivasi candidates in the open market recruitment even when they have educational attainments comparable to those of higher caste candidates (Deshpande, 2013, Thorat and Newmen, 2010 Jodka and Newman, 2010). Overall, the impact of reservation in eliminating social and economic exclusion of the two groups is negligible as it benefits a very small number of persons and that too from the better off sections

218 Swaraj and the Reluctant State of the groups. It is not a transformative measure to eliminate poverty and social disadvantage. Its ambit is too limited and its delivery too ineffective (Mendelsohon & Vicziany, 1998). Development On the development front, the government has over the years adopted five methods to address the marginalisation of Dalits and Tribals. These consist of a) redistribution of land in the earlier years b) Provision for wage employment and promotion of self-employment through distribution of assets and skill development. c) distribution of subsidized food (PDS) and programmes to tackle malnutrition in children (Integrated Child Development Scheme (ICDS) and Mid-Day Meals (MDM) for school children) d) provision of basic minimum services— education, health, drinking water and housing etc. and e) carving out Sub Plan within the overall plan for ensuring requisite flow of resources for the development of these communists. The redistribution of land was pursued through a package of land reforms which consisted of abolition of intermediaries, tenancy reforms and distribution of land in excess of the ceilings on agricultural holdings of big landowners to the landless. The objective could not be realised due to poor implementation. In the abolition of intermediaries, Dalits and Tribals who actually cultivated the land and were at the bottom of the agrarian hierarchical structure failed to secure any right because they were operating on oral contract with no documentary proof to support their status. A large number of them were actually evicted from their land by land owners to pre-empt them from laying any claims to land. Tenancy reforms too failed to provide security of tenure to the Dalit and Tribal cultivators of land due to the oral status of their contract. The landowners denied their claims while the tenants had no documentary proof to substantiate them. Only the CPI (M) government in West Bengal managed to overcome this difficulty since the party organisation mobilized necessary evidence in favour of tenants. The implementation of the ceiling measure was similarly frustrated as the resourceful landowners helped by weak laws and a collusive bureaucracy managed to evade and subvert it by benami transactions. Very little land could be acquired and even less distributed. Dalits and Tribals did manage to get some land but the priority assigned to them in the eligibility list was not adhered to and other groups managed to corner substantial and better land. Dalits and Tribals also managed to get a share of the distribution of government owned land. But, in many cases, the allottees of ceiling as well as government land failed to get possession of the land and were prevented from cultivating it where they were lucky to get possession of it. Those persons whose land assignment was secure from

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 219 this hassle, land distributed to them, by and large, was of poor quality and Dalits and Tribals had no resources to make such land cultivable. The scheme to provide modest financial assistance to such allottees of land for this purpose failed to reach them due to the indifference of implementing bureaucracy and the absence of an organisation to mobilise the assignees of land for this purpose. But as landowners consolidated their hold on political power, the pursuit of equity in agrarian structure through land reforms was abandoned. The strategy shifted to seeking production and productivity enhancement in agricultural production though Green Revolution technology which relied on large farmers and irrigated areas and provision of subsidised inputs for its application. This technological change had adverse consequences for the Dalits and other poor who were tenants/ agricultural labourers as the landowners started taking control of land for self-cultivation and resorted to mechanisation to reduce demand for labour, and payment of wages in cash and rather than in food grains. (Frankel, 1971). The second method was to alleviate their poverty through wage employment and promotion of self-employment which have continued to be pursued with some variations for nearly three decades. This measure has also failed to neutralise or even significantly reduce the economic marginalisation of Dalits and Tribals Wage employment programmes suffered from limited coverage and the level of employment, inadequate allocation and the overwhelming emphasis on asset creation in the form of puca structures in the earlier phase. As a result, the quantum of employment provided was low. In the current phase, despite much higher allocation and statutory nature of demand driven entitlement, government has failed to provide the guaranteed hundred days of employment due to the indifferent implementing bureaucracy, resistance of local landowners, and bottlenecks in payment of wages etc. The scheme, attacked relentlessly by corporates, media and neo-liberal economists, is getting diluted under the NDA government and the financial provisioning is much less than the requirement. The self-employment programme was destined to fail due to the flawed assumption that a large number of Dalits and Tribals could overnight turn from labourers to mini-entrepreneurs. It underestimated the hostility of landed classes to this measure of empowerment (Mendelsohn and Vicziany, 1998). The programme implementation suffered from unwillingness of banks to provide adequate credit, poor quality of assets distributed, non-provision of supporting services, and inability to provide forward and backward linkages. These inadequacies could be attributed to the flawed design as well as indifferent and ineffective implementation. The problems

220 Swaraj and the Reluctant State listed above have continued to haunt the programme to this day notwithstanding many revisions it has undergone. The limited number of cases where the programme achieved some success were in respect of those who had land or traditional artisans who had vocational skills and possessed necessary clout in the bureaucratic structure. Dalits and Tribals obviously, had negligible share in the success stories. The implementation of the third component i.e., extending food subsidy through PDS failed to realise its objective due to the omission of a significant number of Dalits and Tribals from the BPL list which has till recently been the basis of eligibility to access this benefit. The reach of the benefit is further frustrated by the malfunctioning of PDS— failure of shopkeepers to lift food grains, shops not being kept open when the beneficiary goes to draw his/her rations, attempts of shopkeepers to sell food grains in the open market in collusion with the local bureaucracy, poor quality of food grains supplied, and exclusion of coarse grains from its ambit. These issues have now been addressed by the National Food Security Act, 2013 which is yet to be fully implemented. The programmes of ICDS and MDM failed to create the desired impact due to inadequate coverage, irregular services, poor quality of food, lack of infrastructure and personnel, and discrimination faced by Dalit children in accessing these services. In respect of the provision of basic services Dalits face huge discrimination in accessing them. One glaring example is drawing water from state financed drinking water sources by higher castes in the villages. Where government made provision for an exclusive facility earmarked for their habitation in many places, they are cheated by diversion of that facility to location outside the Dalit habitations due to the manipulation of lower power structure. Dalits’ access to education also suffers from discrimination practised in schools by teachers and fellow students from higher castes. Poverty of the families forces them to push their children into the labour market for supplementing family income. Even in the implementation of RTE (Right to Education), there is the lack of a concrete strategy to improve the social environment of classrooms to make them more friendly for school going Dalit and Tribal children. As for access to higher education, the financial provisioning for Dalit and Tribal students is quite inadequate in terms of coverage and the amounts of scholarships, scale of hostel facilities, and text books and extra coaching classes. Only those who have better financial standing manage to carry on their studies and complete their courses. The institutions catering specifically to Dalit and Tribal students— Ashram Schools and hostels, are too few and even these few suffer from poor infrastructure and services and bad management. (Thorat, 1997). Access to health services gets restricted due to the poor financial capacity

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 221 of Dalits and Tribals to buy quality private healthcare, overcrowding in government health centres, failure to provide free drugs and meet ancillary expenditure involved in availing hospitalisation facilities and discriminatory behavior of service providers in hospital and dispensaries. Scheduled Caste Special Component Plan and Tribal Sub Plan as mechanisms to provide additional resources to bridge the gap in the development of Dalits and Tribals have failed to achieve their objectives due to the resistance of many ministries and departments of central and state governments to earmark resources for it citing non-divisibility of the activities they engage in. As for making use of the limited resources pooled in these sub plans, the failure to reach the benefits to the Dalits and Tribals stems from absence of a dedicated planning and implementation mechanism (Mendelsohn and Vicziany1998), nonutilisation of available funds, their diversion and even mis-utilisation and the manipulation by a caste biased bureaucracy to utilise funds in a manner that benefits groups other than Dalits and Tribals. No visible improvement in outcomes has been registered despite several interventions to address these shortcomings. Recently, state government of AP (before bifurcation) enacted a law to strengthen this arrangement. It is to be seen whether this measure would lead to better results. The shift to a neo-liberal economy in any case has eclipsed the importance of these measures in addressing the marginalisation of Dalits and Tribals as the role of the government in development has shrunk and Dalits and Tribals are unable to participate in the market economy due to the lack of skills and capital and the discrimination encountered in the credit, labour and produce market. The focus on individual in the development process far from uplifting the community has led to economic dualism in it. (Throat 1997). Participation Participation here connotes share in political power. It has three dimensions—‘adequate’ representation in the power exercising body, effective say in the decision-making and opportunities for mobility in the political hierarchy. As for the first, reservation of seats in legislatures (Central and state) and now Panchayati Raj institutions ensure this dimension of participation. This representation however, does not translate into the second dimension of participation—i.e. influencing policy decisions on matters vital to their interests and their implementation. Dalits and Tribals elected representatives, by and large, suffer from lack of capacity and confidence to participate in debates, ask questions and use the available space to raise crucial issues affecting Dalit/Tribal voters of their constituencies and Dalits and

222 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Tribals elsewhere. They tend to endorse decisions of their party even when they hurt interests of their communities. They have little independence, beholden as they are to the party for sponsoring their candidature. The other structure of power is the political executive which engages in policy making. In this structure, there is no reservation. The Constitution does provide for a representative from the marginalised groups to be included in the cabinet. While there is a symbolic inclusion of one or two ministers in the Council of Ministers, this representation is inadequate compared to their strength. The discrimination is also evident in the allocation of portfolios. Dalit (equally true of Adivasis, if at all they are included) ministers are assigned very insignificant portfolios which carry little power and responsibility in the overall governance. Besides, in interpersonal dealings among ministers, the views of Dalit and Adivasi ministers and proposals emanating from them do not carry much weight. These Ministers therefore, cannot contribute much to eliminate marginalisation of their communities. The electoral system also marginalises them. Dalit members are elected from constituencies (even when reserved) where Dalits are not in majority and therefore are dependent upon support of other castes for their election. Since elections involve huge financial expenditure beyond what the party may provide, this is met by certain interest groups in the constituency to whom they are obliged. They discharge this obligation by taking up the agenda of such individual groups after getting elected. As for opportunities for higher mobility within the party structures, all mainstream parties (leaving aside the regional parties) are dominated by higher castes and beyond a symbolic representation in party decision making structure, they have little share in the exercise of actual power. This tends to impinge on their ability to rise higher in the party’s hierarchy. Dalit and Adivasi representatives are valued only for their ability to garner votes of their communities for the party. At the PRI levels, Dalit representatives face overt discrimination, and in many places, undignified behaviour from higher caste members. There have been instances of elected Dalit Panchayat chiefs not being allowed to take charge and function (after the election in Tamil Nadu), and of Dalit elected Panchayat heads not being allowed to sit with other caste representatives etc. While such instances may not represent the overall macropicture, one thing which can be said with greater certainty is the manipulation of Dalits and Adivasi elected members by fellow members from higher caste groups who virtually call the shots in the deliberations of these bodies. They are a controlled by local village elites and bureaucracy rather than answerable to their own communities (Patnaik, 2005). This resistance to sharing genuine power exposes

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 223 Indian democracy to the entrenched fault lines of caste domination which perpetuates marginalisation of these groups even when they occupy higher official positions. Tribals Dalits and Tribals have many common features which characterize their marginalisation. This explains why the Constitution as well as subsequent policy and programme instruments to eliminate this marginalisation are identical. However, marginalisation of Tribals is characterised by other distinguishing features as well. Therefore, additional measures have been introduced to eliminate their marginalisation. In respect of instruments common to both, i.e., protection, reservation, development and participation, the analysis made above in respect of Dalits more or less applies with minor variations to the Tribals also. The additional legal instruments to check marginalisation of the Tribals relate to protection of their land against alienation by non-Tribals, (states with large Tribal population have had such laws since colonial times) recognition of the forest rights enjoyed by them traditionally (Scheduled Tribes and other Traditional Forest Dwellers (Recognition of Rights) Act, 2006)and endowment of a modicum of self-governance through a modified Panchayat law called the Panchayat (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act 1996. The performance in respect of all the three laws is dismal. As for land alienation by non-Tribals, only a small proportion of land alienation cases are registered. Of the cases filed, virtually two-thirds are rejected and quite a few of them on flimsy grounds. There are serious procedural and practice related anomalies in the disposal of cases. The land restoration courts are tilted in favour of the non-Tribals. The money spent by the Tribals in fighting these cases leave them impoverished (MORD, 2004). Even in cases where claims are decided in favour of Tribals, getting possession of the land from the adversary is an agonising and frustrating process and Tribals often give up in despair after pursuing them for some time. In an overwhelmingly large number of cases, where land was restored by a lower court, the adversary goes in appeal and obtains a stay order thereby negating its effect. But a far larger alienation of land takes place by the government through compulsory acquisition for development projects which has progressively increased over the years. In the neo-liberal phase of Indian economy since 1990. This mode of alienation is more devastating than the alienation by private individuals because there is no space to contest it and no possibility to prevent it. The acquisition of land displaces Tribals from their land, habitat and environment and social networks, deprives them of their livelihood. Tribals have faced a disproportionally

224 Swaraj and the Reluctant State large share of displacement—more than 40% of the total displacement in the country while they are only 8% of the population (Fernandes, 2006). The three-fourths of the displaced Tribals have not received even a modicum of rehabilitation thus pushing them to the destitute labour market for survival. But Tribals also lose land though informal processes due to large scale immigration of non-Tribals into their areas as a result of location of development projects. There is not even a policy to check this immigration. A lot of such land is being alienated where mining lessees are granted through private agreements between lessees and Tribal land owners whose lands fall in the lease area or land developers through ‘Danpatras’ which are illegal but connived at by the state agencies. The concerned officials ignore this alienation so as not to disturb the process of development (Rao, 2009). Tribals do not even get a fair compensation for the acquisition of their land. But in respect of private agreements in mining areas, they are out right cheated. The implementation of the recently enacted Forest Rights Act is even worse than that of laws on land alienation. It faces huge resistance and even subversion from the forest bureaucracy which is evident from the large scale rejection of the claims approved by the Forest Rights Committee and conceding a miniscule portion of the land claims filed by the Tribal land users where they are accepted. There is a virtual refusal to entertain claims relating to Community Forest Management. In the absence of a sustained awareness drive by the states, a large number of Tribal households have not even filed their claims due to lack of knowledge of law and procedure of registration.(CSD, 2011) Worse, there is continued eviction of Tribals from their existing occupation of land in Wild Life Sanctuaries and National Parks without even following the procedure laid down in the Act. The control over collection and disposal of minor forest produce has not been transferred to the Tribal community as required by law. The enforcement of PESA, 1996 is the worst of the three instruments. It exposes the illusion of selfgovernance conveyed by the text of the law. The enforcement of this law requires states to amend their Panchayati Raj laws in harmony with it. States in general are reluctant to do so as it may involve decentralizing the power of decision making to the Gram Sabhas. Cosmetic amendments have been made by some of them to give a semblance of compliance which far from empowering Gram Sabhas to exercise their decision making rights have actually undermined them by circumscribing their powers. states have ‘virtually deconstructed the provisions of PESA, 1996 through numerous legal contortions, thus reducing it to nullity’ (Equations, 2007). The enthusiasm which this law generated in Tribals has turned into despondency and frustration. The incapacity and powerlessness of Tribals to hold the bureaucracy

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 225 accountable for its insensitivity and systemic indifference to their rights manifests their marginalisation. In respect of the development dimension of affirmative action, the failures in delivery of programmes outlined in respect of Dalits, by and large, also apply to the Tribals. But in respect of Tribals, the conceptualisation of ‘development’ itself is deeply flawed and does not take into account the specificity of their situation. The most notable aspect of this specificity is that the Tribals have traditionally enjoyed control over natural resources in their territory which provided them access to productive assets, sustainable livelihood and numerous other benefits supporting life. It also ensured harmony of their life style and economy with nature. Government’s policies since the colonial period have systematically eroded this control which has severely impinged on their livelihood and the integrity of their social and cultural life. The commercialisation of forest resources further extinguished opportunities for economic survival due to the plantation policy catering to the urban and industrial demand. The diversion of forest for development deprived them of this life supporting resource still further. Even the design and implementation of conservation policy (Forest Conservation Act, 1980) has resulted in their forcible eviction from forest areas by treating their occupation of land of long standing as encroachment thereby enlarging the ambit of deprivation. With the loss of land and forests around which the entire social structure of Tribal society is woven, its disintegration followed exposing Tribals to the rapacious non-Tribal society and the market, thereby subjecting them to multifaceted exploitation. Their position became worse than that of even Dalits. The marginalisation of the Tribal communities hit the Tribal women even more harshly. With the forests lost to them, women not only lost their major economic role and therefore, primacy in the economy but also their higher social status within the family and the community. There were fewer opportunities of livelihood outside land and forest which rendered them economically dependent upon the husbands | male members of the family leading to the reduced role in domestic decision making. The fewer menial jobs that could be availed in the changed economy exposed them to sexual exploitation besides very low wages. Primitive Tribal groups (Pre-agricultural Tribes) suffered the most with the loss and de-degradation of forests. Their only source of survival eclipsed. Not used to sedentary and settled life and not exposed to hard manual labour as a means of economic survival, their average life expectancy plummeted and the population shrank. Some groups within them face the prospect of extinction. The paradigm of development, governance and economy also delegitimized the community and replaced it by individual as the unit

226 Swaraj and the Reluctant State of reference leading to its disintegration. The Tribals were thus exposed to exploitation of both the market and the non-Tribal society without the support of the community. The hostility towards Jhuming (slash and burn cultivation) and promotion of settled cultivation and commercial farming in Tribal areas also destroyed the collective ethos of natural resource management and social aspirations of individual households. This has also led to emergence of a marked degree of inequality in the Tribal society and promoted male centred values of the casteist society. It also exposed them to the exclusionary processes in access to credit, input, produce and labour market and exploitation by traders, government officials and money lenders. The standardised model of development with individual as the unit of intervention for delivery of benefits and services also eroded the communal bonding within the Tribal society and its tradition of reciprocity and mutual help. It has created divisions within the Tribal community and weakened it which has left the individuals within the community defenceless against exploitation by outsiders. Far from improving the economic status and social conditions of Tribals this approach to development has been instrumental in impoverishing them and subordinating them to the dominant non-Tribal population. A further flaw of this approach has been its assumption, drawn from the experience of mainstream non-Tribal communities, that changes in Tribal living conditions can be induced in terms of developing a consumerist orientation by providing subsidies, incentives and rewards. This goes against the very soul of Tribal cultural values and has produced very adverse results. Tribals are reluctant to take loans for fear of losing land and being harassed by bank officials. The bank loans increased the liabilities of poor innocent Tribals as they suffered punitive action for loans they never took but fraudulently booked in their names. It has also led to power brokers within them. (Mehta, 1993) The overall thrust of development is ‘assimilation’ i.e. trying to change Tribals into the mould of dominant communities and does not accommodate a different trajectory for them which permits autonomy and integrates them with their traditional ethos intact. The Tribal communities themselves have been rendered powerless to assert their distinctive interests due to their minority status and destruction of their social structure and forest based economy. For Tribals to receive some benefits from even this deeply flawed development, it was necessary to protect their command over natural resources, preserve and strengthen their social structure and their community managed economy so as to prevent them from being overwhelmed by immigrant non-Tribal communities and exploitation by the rent seeking bureaucracy. They needed to be given space and time to appropriately

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 227 adjust to the new situation and opportunities in a manner and at a pace that did not erode their cultural values and social system. The saddest part is that the flawed model of development has failed to deliver even its intended benefits for reasons analysed in the case of Dalits. The government’s approach failed to even conceptualise let alone integrate this essential pre-requisite of their development. Not merely this, there was not even an attempt to neutralise the adverse externalities emerging from economic growth and development process by strengthening protective measures designed for them and vigorously enforcing them. This is most glaringly reflected in the failure to use the constitutional provisions of the V schedule which confer extraordinary powers on the Governor to protect Tribal interests particularly in relation to land and money lending. No Governor has exercised this power to protect Tribals from laws, policies and programmes and other measures which erode their command over resources and expose them to social and economic exploitation for which there is no dearth of empirical evidence. Similarly, the Union Government has never utilised powers vested in it by the Constitution to issue directions to state governments for protection of Tribal interests. With regard to the ‘participation’ dimension of affirmative policies, the situation in respect of Tribals is no different from that of the Dalits. Rather, it is worse. This is because, culturally, Tribals are not oriented to the electoral mode of democracy which is rooted in competition, contestation and partisan action. Their democratic practice is built around participation of the whole community in governance and the process of decision making through discussion and consensus and quick enforcement of decisions which are accepted by all. It is no wonder that the Tribals as a group are not enthused by this ‘power’ which tends to further divide and destroy them and make them vulnerable to manipulation and exploitation by political forces. They are also unable to articulate their grievances through the democratic electoral process (Guha, 2007). There is little recognition of the value of Tribal democratic ethos let alone any effort towards its deserving accommodation in electoral politics and functioning of political parties. At the grassroots level, PESA 1996 was a small concession in this direction which in any case has virtually remained unimplemented. Muslims Sachar Committee Report, broadly, outlines identity, security and equity as areas of concern for Muslims. The identity related concerns centre around doubts about their patriotism, ridiculing their distinctive markers of identity (beard, skull cap, burqa, purdah etc.) discrimination in public spaces, exclusion in access to housing and education and

228 Swaraj and the Reluctant State projecting Islam as the sole locus of gender injustice in the community. Security related concerns revolve around lack of safety against violence and discriminatory treatment by state institutions, particularly those relating to law enforcement. Equity related issues are broadly identified as high incidence of poverty, low level of education and a hostile environment in schools, poor access to public goods, discrimination in employment, hiring of labour, access to credit and market and absence of proper civic amenities and infrastructure facilities in areas of their habitation. The only intervention in 1983 following Gopal Singh Committee Report to deal with issues concerning the community has been the Fifteen Point Programme which focused on communal riots and recruitment to state and central services and only marginally referred to development programmes. The revised 15 point Progrmme, postSachar Committee Report, has a greater focus on development, though targeting minorities and not Muslims specifically, the funding for which has to come by way of a share of 15% from the allocations for the selected few national programmes roughly on the pattern of Sub Plan for SCs and STs but without its structural parameters. Development measures also included programmes for scholarships to students and infrastructure development for districts identified as minority concentration areas called Multi-sectoral Development Plan. A separate Finance and Development Corporation was also set up to provide subsidised financial assistance to entrepreneurs for minorities for setting up their ventures. As for identity concerns, the problems lie in the social attitudes of people from the majority Hindu community and public servants in governance structures and public institutions who also come from the same socio-religious base. There has been no effective intervention to combat these biased social attitudes which have intensified in the context of explosion of disinformation and hate campaigns by right wing cultural and political formations. No action is in evidence to effectively repudiate disinformation politically, and prosecute those involved in disinformation. There is also no effort to remove communally biased material from the content of school/college text books/reference books. As for public institutions and governance structures, except for inclusion of a component on combating communal bias in the training programme of All India Officers (police and civil) little else has been done to change the behaviour and perception of public servants. There is no information whether even this little intervention has taken place in the content of training material for state level officials who constitute the middle and grass root levels tiers of administration and if it has also been extended to the training programme of judicial officers. But from all available

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 229 indications there has been no impact of even this little intervention on the perceptions and behaviour of public servants. On the security front, the track record of the government has been pathetic and is most glaringly reflected in respect of lack of action on communal riots government has failed to provide minimum justice to Muslims in terms of prosecution of perpetrators. The victims even fail to get their complaints registered due to bias police officials and where cases are registered, FIRs leave out crucial details and investigating officials resort to slipshod investigation and close the cases (Mander, 2016). There is no commitment to take action on the findings of enquiry reports and their recommendations on these riots, not even after judicial observations. There is no authentic information of any effective action having been taken against officials identified for dereliction of duty or communally biased action in enquiry reports. There is no effort at the political or administrative level to pursue riots cases in the courts which remain pending for years. Rather, pressure is exerted on the victims by perpetrators or their interlocutors to compromise and prosecution witnesses to turn hostile. Similar is the fate of the very few cases against police and security officials prosecuted for communally biased action under judicial directions. This has generated frustration and total distrust against the government in the victims. Sachar Committee Report has also highlighted the failure to provide adequate and timely compensation. There is virtually nothing by way of rehabilitation of riot victim’s anywhere. It is in this context that the proposal of enactment of a separate law to deal with the whole gamut of problems relating to communal riots was initiated by the UPA government (Mander, 2016). But opposition from BJP (now in power) led to the stalling of this proposal even after its provisions were diluted to accommodate its concerns. The need for such a law has strengthened with the current spate of targeted collective violence against Muslims in the context of cow protection politics of the current government. Besides, there has been no intervention to address the concerns of Muslims regarding indiscriminate arrests of Muslim youth under draconian anti-terrorist laws. Many of them remain in jail for long periods without any charge sheet. No institutional mechanism has been put in place in the laws under which they are arrested to review their continued detention on the basis of evidence gathered. Worse, even after many of them have been acquitted of their charges, there is neither any apology, nor any compensation or rehabilitation for the victims (Farasat, etal, 2014). Similar lack of intervention is evident in addressing the issue of ghettoisation and shrinking common spaces by way of programmes of housing, infrastructure, and allocation of land for public utilities in habitations of riot victims.

230 Swaraj and the Reluctant State On the equity front too, the only intervention to check discrimination in public employment is that in the selection committee, one official representative of minority community should be included. This instruction is not implemented in selection processes of many appointments. Even where it is implemented, it has not shown any positive impact in terms of larger selection of Muslim candidates. Besides, a lone representative of the minority community is hardly ever in a position to resist the biases of other members in the committee even if he/she tries to assert himself/ herself. This measure is cosmetic in nature with no impact whatsoever. The demand for reservation in jobs is stoutly opposed by right wing political formations and proposal for reservation has even been struck down by the judiciary where such an initiative was taken by a state, though reservation has been effected in favour of some groups identified as socially and economically backward within Muslims under the OBC quota at the Central and state level. But a sub quota has existed for Muslims within the Backward Classes quota in some southern states for a long time (Krishnan, 2012). In such a situation the programmes of state funded coaching centres cannot bridge their deficits when Muslim candidates have to compete with those of the majority community under hugely unequal conditions. The revised 15 Point Programme for Minorities suffers from several weaknesses. Very few schemes which have relevance for Muslims are included it. In schemes which do focus on their needs allocation of funds is low and utilisation of funds is even lower as the states which implement them do not have administrative capacity for their execution at the district level (CES, 2011). Fund allocations of such schemes do not match the magnitude of demand KCR (2014). Most of the general schemes like ICDS/RTE/SSA are development programmes applicable to all and are not targeted at Muslims. Similarly, earst while JNNURM projects or those taken up under the revised schemes (Infrastructure Projects in urban areas) do not benefit minorities specifically (Hasan and Hasan, 2013). Critical sectors which have relevance for Muslims such as enhancement of opportunities for decent job, access to credit, skill development, investment in occupations where they are concentrated, improving social infrastructure and civic amenities in their habitations, housing and habitat development are virtually out of the 15 Point Programme ambit. Of the schemes in operation, there is little by way of monitoring and evaluation to see if this mechanism of 15% flow of resources to minorities from selected schemes of different of departments has really yielded any benefits to the Muslims as figures of coverage of beneficials provided by the concerned ministries are notional and do not indicate physical delivery of benefits to Muslims. (Khan and Parvati, 2013). The development schemes in education which

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 231 do target Muslims include modernisation of madarssas and distribution of scholarships. The scholarship schemes suffer from huge resource inadequacy and low unit cost, procedural bottlenecks and lack of information dissemination. There are design related problems too (Khan & Parvati, 2013; KCR, 2014). Modernisation of madrassas cannot bridge the educational disparity among Muslims which is due to barriers in access to secular government and private institutions and even the lack of adequate number of government schools in the areas of their concentration. Other schemes like hostels and residential schools for girls, do not target Muslims and even where they do so have very insignificant allocation to make a dent in the problem. The Multi-sectoral Development Programme, the only big ticket scheme, suffers from serious design flaws. The area development programmes, in any case, benefit the entire population in the project area and not only the minorities. They cannot benefit Muslims either conceptually or at the delivery stage without targeting specifically Muslim concentration settlements. Besides, with the district as the unit of planning and intervention, funds end up being spent at locations where Muslims may not be residing at all or in substantial numbers. There is clear resistance by officials to take up projects focused on Muslim concentration areas for fear of challenge in courts even though some courts have rejected petitions challenging the constitutionality of scholarship schemes for minorities. There are implementational problems as well—absence of beneficiary participation in planning and execution, exclusion of PRIs, lack of coordination with other line departments both at the state and district level, lack of clarity and awareness about the programme among officials at the field level and lack of political interest. Institutional resources and absorption capacity are weak at the state level (Hasan and Hasan 2013); KCR (2014).. In the beneficiary oriented schemes like Indira Awas Yojana (IAY), the allocation is too low compared to the demand. Besides Muslims also get excluded as their names are not included in the BPL list which is a pre-requisite for availing the benefit. Regarding micro-financing of entrepreneurs through the Minority Finance and Development Corporation, the meagre disbursement of around Rs 100 to 150 crore a year covers a very small number of applicants (self help groups) and that too confined to a few states. Even this small disbursement has gone down from 2011-12 to 2013-14 KCR 2014. Overall, the development interventions have been so few and untargeted that they make no visible impact on the conditions of Muslims. This was recognized in the document on the 12th Five Year Plan and corroborated by the Kundu Committee Report. The saddest aspect is that the government has been unable even to protect the properties of Wafq Boards (Muslim religious trusts) from encroachments

232 Swaraj and the Reluctant State and develop them to generate income for community welfare. Now, in pursuance of 9th report of Joint Parliamentary Committee, a basic survey of Waqf properties and its computerization is being carried out as a prelude to their better management National Waqt Development Corporation has also been set up to develop Waqf properties. (MOMA, 2013). On the issue of participation, the track record of the Indian state is the worst. It is characterised by huge social exclusion of Muslims. Unlike Dalits and Adivasis, Muslims do not have reservation of seats either in legislatures or PRIs or in services. The All India parties have failed to provide representation to Muslims proportionate to their population. BJP has the worst record in this regard and it has discriminated against Muslims the most. There is not even a single elected member of their party in the current Lok Sabha. At the state level too, the situation is not much different. Even the Congress Party, usually sponsors Muslim candidates only from constituencies where there is a substantial concentration of Muslims. The situation is no different in services where the representation of Muslims in All India Services is very very low (3% in IAS, 1.8% in IFS and 4% in IPS). Muslims representation in all reported government employment (excluding PSUs) is 4.9%. In the state level departments it is 6.3%, in Central PSUs it is 3.3% and 10.8% in state PSUs. Most of this representation is at lower levels. Muslims are barely 3.7% in teaching faculty and 5.4% in non-teaching posts in universities (Sachar Committee, 2006) This is responsible for the growing alienation of Muslims since they are edged out of power structures at all levels. It would thus be evident that in terms of all four parameters—Protection, Reservation, Development and Participation, Muslims fare the worst overall among all four groups. Discrimination against them is at the root of it. Government have failed to enact on anti-discrimination law and set up an Equal Opportunity Commission as had been suggested by the Sachar Committee Report (KCR, 2014) Their only strength is that they have refused to be subordinated to the dominant community and have the resilience to cope with this grim reality. Women Women’s marginalisation in Indian society is rooted in institutionalised gender inequalities and control and subordination of women through structures of patriarchy. These structures are embedded in the personal laws of various communities. But the state has been reluctant to interfere in personal laws of social groups which adversely impact women’s right to equality, particularly pertaining to ethnic minorities. (Jai Singh, 2005). This conservatism is also adopted by courts, thereby upholding the

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 233 plurality of legal systems and separation of public and private matters. The state has, however, shown willingness to touch upon personal lives (marriage, divorce, inheritance, adoption etc.) relating to the majority community in response to pressures from women’s movements. But these legal entitlements have failed to bring about any structural change or social transformation in their lives because of poor enforcement, lack of infrastructure and absence of social mobilisation and support. The social dimension of marginalisation therefore remains unchanged notwithstanding a very small number of urban women at the top of the social pyramid having achieved a substantial degree of equality. The economic dimension of their marginalisation reflected in development deficit is also rooted in patriarchal thrust of development paradigm. This thrust was reflected in the flawed conceptualisation of women’s development which suffered from three misconceptions. First, it failed to view woman as a separate entity of development on her own right and subsumed women’s interests in the interests of the household (family). It was assumed that the household approach to development would benefit women of the household as well thereby reducing women’s role as unpaid workers in the household. The development programmes, therefore, ignore separate measures for their betterment independent of the family. The second flaw was that it failed to recognise women as economic agents—producers and providers. It stressed their reproductive role over productive ones. As a result, development programmes relating to productive activities failed to focus on women’s access to them. The third flaw related to macro-level development polices and technological choices pursued by the state which failed to even recognise let alone address marginalisation of women resulting from them through affirmative measures. The development paradigm did not counteract this adverse impact which impoverished them further. (Das 1991). The state has failed to integrate women’s economic needs in the policy framework (Mazumdar, 1998). The sectoral development programmes did not promote independent livelihoods for women to address their exploitation (in family and workplace) and impoverishment which has contributed to the worsening condition of women, evidenced by declining sex ratio. Taking note of it, from the Ninth Plan onwards, Women Component Plan and, thereafter, Gender Budgeting have been introduced to address their economic marginalisation. As per this arrangement, the concerned sectoral agencies have to earmark at least 30% funds for women’s development. There are now schemes where 100% funds are meant for women and girls. In other schemes, 30% funds are earmarked for them. In the former category of schemes, the allocations are meagre, and therefore

234 Swaraj and the Reluctant State disappointing and fail to make an impact. Worse, even meagre allocations in schemes relating to protection of women from domestic violence, women’s helpline, Rashtriya Mahila Kosh, are unutilised or underutilised. As for those schemes, where 30% funds have been reportedly earmarked for women/girl children, it is an ex-post notional exercise. There is no linkage with physical targets to see whether the benefits have accrued to women. Only some sectoral agencies like Ministry of Rural Development have specific earmarked shares of coverage for women beneficiaries where accrual of benefits is ensured. Besides, there is no effort at incorporating gender concerns in the planning process of schemes and programmes (CBGA, 2014). The common failing in schemes, which address issues of violence against women is the lack of capacity infrastructure and staff support for enforcement. Overall, the track record of implementation of affirmative action in respect of women is very poor. In respect of participation of women in political decision making, the situation is only marginally better than Muslims. Women constitute nearly half of the electorate but their representation in the legislature is low at 11% in Lok Sabha and 10.6% in Rajya Sabha as against the global average of 21.3%. It is far lower than even in Nepal, Pakistan and China. The situation is not very different in the state legislatures. All political parties are guilty of neglecting women’s representation. It is for this reason, that there has been a strong demand for 33% representation for women in Parliament and the two major parties-Congress and BJP are committed to it. But despite the fact that the UPA government sponsored Bill to this effect was passed in Rajya Sabha, it was stuck in Lok Sabha because there was staunch opposition from the regional parties without whose support the Bill could not muster the necessary numbers for a constitutional amendment to get through. However, institutions of Panchayati Raj have 33% representation for women which has gone up to 50% in some states. Central government also intends to enhance it to 50% (The Hindu, 2016). At least, at the grassroots level, the women’s political representation is much better than those of Muslims. But while formal representation has been achieved by them, the real power is still a long way off. In most parts of the country, where women have been elected to the position of Sarpanch, they are virtually dummies and their functions are discharged by their male kin. This reality is so institutionalised that there is no opposition to it either within the PRI body or outside it. In the services, where recruitment takes places on the basis of open competition, women fare better than Muslims, but still their representation is low compared to their numbers. Further, this representation is overwhelmingly captured by higher caste women. In the reserved categories too, there is persistent male domination in

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 235 recruitment to services, entry into educational institutions and seats in central and state legislatures. This is directly linked to the lower access to education and opportunities and the discrimination practiced against the girl child within the family. It is for all these reasons that India ranks 129 among 149 countries globally with a Gender Inequality index value of 0.617 in 2011 which points to the glaring gaps in human development indicators of women despite high rates of economic growth. Deficits, Threats and Challenges What emerges from the above analysis is the continued marginalisation of the four groups and the failure to deliver the intended benefits of affirmative action to them. This has put serious question marks both on the adequacy Affirmative Action Policy as well as the necessary political will and sincerity in implementation of the existing policy. One glaring deficit of policy is the virtual absence of any instrument of affirmative action in respect of Muslims either in the Constitution or public policies and, worse, even the recognition of the need for it either by the Apex Court which is the custodian of the Constitution or the government for many years. This invisibility from policy discourse can be traced to the tragedy of partition and the aggressive opposition of the right wing political parties to any special provision for Muslims. In respect of women, while the recognition has dawned on the government rather late, the response in terms of policy and governance is inadequate. This inadequacy has to be met by comprehensive affirmative action encompassing all four dimensions—Protection, Reservation, Development and Participation in respect of these two groups. The second deficit in the conception of Affirmative Action policy is the lack of realisation that without commensurate structural transformation (Mohanty, 2007) and the reduction in inequalities even the existing affirmative action would fail to deliver social justice which is its overarching objective. This transformation is required in socioeconomic relations and distribution of the power among so as to alter the caste, ethnicity, religion and patriarchy based structures which marginalise these groups through redistribution of productive assets and wealth, bridging the income and human development divide, sharing political power and promoting social change in attitudes, values and behaviour which cause discrimination and exclusion. Such a transformation would obviously involve destabilisation of the existing privileged position of dominant communities and interests which tilts the distribution of power in their favour and marginalises these groups. The state, controlled as it is by the elite from these very communities, is not prepared to undertake this structural change whatever the nature

236 Swaraj and the Reluctant State of political regime and whichever political party or combination of political parties is in power. Its approach to affirmative action is therefore, driven by the hope that a slow and gradual change would occur with the passage of time through the policy and legal instruments designed without disturbing the existing unequal social, economic and political arrangements. This has not worked so far and is even less likely to do so in future. Rather, the privileged groups have consolidated their power over time, making full use of their initial advantages. The changed political economy has given a further boost to their position. The hopelessness it generates among the marginalised groups has made them restive. What is worse, however, is the lack of sincerity and commitment to pursue even slow and incremental change through effective and vigorous implementation of existing policy instruments of affirmative action. This is indicated by the failure to strengthen weak laws, alter faulty design of policies, prioritise implementation of these measures in the agenda of governance at all levels, mobilise party functionaries for exerting pressure from below, discipline bureaucracy with vigorous monitoring of their performance and holding them accountable for their lapses and proactively involve marginalised groups in this task. Government is also unwilling to counteract social resistance in execution of policies at the ground level by comprehensive political mobilization for fear of alienating the dominant castes. Worse, the state has responded with repression when aggrieved marginalised groups assert to seek change of policies which hurt them, demand equitable development and get their entitlements delivered. Democratic institutions have also failed to hold the state accountable for this failure. This has created a trust deficit both in the government and democracy. The unmistakable evidence that has emerged from experience as well as evidence is that the behaviour of privileged dominant social groups towards the marginalised communities is governed by social attitude and norms of religion, caste, ethnicity and patriarchy notwithstanding the laws to the contrary as it serves their social and economic interests. Physical violence is inflicted whenever the marginalised communities transgress these norms and seek enforcement of their entitlements though law and courts. Upward social and economic mobility by marginalised groups through their own efforts also provokes anger and violence by them as it threatens their existing dominance. The laws have therefore, not proved a deterrent to this behaviour. This brings out the conflict between the secular ethos of laws and the constitutional provisions relating to equality and entrenched norms of traditional thinking (Thorat, 2002). Thus, formal laws and polices alone are not enough to change social behaviour.

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 237 Besides structural change, vigorous and continuing movement for social and cultural transformation is necessary (Thorat, 2002). There is a huge deficit of both intent and action in this direction. The affirmative action has, in fact, turned negative when it comes to the Adivasis because it has been subordinated to larger national policies rather than harmonising the latter with the former. Thus, the state is itself complicit in undermining affirmative action to achieve aggressively its socially integrationist, politically unrestrained nation building project and elitist development goals which the ruling classes of the dominant communities have crafted. As the weakest of four social groups, Adivasis have to pay the cost for these policies with their own devastation. The pursuit of these goals has deprived Adivasis of their land, access to forest and self-governance, impoverished them and robbed them of their social strength and dignity though disintegration of their communitarian living. As a result, they have slided from relative empowerment in the pre-colonial period to progressive disempowerment in the colonial and the post-colonial periods and there is no attempt to reverse this descent. Constitutionally crafted affirmative action in any case has lost much of its utility with the change in the political economy. Its neoliberal character has even abandoned the rhetoric of redistribution of income and wealth as a political goal voiced in the early years of independence (though never seriously pursued) and shifted to equality of opportunity and inclusive growth which retain wide income inequalities and hierarchies based on power and social advantage and thus erode the social justice connotation of the earlier political discourse (Varma, 2015). With shrinking job opportunities in public sector, stiff resistance from business and industry groups to extend reservation to the private sector, the provision of reservation in jobs does not sustain hope of upward mobility for the Dalits and Adivasis. Even the provision of reservation per se is facing threats with attempts at dilution by the Apex Court and exemption of major technical and scientific establishments from its application by the government and subversion by higher castes through false caste certificates and movements to get entry into reserved category to corner its benefits. The entry into institutions of higher education is becoming increasingly difficult with poor quality of education in government run schools which are supposed to assist the candidates from these groups to compete for eligible seats. With the government taking no steps to create enabling conditions through coaching and counselling to bridge the gap between higher caste entrants to these institutions and those from marginalised communities, a significant number of those who manage to compete for admission are unable to pursue the courses. There is the lack of serious effort to make this

238 Swaraj and the Reluctant State provision succeed (Deshpande, 2013). Legislative bodies too are rendered powerless and are merely reduced to a rubber stamp with the task of policy making shifting to technocrats and external actors in a global economy and political representation, therefore, does not provide the needed clout in decision making (Jefferlot, 2009). There is no attempt to evaluate the impact of the new economy on the Dalits and Adivasis (as also other marginalised groups) and to undertake measures to expand and redesign affirmative action so as to address the increasing marginalisation of these groups in the current social and economic conditions. There is an increasing backlash against the provision of reservation by high caste groups which has become strident since the onset of the neo-liberal economy. A lot of disinformation is unleashed in the media and public discourse on how reservation dilutes merit and efficiency. Empirical studies have demolished these assumptions. The candidates from reserved categories pursuing professional and technical courses face hostility of and discrimination from higher caste students and bias of some faculty members of the institutions. Even the resultant suicides and dropouts of some affected Dalit and Adivasi candidates do not stir up the authorities to take strong and effective action to curb these tendencies. National Commissions on marginalised groups are ineffective in dealing with this problem due to the lack of any executive power. Reservation alone, therefore, cannot eliminate caste dominance. The rationale of Affirmative Action policy is grounded in sharp inequalities both current and historical between marginalised groups and the higher caste groups in every indicator of human development, and economic and social well being. These inequalities far from having been significantly reduced are widening, particularly with the onset of the market economy. Affirmative action contributes little to bridge them and less so with insincere and ineffective implementation. Government is disinclined to take any radical measure to reduce these inequalities for fear of slowing down economic growth, the principal beneficiaries of which are the higher caste groups. They have access to capital, land, finance, knowledge and social network to take advantage of emerging opportunities. Marginalised communities lack all of them. Even its latest slogan of inclusive growth merely envisages some little benefit trickling down to these groups and the other poor sections. In such a situation, the social and economic divide would become unbridgeable and marginalisation would get intensified. This has serious implications for social stability. The share in political power is central to any approach to eliminate or at any rate significantly reduce marginalisation of these excluded social groups as it gives them a say in decision making at various levels.

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 239 The Muslims and women do not even have adequate representation in elected bodies. In respect of Dalits and Adivasis they do have representation. But the policy naively assumes that representation of SCs/STs in elected bodies against reserved seats provides the requisite power to them to influence governance. The institutional democracy as it has unfolded, has shown that political representation does not translate into power which is effectively controlled by higher castes in all its important institutions and processes. Therefore, affirmative action has crucially failed in enabling these groups to genuinely share power with higher caste groups. Beyond implementing the reservation provision, there is no attempt to enlarge political participation of these groups by way of political parties sponsoring candidates from marginalised communities for non-reserved seats, giving their elected representatives adequate representation in council of ministers and with important portfolios, inducting them in powerful positions in the party structure and entrusting them with serious responsibilities, proactively mobilising cadres from these groups and involving them meaningfully in crucial policy making process, and vigorously training them to participate in debates and deliberations in the legislature etc. In respect of Muslims and women, the adequacy of political representation has to be pursued first. What we see instead is a tokenism by giving them symbolic representation. This deficit in institutional politics is being filled up by social and political movements to some extent as they provide larger space for direct mode of participation. But this does not give its participants any clout to influence governance. The affirmative action in favour of Dalits and Adivasis is also facing a very serious challenge from a skewed distribution of benefits within the marginalised social groups which is creating resentment among sub-groups left out in the percolation of benefits. This exposes the marginalised groups to opposition from within their large family besides the hostility they face from outside. The upper castes find this opposition an effective weapon to strike at the rationale and utility of reservation. The disparities within marginalised groups are reflected in the emergence of a creamy layer in the beneficiary group which corners the gains of reservation and other goodies, gender imbalance in benefit distribution and concentration of benefits in the advanced social segments and sub-castes within Dalits and small ethnic groups within Adivasis. No mechanism has been developed to ensure that benefits of reservation are equitably spread across the social formation in the groups. No such initiative has been taken by the groups themselves to whom the benefit has accrued. There is a clamour from the deprived sub-groups for reservation within reservation to effect equitable distribution of benefits which apart from its doubtful legal validity is

240 Swaraj and the Reluctant State difficult to design and implement. The Affirmative Action policy did not contemplate such a situation when it was designed. While the courts have responded to the problem in the case of OBC reservation by excluding the ‘creamy layer’ from its benefits, its application to Dalits and Adivasis would have the negative effect of reducing their overall representation in the reserved posts.(particularly in Groups B and A) due to skewed nature of educational attainments and access to resources across sub-groups within them. Also, this measure does not address the complex issue of multiple sources of disadvantage and inefficient targeting within the group. There is, therefore, a need to redesign the reservation issue taking into account empirical evidence of its implementation and to address multi-dimensional intergroup equity (Deshpande and Yadav, 2008). Given this bleak situation, movements mobilising the marginalised groups and exploring other avenues of change have sprung up using both violent and non-violent means to change unequal social economic arrangements and policies which marginalise them. Coercive policies to curb this expression of anger and frustration would be counterproductive. This is a wake-up call to undertake comprehensive structural changes with expanded and redesigned Affirmative Action as its integral part to eliminate marginalisation. REFERENCES CES (Centre for Equity Studies 2011). ‘Promises to keep: Investigating Government; Response to Sachar Committee Recommendations’, Study Report submitted to the NAC, New Delhi. Centre for Budget and Governance Accountability (2014). Has the Tide Turned: Response to Union Budget 2014-15, Safdarjung Enclave, New Delhi, July. Council for Social Development (2011). ‘The Scheduled Tribes and other Traditional Forest Dwellers (Recognition of Rights) Act, 2006, Status of Implementation and Recommendations’, Council for Social Development, New Delhi. Das, Bhagwan (2008). ‘Moments in History of Reservation’, in Thorat, Sukhdeo and Kumar Narendra (eds) (2008). In Search of Inclusive Policy: Addressing Graded Inequality, Rawat, New Delhi. Das, B.K. (1991). ‘Women in Rural Development: The Indian Experience’, in Kalbagh, Chetna (ed). Women and Development, Vol. 4, Discovery Publishing House, New Delhi. Deshpande, Ashwini (2013). Affirmative Action in India, Oxford, New Delhi. Despande, Satish and Yadav, Yogendra (2008). ‘Redesigning Affirmative Action’, in Thorat, Sukhdeo and Kumar, Narendra (eds). In Search of Inclusive Policy: Addressing Graded Inequality, Rawat, New Delhi. Equations (2007). This is Our Homeland: A Collection of Essays on the Betrayal of Adivasis Rights in India, Bangalore, July.

Affirmative Action to Eliminate Marginalisation 241 Faundez, J. (1995). Affirmative Action: International Perspective, ILO, Geneva. Fernands, Walter (2006). ‘Liberalization and Development induced Displacement,’ Social Change, Vol. 36, March. Frankel, Francine R. (1971). India’s Green Revolution: Economic Gains and Political Costs, Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersy. Farasat, Warisha, Shah, Amod and Prasad, Gitanjali (2014). Law and Justice: Exclusion in Anti-Terror Legislations, in India Exclusion Report 2013-14, Books for Change, Bangalore. Government of India, Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment (2016): Annual Report, 2015-16. Guha, Ramchandra (2009). ‘Adivasis, Naxalites and Democracy’, in Economic and Political Weekly, August 11, 2009. Hasan, Zoya and Hasan, Mushirul (2013). ‘Assessing UPA Government’s Response to Muslim Deprivation, in India’, in Hasan, Z. and Hasan, M (eds). India: Social Development Report, 2013, Oxford, New Delhi. The Hindu (2016) ’50% quota for women planned’ National Bureau, February 05. Jaisingh, Indira (2005). ‘Gender Justice: A Constitutional Perspective, in Jaisingh, Indira (ed). Men’s Laws, Women’s Lives, Women Unlimited, in Association with Kali for Women, New Delhi. Jefferlot, Christophe (2009). ‘Caste and the Rise of the Marginalised Groups’, in Sunil Ganguly, Larry Diamond, and Mare F. Platter (eds). The State of India’s Democracy, Oxford, New Delhi. Jodhka, Surinder and Newman, Katherine (2007). ‘In the Name of Globalization: Meritocracy, Productivity and Hidden Language of Caste’, Economic and Political Weekly, 42 (41). Khan, Jawed Alam and Parvati, Pooja (2013). ‘Government’s Commitment Towards Development of Muslims: A Post Sachar Assessment of Uttar Pradesh and Haryana, in Hasan, Zoya and Hasan, Mushirul (eds). India: Social Development Report, 2013, Oxford, New Delhi. Krishnan, P.S. (2012). ‘Reservations for Muslims in India: A Step for Inclusive Development’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XLVII, No. 33, August 18. KCR (Kundu Committee Report on Muslims) (2014): Post Sachar Evaluation Committee Report 2014, Ministry of Minority Affairs, Government of India, http://ioswored.org/download/post_sachar_Evaluation_Committee .pdf visited on 26 July, 2017. Mander, Harsh (2016) ‘Communal Violence in India: Ending Impunity’, in Rehman, Mujibur (ed). Communalism in Post-Colonial India: Changing Contours, Routledge, New Delhi. Mazumdar, Vina (1998). ‘Women: From Equality to Empowerment’, in Karlekar, Hiranmay (ed). India, The First Fifty Years, Oxford University Press, New Delhi. Mehta, Shalini (1993). ‘Continuity and Change Among the Tribals: Paradoxes in Concept and Context’, in Miri, Mrinal (ed). Continuity and Change in Tribal Society, Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Simla. Mendelsohn, Oliver and Vicziany, Marika (1998). The Untouchables: Subordination, Poverty and the State in Modern India, Cambridge University Press, UK.

242 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Ministry of Minority Affairs, Government of India (2013). Annual Report, 201213. Ministry of Rural Development (2004). Report of Expert Group on Prevention of Alienation of Tribal Land and its Restoration, Government of India, New Delhi. Mohanty, Amarnath (2007). ‘Affirmative Action in India: An Alternative Perspective’, Economic and Political Weekly, July 28. National Commission on Enterprises in the Unorganized Sector (2007). Report on Conditions of Work and Promotion of Livelihoods in the Unorganized Sector, New Delhi, August. NCDHR (2015). ‘Equity watch’ Access to Justice for Dalits in India, National Dalit Movement for Justice SWADHIKAR, New Delhi. National Crime Records Bureau (2015). Crime Statistics, 2015. National Human Rights Commission (2004). Report on Prevention of Atrocities Against Scheduled Castes, New Delhi. Nayyar, Deepak (2011). ‘Discrimination and Justice: Beyond Affirmative Action’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XLVI, No. 42 October 15. Patnaik, Pratyusna (2005). ‘Affirmative Action and Representation of Weaker Sections. Participation and Accountability in Orissa Panchayats’, Economic and Political Weekly, October 29. Premchander, Smitha, V. Pramecla, Shikha Sethia and Coen Kompier (2014). ‘Devdasis Cultural Practice or Unacceptable Form of Work’, in India: Exclusion Report 2014-15, Books for Change, Bangalore. Rao, Nitya (2009). ‘Conflicts and Contradictions: Land Laws in the Santhal Parganas’ in Nandini Sunder (ed). Legal Grounds: National Resources, Identity, and the Law in Jharkhand, Oxford, New Delhi. Rao, S. Srinivas (2008). ‘Equality in Higher Education: The Impact of Affirmative Action Polices’ in Sukhdeo Thorat and Narendra Kumar (eds) In Search of Inclusive Policy: Addressing Graded Inequality, Rawat New Delhi. Sharma, Richa and Varshney, Nikhil (2014). ‘History of Separate Electorate System in India’, posted by Legal Heritage April 3, 2014 http:// legalharitage.wordpress.com/2014/04/03 history_of_separate.electorate_ systemin_india_by_dr_richa_sharma, accessed on August 1, 2017. Sachar Committee Report, (2006). ‘High Level Committee Report on Social, Economic and Educational Status of the Muslim Community of India’, Akalank Publications, Delhi. Teltumbde, Anand (2015). ‘Political Economy and Discrimination against Dalits, in Varma, Vidhu (ed). Unequal Worlds: Discrimination and Social Inequality in Modern India, Oxford, New Delhi. Thorat, S.K. (1997). ‘Public Policies and Economic Change: The Case of the Scheduled Castes’ in Nayak, Radha Kant (ed). The Fourth World, Appraisal and Aspirations, Manohar, New Delhi. Thorat, Sukhdeo (2002). ‘Oppression and Denial, Dalit Discrimination in the 1990, Economic and Political Weekly, February 9. Thorat, Sukhedo and Newman, Katherine S. (2007). ‘Caste and Economic Discrimination: Causes, Consequences and Remedies, Economic and Political Weekly, October, 13. Varma, Vidhu (ed) (2015). Unequal Worlds: Discrimination and Social Inequality in Modern India, Oxford, New Delhi.

9 Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal Tribes in India Subir Rana In the Western imagination, India was the ‘Jewel in the Crown’, the treasured colony of the British Empire, a land of opulence, wilderness and adventure, game and conquest. The grand project of colonisation was justified by the British in India saying that it was a ‘civilising mission’ which would help pull the ‘heathens’ and ‘barbarians’ from darkness to light, from an age of ignorance to an age of ‘benign’ enlightenment. This ‘polite fiction’ was advanced and maintained by the New Imperium as an overarching agenda of the colonial governmentality1. There was a certain nostalgia and romanticism in the category ‘local’ which got accentuated and sauntered with the idée fixe of a ‘timeless India’; a civilisation without any ‘sense’ of history. By mid nineteenth century, the Hegelian proposition that India was a land singularly bereft of history had attained a widespread consensus among British commentators on India. Macaulay and James Mill were entirely convinced that Indians were incapable of writing history.2 A century later, Edward Thompson echoes the same view and says ‘Indians are not historians and they rarely show any critical ability. Even their most useful books exasperate with their repetitions and diffuseness’.3 India with its vast constellation of languages, local customs, superstitions and mythical belief systems, varied political institutions and social practices, religious rules and rites etc. was perplexing for the imperial administration to grapple with. Above all, the age old caste system posed a serious problem both in its cognition for the administrators, historians and ethnographers as well as for the missionaries in the wake of Anglicisation and Christianisation of the natives. 4 That caste in its multiple re-incarnations was to spin a whirlwind career of its own later was not even realised by either the ‘Raj’ or the natives themselves.5 Indian landscape in the eighteenth century was dotted with variety and extraordinariness in its everyday life which was amusing and

244 Swaraj and the Reluctant State bewitching for the imperial government. Tribal6 groups or Adivasis7 with their primeval belief systems, and the ‘barbarous’ (religious) practices of certain Hindu castes and communities (like hookswinging8, firewalking9, female infanticide, sale of women, animal sacrifice, speculations about human sacrifice10 and Sati11 ) and superstitious beliefs and exotic social customs fascinated as well as threw the travellers and colonial administrators-ethnographers into fits of revulsion. In this so called ‘teratology’ of the weird and the strange, colonial sociology found itself inquisitive and therefore preoccupied and embedded in the indigene. However, the colonial nation was couched in a sea of contempt for the bizarre and tragic as well as admiration and desire for the sublime. The British administrators-ethnographers 12 and European missionaries who confronted the bewildering ethnographic variety of India undertook several studies for colonial administrative reasons, 13 to facilitate the process of proselytisation or to quench their curiosity about an alien culture and society.14 There was widespread agreement that this society, like others they were governing, could be known and represented as a series of facts. For example, knowledge of language was necessary in order to issue commands, collect taxes, and maintain law and order besides creating other forms of knowledge about the people they were ruling. 15 However, it is worth noting that the colonial concern to know India began with the desire to understand local forms of landholding and agrarian management in the 1770s. Village communities (referred to as little republics by Charles Metcalfe) therefore became the central focus of study for the colonial administratorsethnographers. This oriental curiosity and fantasy of the mystique on one hand and an administrative necessity on the other led to the creation of a vast corpus of anthropological knowledge about the land and its people. This ethnography was mainly focused on colonised subject as a body without subjectivity, agency or will. Even the crime was considered to have been performed without any agency and just as a function of habit or usage.16 Voluminous details about the life-style, food habits, social customs and cultural peculiarities and other similar observations about the indigenous population flowed from the gazetteers, surveys, census reports, and manuals. Much of the information also sat firmly in the tomes written by missionaries, colonial administrator-ethnographers and historians from time to time. While the colonial project of knowledge formation was going on, anthropology supplanted history as the principal colonial modality of knowledge, representation and rule. After 1857, the colonial state in India became an ‘ethnographic state’ linking politics and epistemology in a tight embrace for the last century of British colonial rule in India.17

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 245 In the process, a different kind of ‘kitsch’18 knowledge system was created by the administrators which ‘objectified’ information that had value and meaning.19 The Raj had not much understanding of the values evolved in India, since it saw her through the eyes of alien rulers, yet, for administrative effectiveness, perforce, they had to grapple with the complex Indian society. Inescapably then, they brought the a priori concepts formed in their own social and political historical experience to the administration of an alien society. One of the reasons put forth for the implementation of Criminal Tribes Act of 1871 along with several others was the need for administrative convenience. By dividing and sub-dividing the numerous segments of the Indian population into a grid-like structure according to caste, profession, locality etc, the colonial government was actually trying to erect a visible framework of the Indian society from an incoherent and heterogeneous mass with no visible order. Such detailed and careful compilation of data-bases about the people was essential for the evolution of an administrative strategy so that a synoptic view of the Indian society could be made. Risley makes clearer when he states: ...the native society is made up of a network of sub-divisions governed by rules that affect every department of life, and that, in Bengal at any rate, next to nothing is known about the system upon which the whole native population regulates its domestic and social relations. If legislation, or even executive action, is even to touch these relations in a satisfactory manner, an ethnographic survey of Bengal, and a record of the customs of the people, is as necessary an incident of good administration as a...survey of land and a record of the rights of its tenants.20

The new imperium henceforth embarked on the ‘cataloguing’ and ‘shelving’ of the native population and various ethnic communities. This was not bound to be a very ‘successful experiment’ which gets mirrored through their studies of the social hierarchies present in India. In administrative records and in the ethnographic studies conducted by the British bureaucrat-ethnographers, the term ‘caste’ and ‘tribe’ and even ‘class’ at times are used interchangeably and jumbled up with the numerous ‘criminal castes’ ‘tribes’ and even ‘gangs’.21 The grandeur of new fledgling British disciplines like anthropology, ethnology and anthropometry and their obnoxious parade in the ‘theatre of the new imperium’ turned India into a laboratory and an ethnological zoo where everything ‘indigenous’ and ‘exotic’ was to be studied, examined, categorised and ‘labelled’ accordingly. A taxonomical precision and a despotic ‘scopic’ regime (which sometimes went to absurd lengths and miniscule details) was maintained and which relied on the common traits, physical features and appearance of the native

246 Swaraj and the Reluctant State population.22 A major reason to undertake this project of biological engineering was to keep a sizeable chunk of vagrants, unemployed youth and a nomadic and gypsy population under control. It was supposed that crimes and criminals were an offshoot of the unemployed and lazy sections of a population in any nation. Mobility increasingly came to be associated with crime and criminality in Europe from where it was lugged down to India. It was during the nineteenth century that Francis Galton came up with his domineering idea of a racial science called Eugenics. This new ‘science of race’ found public favour in Europe as well as in India23 since there was a certain symbiosis with the racial anxieties of imperial Britain and the ritual anxieties of the Brahmanas in India. 24 It subsequently led to a sudden sprouting of eugenicists and ‘Eugene societies’ in England by the end of nineteenth century which dealt with the notion of ‘good genes’ and ‘bad genes’. A new era of racial profiling was inaugurated in colonial India which get transported from the West chiefly from France and England in the nineteenth century. Of Crime, Criminality and Criminal Classes The late eighteenth century France was a scene of terror and crime so much so that crime and criminals dominated popular culture, literature, statistical accounts, and documentary shows. Louis Chevalier25 describes the Paris of the first half of the nineteenth century characterised by a rapid population growth and crime and criminals as having overshadowed every other concern of the Parisians. Crime was one of the major themes which populated writings in Paris in the nineteenth century and the proliferation of ‘criminal classes’ became one of the major facts of daily life. Chevalier goes on to add that ‘more important than the fear of crime, however was the interest in crime and everything connected with it’. Theatres, songs, street ballads, dance and entertainment and even conversations in the café, workshop, on the street and serials had a modicum of crime stuffed into it. These all had manifestations of ‘collective terror’ and a ‘psychic thrill’ attached to it apart from the fear and insecurity that it evoked. It became one of the contemporary popular culture (s), of the ideas and words, the beliefs, the lore and language, and the forms of behaviour and which evoked much public interest and anxiety. Major social treatises as well as contemporary works of those times like those of Mercier and Restif de la Bretonne followed by Balzac, Victor Hugo, Eugene Sue and other writers dealt with the sources and influences of crime. Paris was increasingly being identified as a ‘sick city’ and immersed in a pathological state without any end in sight. Documentaries and statistical accounts swelled with a rise in criminal

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 247 activities. In Hugo’s masterpiece Les Mise`rables, the word mise`rables was used for the first time in a new sense and meant a man who had committed a crime. Putting it in short, this period in France saw a general depreciation in its social life. The cholera epidemic of 1832 in Paris, rise in prostitution, criminality, infanticide and suicide filled up pages in the statistical publications concerning Paris in the first half of the nineteenth century. The lower classes people equated with ‘barbarians’, ‘savages’, ‘nomads’ were now also branded as ‘dangerous classes’ and clubbed with ‘labouring classes’ due to the brotherhood of poverty that they both shared. The concept of ‘dangerous classes’ can be traced back to Balzac’s Com`edie humaine and Codes des gens honn`etes where he describes this new class of threatening people. According to him, ‘Thieves have a language, leaders and a police of their own; and in London, where their association is better organised, they have their own syndics, their parliament and their own deputies.’ Balzac describes ‘dangerous classes’26 as ‘groups apart, despite their extension underground into the laboring classes and despite their aristocratic relations’. He continually described the lower classes as threatening the social order. They threatened it through the lower groups who lived near the haunts of crime, like the beggars. In the later years of his life, Balzac portrayed criminality as ‘emanating from the popular masses as a whole... something ordinary and genuinely social’. For Proudhon, the barbarians symbolised ‘proletarians’. Savages, barbarians, nomads, and the labouring classes expressed the racial character of social antagonism in the Paris of this period. The social group considered each other, judged each other and confronted each other in terms of race.27 In England too, a similar situation prevailed where a strong pestilence was shown towards gypsies, nomads and tramps in the nineteenth century. They were a despised lot who were treated as scourge and parasites of the society. In an essay written in 1888 by J.W. Powell, Director, US Bureau of Ethnology in the journal The American Anthropologist titled ‘From Barbarism to Civilisation’ writes ‘Often individuals have become parasitic, and there are parasitic communities, like the gypsies, and history may even reveal to us parasitic tribes, whose existence has never yet been clearly pointed out. The fact remains, that these individuals and communities, though parasitic, do not exemplify the culture by which they are surrounded.’ Many nomadic communities were hunted down by the administration during colonial times in Africa, Asia, Europe and Latin America. The chief reason for this scorn towards a mobile population was the inability to trace, track, and therefore control a moving

248 Swaraj and the Reluctant State population in the imperial colonies. It was precisely during this time that colonial India during the nineteenth century was witnessing many changes in its social body as well as body politic. A new type of crime called thuggee whose history dates back to the thirteenth century became a sore on the social landscape of North India in the first half of the nineteenth century. It therefore became pertinent that thuggee needed to be weeded out if the Empire wished to rule the land and therefore in 1836, the British came out with The Thuggee Act XXX of 1836. A spate of similar legislations was to follow suit later. Deviant ‘Bodies’ and The Honest ‘Subject’: Contextualising the Criminal Tribes Act, 1871 During the early nineteenth century, the British found that certain communities in North and South India were involved in a cult of ‘extraordinary crimes’ popularly called ‘thuggee’ 28 by the native population. Thuggee was different form other kinds of criminal activity as it was organised like a secret society founded on the basis of a close avowed faithfulness and loyalty towards the gang and its principles of secrecy. The phenomenon of ‘thuggee’ involved not just duping travelers of their belongings but killing them either by strangling or by mutilating the body parts and stabbing the victim in a merciless manner. The thugs or ‘deceivers’ were also called Phansigars and had a vocabulary of secret signs and secret language called Ramasi or Ramaseeana. They adhered to a religious tradition and were ardent followers of Kali, a Hindu goddess who was supposed to devour the dead bodies of her followers’ victims. The thugs were hailed as ‘social bandits’ and taken as heroes by the common people since their victims comprised wealthy and the pompouous. On the other hand, in the eyes of the Empire, they were the ‘deviant bodies’. The thugs did not attack everyone and excluded certain sections of the population like women, gold and iron and brass workers, smiths, carpenters, and stonecutters.29 Later however, they did away with their established taboo and started killing people indiscriminately. At the height of this sect’s activity, tens of thousands of travellers were killed annually.30 However, thugs did not attack parties which included Europeans, so it was not a crime which directly affected the safety of British travellers.31 Sleeman listed various peripatetic communities as thug-tribes.32 In this list of trouble-makers for the Empire, Sleeman also included mendicant bands whom he suspected of belonging to ‘monastic orders’ analogous with the Pindaris, thugs and dacoits, in being composed ‘of persons floating loosely upon society, without property or character, with the object of acquiring the property of others.33 Another form of crime which fell under the colonial categorisation of ‘crimes extra-ordinaire’ was ‘dacoity’34 and which involved armed

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 249 robbery and this too like thugge had its own secret society of dacoits, its own gang of operators and facilitators. This became a major concern for law and order in the empire and a chief obsession with the crown. These developments in the early nineteenth century instilled such a threat and scare in the hearts of the colonial administrators that a special wing called ‘Thugee and Dacoity Department’ was created in 1835 within the Government of India, with civil servant William Sleeman as its Superintendent. Sleeman as the chief architect of this campaign made some meticulous recordings of thug beliefs, slang and superstition, and which seemed to differentiate between the hereditary cult-oriented criminal and the casual offender. One of the peripatetic bands examined by Sleeman as a dacoit tribe called themselves Bhats (usually translated as bards) but were Sansias, Kanjars, Mahars, Jats, ‘according to the country in which they happen to be, for they have nowhere any fixed habitations, and the people among them whom they encamp, call them after the wandering or vagrant tribe, whom they appear most to resemble’.35 The Anti-Thugee Campaign ran for nearly a decade from 1824-1841, and by 1870, thuggee was almost extinct. One of the instrumental factors leading to the suppression of thuggee was the introduction of railways and telegraph by the British.36 The Thuggee and Dacoity Department however, remained till 1904 when it was replaced by the Central Criminal Intelligence Department (CID). The symbolism of ‘subjects’ and ‘bodies’ lay in the fact that while the former were disciplined, loyal and honest and were therefore bestowed a name, the latter were deviant and criminal and posed a threat to the Empire. They therefore remain anonymous and therefore just ‘bodies’. To treat this malaise and free it from pestilence, the British came up with a new piece of legislation called The Thuggee Act XXX of 1836. End of Innocence: The Criminal Tribes Act, 1871 The first half of the twentieth century can be identified as one of the nodal points in the history of the idea of Indian ‘tribe’. According to Schendel, ‘the English ‘tribe’ or ‘Tribal’ was first introduced in Bengal by the imperial administration and foreign anthropologists.’ 37 A systematic study on Tribal or more specifically Tribal studies began with the establishment of the Asiatic Society of Bengal in 1784.38 The use of the term ‘tribe’ was first made in 1871 although the criterion employed was ambiguous till in 1901 when a somewhat clearer definition emerged. According to this, tribes were identified and described as those who practiced animism; this expression was later replaced by Tribal religion. Later in subsequent census enumeration, although other dimensions like geographical isolation and primitive

250 Swaraj and the Reluctant State conditions of living were added to it; but what remained as the mark of Tribal signifier was religion delineated either as animism or Tribal religion. The various kinds of information collected on tribes during the colonial period in the form of handbooks, monographs, and census passed though phases. Vidyarthi describes this phase of Tribal study in India as the formative period dating from 1874-1919. The other two phases are identified as constructive (1920-1949 and the analytical phase i.e. from 1950 onwards. The former is traced to the period when anthroplogy was introduced as a curriculum.39 The term ‘tribe’ was actually a product of the process of the construction of social categories by the colonial state. This process which attributed the Indian aboriginal with fixed and immutable categories was a reflection of a larger process of the essentialisation of India by the West. Theory of Social Evolution, its centrality in the discourse on the ‘Tribal’ issue and the significance of anthropometric intervention as a means of enforcing racial distinction all played a pivotal role in the shaping of a modern nation state. The late nineteenth century was a turbulent and trying period for the British policy makers in India. This period witnessed unemployment, strikes, economic depression, and a growing political radicalism.40 In the mother country too, increasing crime rate, vagrancy, poverty, unemployment, alcoholism and a deep social malaise was beginning to grow strong. One of the issues which the new imperium was obsessed with was property. The magistrates, the superintendent of police and any other British official rallied against the disrespect shown towards the institution of property by these tribes. In the West, gradually, a severe penal code developed due to the preoccupation with private property. Michel Foucault’s work Discipline and Punish (1977) unravels two intertwined threads: the penal system and the methods of punishment were made more stringent. Foucault’s work Discipline and Punish focuses on France alone and takes the reader through two centuries of penal punishments; the seventeenth to the nineteenth. The central theme deals with the change in the penal system in France with the rise of the bourgeoisie and the rapid industrialisation of the West as a result of which private property became pivotal to the western economy. Industrialisation also brought in its wake condemnation of vagabondage, of people who did no work, of beggary, demise in alms-giving with the rapid progress of industrialisation and the growth of private property. A more stringent attitude towards the lowest classes of people who were far more prone to theft than any other class was being observed. This aspect of Foucault’s work helps us to analyse the British colonial policy towards the wandering ‘criminal castes’ and ‘castes’ whose low caste status coincided with their weak economic position. With an entrenched

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 251 prejudice against purposelessness, unsettled life of vagabonds and beggars it was natural to assume that the poor, scantily clad and fed tribes, roaming without fixed destination, were a threat to property and to law and order. The legislations which ensued in the second half of the nineteenth century colonial India was just a culmination of the repressive measures enacted by the British administration in the past. The Forest Laws of 1878 and the Akbari Laws of 1890 connected to the institution of private property were the most representative of repressive legislations. These laws brought those lands that had forest cover or significant wildlife under private possession of the government in order to control and regulate the transfer of forest produce. It is worth noting that owing to demographic pressure, the Tribals have historically been pushed away from the plains, and forced into hills and forests. This gradual elimination from their resources had pushed the Tribals occasionally to lapse into criminality ‘owing to their shrinking subsistence base, the Tribal world take to plunder. Matters would become worse in a famine when they would descend from hills to loot villages which invited heavy reprisals.’41 A good example of some Tribals taking to crime because of hunger were the Bhils. They turned from village watchmen into robbers under the onslaught of famine. Significantly enough, the forest was the fringe zone where the Tribal population had their dwellings and sustained themselves. They formed the ‘deviant’ and the marginalised populace who were outside the bounds of the state whom the kings despised and the rulers hated. However, for the Tribal man, the forest formed a ‘carnivalesque sphere’; a cathartic zone where kings were mocked at and priests despised in folk songs and tell-tales. In these liberated areas, colonial rules were flouted and given a tinge of protest by the indigenous population. Some of the social customs and religious practices followed and diligently observed by the Tribal as well as peripatetic communities was abhorred and revulsed by the British in India. One such observance of an old custom was female infanticide. This resulted in the passage of the Female Infanticide Act of 1870 which evoked greatest disgust in North Western Provinces. The passage of this act was symbolic in many ways as it sounded the triumph of repressive measures over those who were demanding conciliation and reform. According to Malvika Kasturi (1994), this act also represented an ‘important moment in nineteenth century legal discourse on crime, where those sections of the colonial subject population whose culturally-specific actions were deemed deviant were interrogated, classified and controlled by the administrative, legal and coercive structures of the Government of India.42

252 Swaraj and the Reluctant State There was a moral pressure from the colonies to check social and economic menace from spreading further since it would have proved fatal for maintaining law and order in general and the prospect of a seething rebellion in the near future. It was in these circumstances that the late nineteenth century in India witnessed a unique kind of formation never seen before. One of the most immediate consequences of the assorted corpus of knowledge systems and the concomitant ‘effect’ of a colonial state desirous of a close surveillance over the natives was the enactment of the Criminal Tribes Act (CTA) in India by the colonial government in 1871. According to the Criminal Tribes Act, there was a strong belief by the colonial government that certain groups were ‘addicted to the systematic commission of non-bailable offences.’43 A glimpse of the colonial attitude towards the hereditary notion of criminality gets reflected in J.H. Stephens44 was quoted to have said the following before the enactment of the Criminal Tribes Act (Act XXVII of 1871): The special feature of India is the caste system. As it is, traders go by caste; a family of carpenters will be carpenter a century or five century hence, if they last so long. It means a tribe whose ancestors were criminals from time immemorial, who are themselves destined by the usage of caste to commit crimes and whose descendants will be offenders against law, until the whole tribe is exterminated or accounted for in the manner of Thugs. When a man tells you that he is an offender against law he has been so from the beginning and will be so to the end. Reform is impossible, for it is his trade, his caste, I may almost say his religion is to commit crime. (Raghavaiah: 1968, 188-89)

This Act was first applied to Northwest Provinces, Oudh and Punjab and later in 1911 a revised version was applied to the whole of India which included the Bombay and Madras Presidencies. This was done to provide greater scopic surveillance and judicial control over the so called ‘criminal tribes and castes’. These judicial measures set the scene for the body of the ‘criminal tribesman’ to become a subject of colonial discourse and reform during a period extending from the era of ‘High Empire’ and utilitarian reform at the close of the nineteenth century to the end of colonial rule in the middle of the twentieth.45 The Criminal Tribes Act of 1871 in reality along with a few other mechanisms like the census and fingerprint technology46 was born out of a dire necessity to have an effective political surveillance, colonial subjugation and sedentarisation. According to Sengoopta, ‘Fingerprint technology was born in British India, where the “curious combination of despotic rule and intense insecurity” led colonial administrators to devise a means of identification for surveillance on a wide scale.’47 According to the Criminal Tribes Act, it was supposed that crime was

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 253 like caste and possessed hereditary traits and passed on from one generation to another. This labelling of criminality was made to produce ‘docile bodies’48 so that ‘biopower’49 and a political ‘surveillance’50 over the natives could be effected through the state acting as the grand ‘panoptican’.51 Bodies do not exist in terms of an a priori essence, anterior to techniques and practices that are imposed on them. They are effects, products, or symptoms of specific techniques and regulatory practices.52 In short, bodies are points on which and from which the disciplinary power of scientific investigations and their popular appropriations are exercised.53 Scientific and popular modes of representing bodies are never innocent but always tie bodies to larger systems of knowledge production, and, indeed, to social and material inequality (Foucault: 1979, 1980). As C.A. Bayly54 observes in this respect that the British advance from the eighteenth century owed much to the observation and penetration of Indian society, and it was by ‘controlling news writers, corralling groups of spies and runners, and placing agents at religious centres, in bazaars and among bands of military men and wanderers’ that the Company had successfully been able to anticipate the coalitions of the Indian powers and to plot their enemies’ movements and alliances. According to Gautam Chakravarty, ‘This interest in surveillance was necessitated by the fact that the British empire grew by some 4,700,000 square miles between 1874 and 1902; an expansion that stretched national resources but created in the process new, extra systemic, methods of conflict management.’55 C.A. Bayly speaks of a parallel system of information gathering system by the Empire which he terms as ‘information order’56 where the entire state acted as a panopticon and everyone kept a watch on everyone else and passed on the information to the concerned authorities. Right from harkaras of medieval times to prostitutes, drug users, menials, bazarians (or bazaar rumour-mongers), barkandazis (musketmen), bantirias (forest watchmen), paiks (controller of ferries), ghatwals (Tribal watchmen) and many such other government staff formed the circle of a secret society of information gatherers. Sanjay Nigam has contended that the category of criminal tribes was a ‘colonial stereotype’ fashioned to justify the punitive ‘disciplining and policing’ of sections of the population that were unwilling to accept the new moral order that the British sought to impose on rural society.57 The developing disciplines of anthropometry and anthropology, aided in this effort and sought to classify and control these groups58 and contributed to notions of ‘hereditary criminality’. The ostensible purpose of the 1871 Act had been to suppress ‘hereditary criminal’ sections of the society.59

254 Swaraj and the Reluctant State It also helped the state to separate supposedly delinquent ‘bodies’ from honest ‘subjects’. In return, it conferred a specific social identity upon such groups, thereby socially stigmatising them.60 The constitution of the notion of ‘criminal caste’ was a gradual process, involving changes not only in the way in which particular Indian communities were represented but also in the way in which history itself was represented. One of such representational tropes used in historicising communities was ‘Orientalism’. David Arnold has observed that the Criminal Tribes Act was used against ‘wandering groups, nomadic petty traders and pastoralists, gypsy types61, hill and forest dwelling Tribals, in short against a wide variety of marginals who did not conform to the colonial pattern of settled agriculture and wage labour. It was supposed that criminality had genetic traits and passed down from one generation to another and that particular types of crime were associated with particular skills which were specific to these Tribal groups.62 Moreover, eugenics, a science of race was gaining acceptance in the wider public in England and in Europe in general. The reasons for enacting this legislation were compounded by several factors. Firstly, all those groups and communities who did not have a settled way of life and were given to laziness, drifting tendencies, vagrancy and waywardness of various kinds were branded as ‘criminal tribes’.63 Secondly, the colonial state in general was suspicious of the moving people since ‘mobility’ was seen as a potent threat64 and therefore wandering mendicants65, itinerant peddlers66 and smaller mobile traders, small peripatetic communities and mobile ‘vagrant’ groups were most likely to be classed as criminals.67 The CTA therefore was a tool to sedentarise a big section of the population from whom the colonial power sensed threat. This also included a sizeable section of the despised population of the eunuchs and the prostitutes.68 By 1924, it was a common held belief that eunuchs and prostitutes belonged to a specific ‘caste’ and were proliferators of communicable diseases. It was therefore necessary according to the Empire to keep a check on them by way of surveillance and criminalising. The Contagious Diseases Act passed in 1864 in the Parliament in England necessitated inquiries into veneral diseases in the armed forces and resulted in arrests of prostitutes in certain ports and army towns. Lal bazaar and Lock Hospitals became emblematic images of the prostitute, disease and a vestigial product of society that needed to be done away with. Also, by assembling these ‘criminals’ in settlements, their labour could be utilised in production and it became possible to enforce a strict discipline coupled with a vigorous work-schedule. This would have also led to a robust ‘rural work force and Victorian norms. Besides, the

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 255 tribe’s low proximity to the British administration led to their further marginalisation and exploitation by the colonial rule. In Punjab alone, some 150,000 Punjabis were roped in under the CTA.69 Fourthly, many of its members were acrobats, singers, dancers, tightrope-walkers and fortune tellers.70 More and more, like their counterparts all over the world, street entertainment provided by these mobile communities was seen to be a threat to public order.71 Lastly and very importantly, while some of these nomadic and itinerant communities had accommodated themselves to colonial rule through the provisions of zamindari settlement or the provisional alliances of princely states, there were still others who continued to appear resistant both to British rule and to rural law and order. Those who did resist and oppose British rule were branded as ‘criminals’. The so-called Sepoy Mutiny of 1857 had already signalled a warning bell for a prospective rebellion in British India in the future. A few of these groups had even participated in the struggle for independence in 1857 like the Goojars which elicited the return of their ‘marauding propensities’.72 The denomination of certain castes and tribes as ‘criminal’ emerged from the various administrative depictions of groups that preoccupied military and police agencies of government. According to Radhika Singha, ‘The conception of communities socialised into criminality, with its members plundering or robbing as a ‘profession’, did not suddenly emerge in the 1830s. The theme has a history coterminus with the very inauguration of the Company’s judicial initiatives.’73 Tolen however shares a different view. According to him, ‘the constitution of the notion of a ‘criminal caste’ was a gradual process, involving changes not only in the way particular Indian communities were represented but also in the way history itself was represented.’74 The genesis of criminality attached to certain people and professions like gypsies, nomads and wandering groups goes back to ‘mother country’ itself.75 It was a popular perception that these people were vagrants, drifters, and tramps, were lazy, and not given to any kind of wage labour and therefore needed to be disciplined in order to learn the western work ethics. The only way to wriggle out of this chaos in the colonies as well as in England was to brand certain communities as criminal tribes76 in order to control, punish and reform them. The reformatory task was undertaken by the Salvation Army which set up camps in the country in order to rehabilitate and ‘decriminalise’ these peripatetic groups and communities. Meena Radhakrishna gives the example of one such settlement of the Salvation Army at Stuartpuram in Guntur in Andhra Pradesh. Here about six thousand Yerukalas, the Telgu offshoot of the Korava community which was declared as a

256 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Criminal Tribe in 1911 lived for several decades starting from 1913 onwards.77 Therefore, in England, the vagabonds, nomads and gypsies who had been despised of due to their itinerant lifestyle, uncivilised behavior and unsettled ways of living were roped under this infamous discriminatory and inhuman law. The Criminal Tribes Act of 1871 can be seen as a watershed in the popular understanding of criminality, crime and henceforth the so called ‘criminal tribes’ in India.78 Although the Criminal Tribes Act has been tinkered with many times with slight modifications but till date the basic essence of the act remains intact. The CTA was replaced by a series of Habitual Offenders Acts but the basic thrust of the Act i.e. identifying certain Tribal groups as ‘habitual offenders’ or ‘born criminals’ continues till today. When India gained her independence in 1947, there were close to 128 tribes79 nearing 3.5 million and 1% of the total population in India who were branded as criminal tribes of the country.80 In 1952, these ex-criminal tribes were given the status of Denotified Tribes81 or Vimukta Jatis82 by the Government of India.83 But though the ‘legal status’ was changed but the ‘social status’, that of criminality remained intact and was fossilised with the passage of time.84 Epilogue The CTA of 1871 was a development quite unprecedented in India because firstly there had been no previous attempts to stop Tribal criminality at the all-India level. Moreover, all the former attempts by individual kings at crushing Tribals had been sporadic and violent and had not been sustained over a long stretch of time as was to happen in the British Raj. Since the implementation of the Criminal Tribes Act in 1871, the legislation was revised in 1897, 1911, 1924, and 1947. But the core element of the CTA remained intact, that of criminalising certain communities due to the mobile nature of their life-style. The CTA of 1871 raised new questions on the way crime, criminality, and sexuality were to be understood and conceptualised. This shift in the administrative perception was due to the fact that the British had come to India with their own evolved values, institutions, structures and ideological perspectives. Whatever one may argue, it still remains a crude fact that even after 140 years after the promulgation of this notorious law, the itinerant communities still continue to be haunted, hunted and damned by the post-colonial state much like in the past. A law which was passed to exterminate those sections of the society who were largely seen as threat and pestilence for the Raj still poses the same question before the post-colonial state. The Criminal Tribes Act was more like a ‘psychological stone-walling’ which has plagued a

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 257 whole generation of peripatetic community and forced them to live a life in oblivion and in hiding. REFERENCE V. Raghavaiah, Tribes of India, Bharatiya Adimjati Sevak Sangh, Vol. 2, 1968, pp. 188-89.

NOTES 1. David Scott, ‘Colonial Governmentality’, Social Text, No. 43, (Autumn, 1995), pp. 191-220. According to Scott, colonial govermentality can be understood as the ‘power directed at the destruction and reconstruction of colonial space so as to produce not so much extractive effects on colonial bodies, as governing effects on colonial conduct’. 2. The pre-Victorians and Victorians such as James Mill (1773-1836), Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) and John Ruskin (1819-1900) used violent reaction and a strong abhorrent attitude in their writings towards Indian society and culture. 3. Vinay Lal, History and Theory 40, (Los Angeles, Feb. 2001), pp. 135-48. 4. Caste proved to be the biggest hindrance in the ‘proselytising mission’ (referred to as ‘harvest in souls’; the ultimate index of missionary success as mentioned in the yearly reports of the Mission Board to be sent to England) for both the Evangelical and Anglicist missionaries during colonial rule as it had religious injunctions and sanctions to it. Though the missionaries attained a limited success in their proselytising efforts, yet those new entrants were always from the lower caste gentry. Tired and frustrated with their inability to convert upper caste Indians chiefly Brahmins, they started labelling caste as being ‘Satan’s masterpiece’ ‘obstacle’ ‘anarchic’ or as ‘absurdity of absurdity’. 5. This was aptly described by Salman Rushdie as ‘Raj Revival’ in his article titled ‘The Raj Revival’ in The Black and White Media Show Book: Handbook for the Study of Racism and Television by John Twitchin (ed), (England, 1992). This article was originally written as part of a write-up in the Sunday Observer, April, 1984. 6. (a) The term ‘Tribal’ is derived from ‘tribe’ and is a colonial construct although its notion is real. Virginius Xaxa (2008) opines that although the category ‘tribe’ was initiated and introduced in the first census in British India in 1871 yet it did not have a clear definition. The term was institutionalised by the use of heuristic tools like anthropometry, ethnology, etc and later by adding it as a category ‘Scheduled Tribes’ in the Indian Constitution. But the parameters used to define them are always in contrast to the modern man who is literate, noble, civilised, progressive and developed. Tribal groups on the other hand are noble savages and therefore presage development and modernity. (b) Virginius Xaxa in the special article titled ‘Tribes as Indigenous People

258 Swaraj and the Reluctant State of India’ in the Economic and Political Weekly, December 18, 1999, adds that later the terms ‘tribes’ and ‘castes’ were employed in a cognate manner as in Risley’s Tribes and Castes in India. To quote one such case, it would be apt to mention about Alexander Dow, an officer in the East India Company who prepared one of the first British reports about the Hindu social order. He referred to castes as ‘tribes’. He writes ‘The Hindoos have, from all antiquity, been divided into four great tribes, each of which comprehends a variety of castes. These tribes do not inter-marry, eat, drink, or in any manner associate with one another.... the first, and the most noble tribe, are the Brahmins...’ As quoted in Alexander Dow’s The History of Hindostan, Translated from the Persian, 3 Vols. (London, 1768-1771). (b) According to Anuja Agarwal, in the Indian context, the notion of ‘tribe’ continues to be more a political than a sociological one (see Beteille, 1991). Another article by Marcus Schleiter and Erk de Maker in an IIAS bulletin The Newsletter (No. 53, Spring 2010) titled Indigeneity as a Cultural Practice: ‘Tribe’ and the State in India echo the same view. They maintain that Tribal identity in the present circumstances of political engineering and political economy is to be studied not merely as a colonial invention but more as a process whereby Tribal identities are being sustained, redefined, created and denied. Available as online IIAS Newsletter at http://www. iias. nl. files/IIAS_NL53-1617. pdf. Accessed on 05.04.2010 at 2.15 p.m. 7. Etymologically, Adivasi is made up of two words, adi which means ‘beginning’ or ‘of earliest times’ and vasi that is ‘residents of’’ and is a close translation of ‘aborigine’. Also referred to as indigenous, indigene, first people, native people, autochtonous or ethnic people who inhabit a geographic region with which they have the earliest known historical connection. The indigenous people still follow primitive customs, rituals, lifeworlds and their own code of conduct in terms of morality and righteousness etc. There have been much contestations in the past regarding the usage of these terms especially between Adivasi, tribe and indigenous. Nowadays, the term ‘indigenous people’ is being frequently used by the trans-national organisation like the UN and its various agencies. 8. Nicholas Dirks, Castes of Mind: Colonialism and the Making of Modern India, (United States, 2001), pp. 151-72. According to Dirks, hookswinging raised many controversies in the administrative circles in 1850s since it was an ancient Hindu custom practiced in South India whereby devotion to divinity was expressed and indexed through the degree of self-inflicted pain and mortification. Bodies were pierced and made to bleed and it was supposed that more the pain endured by the devotee, closer was he/she to the divinity and subsequently receive the divine blessing. Amount of pain endured was therefore directly proportional to the distance between the devotee and the divinity. For the British, this ritual practice in penance reminded them of the central event of Christianity, Christ’s crucifixion. 9. Firewalking is an ancient religious practice whereby devotees either walk or run barefoot on a carpet of fire on ground. The intensity of penance is an indicator of the devotees’ proximity and devotion to the particular divinity.

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 259 10. This was reported from among the Tribal ‘Meriahs’ and ‘Khonds’ in a journal called Church Missionary Intelligencer which ran a series of reports in 1852. 11. Sati comes from the Sanskrit sat meaning pure or chaste and was a medieval Indian ritual common in the western region of India especially among the upper caste Rajputs which started as a way to defend one’s family and caste honour, chastity, faithfulness and devotion towards the husband in the wake of a foreign invasion usually Muslim. It was an act of mass suicide and was also designated as Jauhar. According to this practice, women were supposed to collectively self-immolate themselves either voluntarily, sedated or under force sitting on her husband’s funeral pyre in case of defeat by the Mughal army while it invaded the Rajput kingdoms. The name Sati derives from Shiva’s wife Sati also known as Dakshayani who self-immolated because she was unable to bear her father Daksha’s humiliation of her husband Shiva. 12. According to Dirks, ‘much early colonial ethnography was in fact written by missionaries who observed Indian society more closely than did the British officials but experienced it in relation to their primary concern with Christian conversion’. 13. (a) Rachel J. Tolen, ‘Colonising and Transforming the Criminal Tribesman: The Salvation Army in British India’ in American Ethnologist, Vol. 18, No. 1, Feb., 1991, pp. 106-25. Tolen is of the view that ‘colonial rule was realised not only through the consolidation of overt ‘political’ power but also through the consolidation of knowledge about the ruled’. (b) Bernard. S. Cohn, An Anthropologist Among the Historians and Other Essays, (New Delhi, 1996), ‘census represented a model of the Victorian encyclopedic quest for total knowledge’. This dire urge of the colonial administration to know about the ‘ruled’ that is the people, and the various aspects of their life was fuelled by the imperial ideology that one can rule only if one knows the ruled properly. Land revenue system, local institutions, linguistic and grammatical issues, as well as local social life and customs had to be understood properly in order to have social intercourse with everyday affairs and governmentality. (c) Bernard Cohn, Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge: The British in India, (United States, 1995), shows that the study of Indian languages was a gateway to the colonial project of control and command. He shows how the Orientalist imagination led to brilliant antiquarian collections, archaeological findings, and photographic forays were in fact forms of constructing an India that could be better packaged, inferiorised and ruled. 14. T.K. Oommen, ‘In Search of Qualitative Sociology in India’, Qualitative Sociology, Springer, Netherlands, Vol. II, Numbers 1-2/March, 1988, pp. 44-54. 15. The various means employed by the colonial rule to gather information about the natives was called ‘investigative modalities’ by Bernard Cohn. According to him, ‘an investigative modality includes the definition of a body of information that is needed, the procedures by which appropriate knowledge is gathered, its ordering and classification and then how it is

260 Swaraj and the Reluctant State

16. 17. 18.

19.

20. 21.

22.

transformed into usable forms such as published reports, statistical returns, histories, gazetteers, legal codes and encyclopedias. Some of them were general in nature like historiography and museology. While other were disciplinary and scientific in nature and its practitioners were professionals. This included economics, ethnology, tropical medicine, comparative law, and cartograpy. Mukul Kumar, ‘Relationship of Caste and Crime in India: A Discourse Analysis’, Economic and Political Weekly, March 6, 2004. Nicholas Dirks, Castes of Mind: Colonialism and the Making of Modern India, (United States, 2001), p. 123. It was a knowledge system built upon the half bred receipe of sacred scriptures, conversations with Brahmins coupled with a reliance on the administrators/ethnographers own observation and cognition which in few cases belied reality. Gloria Goodwin Raheja, ‘Caste, Colonialism and the Speech of the Colonised: Entextualisation and Disciplinary Control in India’ in American Ethnologist, Vol. 23, No. 3 (Aug. 1996), pp. 494-513. According to Raheja, this kind of a situation where on the one hand the speech of the colonised in the form of oral folklore is written down by colonial administrators and isolated from the situation of its production and on the other hand these utterances are recontextualised in administrative reports and records that have as their purpose the efficient control of the colonised is a ‘double moment’. Risley, H.H., Tribes and Castes of Bengal, ‘Preface’, p. vii. In most eighteenth century writings, the terms ‘tribe’ and ‘caste’ have been used synonymously. Virginius Xaxa in the essay in Economic and Political Weekly, dated December 18, 1999, titled ‘Tribes as Indigenous People of India’ says that later the terms ‘tribe’ and ‘caste’ were employed in a cognate manner as in Risley’s Tribes and Castes in India. To quote one such case, it would be apt to mention about Alexander Dow, an officer in the East India Company who prepared one of the first British reports about the Hindu social order. He referred to castes as ‘tribes’. He writes ‘The Hindoos have, from all antiquity, been divided into four great tribes, each of which comprehends a variety of castes. These tribes do not inter-marry, eat, drink, or in any manner associate with one another.... The first, and the most noble tribe, are the Brahmanas...’ As quoted in Alexander Dow’s The History of Hindostan Translated from the Persian, 3 Vols. (London, 1768-1771). (a) Mukul Kumar, ‘Relationship of Caste and Crime in India: A Discourse Analysis’, Economic and Political Weekly, March 6, 2004. According to Mukul in the West, the popular and commonsensical notion of criminality shared certain common scientific discourses. Both agreed that typical physiological features like flattened nose, scanty beard and lopsided skull were markers of a criminal. Till the middle of the nineteenth century, the relationship between skull, brain and social behaviour attracted great interest. However towards the end of the nineteenth century, biological explanations were mostly replaced by sociological ones which was concerned mainly with the living conditions of groups. It was around this time that a new concept

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 261

23. 24. 25. 26.

27. 28.

of ‘dangerous class’ began to be used in administrative accounts for groups of people or free floating population which lived at the margins and in abject misery. In France and in England, this category gained ground in the early nineteenth century and was supposed to be the bourgeoisie apprehensions for societal disorder and disbalance. (b) According to Nicholas Dirks, the most well known of these social categorisations as well as discriminatory ploys which later sedimented as a theory were the so called ‘martial races’ and the ‘criminal castes’. Those who were branded as ‘martial races’ were believed to be ‘loyal’, ‘brave and chivalrous’ having a ‘pride of race’, ‘manly’, ‘honest’, ‘simple’, free and a member of the ruling race’, and ‘jealous of their honour’. The communities which fell under this bracket were the Pathans, Gorkhas, and Sikhs etc. According to Capt. A.H. Bingley (1898, 162), the Rajputs were martial races par excellence. These were some of the characteristics that the British army officers looked in recruiting the so called ‘martial races’ of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. The ‘criminal castes’ on the other hand were those who were law-breakers, did not have a settled way of life, indulged in criminal activities like thieving, thuggee, dacoity, vagrancy etc. But it seems that these categorisations especially that of the ‘martial race’ went against the already established characteristics even according to their already established standards while recruiting people for the Bombay Army. (c) Philip Constable, ‘The Marginalisation of a Dalit Martial Race in Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Century Western India’ in The Journal of Asian Studies, 60, No. 2 (May 2001), pp. 439-78 says that despite characterising the Mangs and Mahars (who were regarded as caste Hindus as ‘untouchables’ now known as Dalits) as being able-bodied, muscular, handsome, intelligent and quick to assimilate and possessing physical courage (1896, 114) by Henry Baden Powell, yet despite their military achievements and martial characteristics were no longer recruited into the Bombay Army, were prohibited from further enlistment, and reclassified as a non-martial race. This was restricted only to the upper caste Hindus chiefly Brahmins. Nicholas Dirks, Castes of Mind: Colonialism and the Making of Modern India, (United States, 2001). Louis Chevalier, Laboring Classes and Dangerous Classes in Paris During the First Half of the Nineteenth Century, (London, 1973), p. 505. Mukul Kumar, ‘Relationship of Caste and Crime in India: A Discourse Analysis’, Economic and Political Weekly, March 6, 2004. According to Mukul, in England, the concept of ‘dangerous classes’ developed from 1815 onwards but its earliest usage can be recorded from 1849 onwards and had a socioeconomic reason to it. Louis Chevalier, Laboring Classes and Dangerous Classes in Paris During the First Half of the Nineteenth Century, (London, 1973), p. 505. The British officials defined Thugee as a specific, ritualistic form of highway robbery and murder by strangulation. The thugs or deceivers were also referred to as ‘phansigars’ or as ‘noose operators’ or simply as ‘stranglers’

262 Swaraj and the Reluctant State

29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

34.

35. 36. 37.

38.

39. 40. 41.

by the British troops and spoke a ‘thug’ language called Ramasi or Ramaseeana. But Radhika Singha in Despotism by Law: Crime and Justice in Early Colonial India, (US, 1998) contends that the Thuggee Act XXX of 1836 was passed by the colonial administration without explaining what exactly a thug or the crime of thuggee was. Singha in a footnote in the same chapter titled ‘Criminal Communities: The Thuggee Act XXX of 1836’ says “In Anglo-Indian parlance, thugs were believed to constitute a hereditary criminal fraternity, organised around beliefs and rites which upheld a profession of inveigling and strangling travellers. In contrast to dacoits, thugs were believed to murder by stealth rather than by armed attack. However, the defining line between dacoity, thuggee and highway robbery was never very clear.’ David Annan, ‘Thuggee’ in Norman MacKenzie (ed) Secret Societies, (London, 1967), p. 70. Ibid. Radhika Singha, Despotism by Law: Crime and Justice in Early Colonial India, (US, 1998). Cf. Ramaseeana, pp. 85, 126, 144 for references to Multani, Lodaha and Qulundera thugs. Report on Budhak dacoits, 1849, p. 268. However, he also acknowledged that religious mendicancy had been the ‘great safety valve through which the unquiet transition spirit has found vent under our strong and settled government’. Rambles and Recollections, I, p. 446. Act XXIV of 1843 was for the conviction of professional dacoits, who belonged to certain tribes, systematically carrying on their lawless pursuits in different parts of the country. According to Bhangya Bhukya, in ‘Delinquent Subjects: Dacoity and the creation of a surveillance society in Hyderabad State’, in Indian Economic and Social History Review, 2007, 44:179-212, dacoities began largely as a result of famines and were perpetuated due to the colonial state’s cruel practice of detention and surveillance. Also as we shall see later in this essay, a few communities branded as criminal found it impossible to make an honest living and therefore committed dacoity. Report on Budhuk Dacoits, 1849, p. 265. David Annan, ‘Thuggee’ in Norman MacKenzie (ed) Secret Societies, (London, 1967), p. 83. Willem van Schendel et al, Beyond the Tribal Mind-Set: ‘Studying NonBengali People’s in Bangladesh and West Bengal’ in Sarkar Sumit et al (eds), Women and Social Reform in Modern India: A Reader, (US, 2008). Virginius Xaxa, Women and Gender in the Study of Tribes in India in Sumit Sarkar et al (eds), Women and Social Reform in Modern India: A Reader, (US, 2008), pp. 424-40. Ibid. Meena Radhakrishna: Dishonoured by History: Criminal Tribes and British Colonial Policy, (New Delhi, 2001), pp. 188. K.S. Singh (ed.), Tribal Society in India: ‘Tribal Movements’, Vol. II, p. 122, (New Delhi, 2001). As stated earlier in this essay, famine was one of the prime reasons for ‘dacoity’ to have originated and flourished in India

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 263 during the colonial regime. 42. Malvika Kasturi, ‘Law and Crime in India: British Policy and the Female Infanticide Act of 1870’, Indian Journal of Gender Studies, Vol. 1, No. 2, (1994), pp. 169-93. 43. Introducing the Bill of the 1871 Act, T.V. Stephens, a Law Member of the Executive Council who moved the Bill declared, ‘... ‘professional criminals’...really means...a tribe whose ancestors were criminals from times immemorial, who are destined by the usage of caste to commit crime. Therefore when a man tells you he is a Buddhuk or a Kunjur, or a Sonoria, he tells you...that he is an offender against the law, has been so ever since the beginning, and will be so to the end, that reform is impossible...’ 44. He was a member of the Viceroy’s Executive Council 45. Rachel J. Tolen, ‘Colonising and Transforming the Criminal Tribesman: The Salvation Army in British India’ in American Ethnologist, Vol. 18, No. 1, Feb. 1991, pp. 106-25. 46. (a) Charles Richmond Henderson, ‘Control of Crime in India’ Journal of the American Institute of Criminal Law and Criminology, Vol. 4, No. 3, (Sep. 1913), pp. 38-401. According to Henderson ‘the finger-print technology system is not entirely modern in India, but an elaborate method was first suggested by an Indian magistrate Sir W. Herschell, and worked out by Sir Edward. R. Henry, K.C.V.O., when he was Inspector-General of Police in Bengal.’ (b) As a result of CTA and the scientific innovations which followed thereof like the fingerprint technology, it became mandatory to fingerprint all members of designated criminal tribes over the age of 12 (Sengoopta, 2003: 124, 146). 47. Paul Knepper et al, ‘The Empire, the Police, and the Introduction of Fingerprint Technology in Malta’, Criminology and Criminal Justice, Vol. 9, No. 1, 73-92, (2009). 48. Used by Michel Foucault in his book Discipline and Punish: The Birth of a Prison, (New York, 1977), docile bodies were the products of applying technologies of extreme reigmentation like torture, discipline, punishment and prison. 49. Originally coined by Foucault, in simple words it would mean the practice of modern states and the regulation of its subjects through a plethora of subversive and intimidatory tools and techniques aimed at subjugation of bodies and control of populations. It is a technology of power, and a way of ‘managing’ people as a group. 50. Surveillance is a French word meaning ‘watching over’. In Foucaldian term, it stood for monitoring of the behaviour and activities of people usually suspected of some offence or crime so that after sometime they started surveilling themselves. 51. Originally used by Jeremy Bentham to designate his idea of an ideal prison, the term ‘Panoptican’ was later expanded by Michel Foucault to mean a kind of surveillance so intrusive and penetrating that the difference between public and private doesn’t hold. 52. Jacqueline Urla et al, In the ‘Introduction’ by Jacqueline Urla titled ‘Mapping Embodied Deviance’ in Jacqueline Urla (ed.), Deviant Bodies:

264 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Critical Perspectives on Difference in Scientific and Popular Culture, (US, 1995) 53. Michel Feher, ‘Of Bodies and Technologies’, In Discussions in Contemporary Culture. Number One, Hal Foster (ed.), (US, 1987). 54. C.A. Bayly, Empire and Information: Intelligence Gathering and Social Communication in India, 1780-1870, (United Kingdom, 1996). 55. Gautam Chakravarty, The Indian Mutiny and the British Imagination, (United Kingdom, 2005), p. 157 56. C.A. Bayly, Empire and Information: Intelligence Gathering and Social Communication in India, 1780-1870, (United Kingdom, 1996). Bayly borrows this term from Manuel Castels who speaks of ‘information city’ wherein the new information technology of the late twentieth century serves as a ‘type of social formation rather than as a simple adjunct to existing economic forces or a neutral technological process’. 57. Sanjay Nigam, ‘Disciplining and Policing the ‘Criminals by Birth’,’ Part I. ‘The Making of a Colonial Stereotype: The Criminal Tribes and Castes of North India,’ Indian Economic and Social History Review, 27, 2 (1990), pp. 131-64. 58. Nicholas Dirks, Castes of Mind: Colonialism and the Making of Modern India, (United States, 2001). 59. Meena Radhakrishna, ‘Dishonured by History: ‘Criminal Tribes’ and British Colonial Policy’, (New Delhi, 2001) (a)However, according to Andrew J. Major, these criminal tribes were differentiated from other elements in a number of ways like that of being from low caste order, vagrant, refusal to accept any codes of morality other than from the tribe itself, transmission of criminal behavior from one generation to the next and the colonial view of fighting Tribal crime on a group basis. (b) The colonial discourse on criminality was definitely based on caste, but the selection of tribes and castes that were labelled as ‘criminals’ had also to do with the history of how crime was perceived in the preceding decades. 60. Bhangya Bhukya, ‘Delinquent Subjects: Dacoity and the Creation of a Surveillance Society in Hyderabad’, Indian Economic and Social History Review, 44, (2007), pp. 179-212. 61. While giving the origin of gypsies, Joseph Matthew Sullivan in The Virginia Register, New Register, Vol. 7, No. 1 (May, 1921), pp. 9-17, says that gypsies were a vagabond race whose tribes coming originally from India scattered over Turkey, Russia, Hungary, Spain, England, and America, living by thefts, horse jockeying, fortune telling, tinkering and the like. 62. Andrew J. Major, ‘State and Criminal Tribes in Colonial Punjab: Surveillance, Control and Reclamation of the ‘Dangerous Classes’, Modern Asian Studies, 33:3: 657-688, (1999). 63. (a) It was W.W. Hunter, a senior civil servant whom the British Government had sent to take a stock-taking after a century of British rule in India and who referred these Tribal communities as ‘predatory castes’. W. Sleeman, W.W. Risley and others have written extensive anthropological accounts of the tribes existing during the colonial period. However, the most

Born to be Damned: The Colonial Construction of Criminal... 265

64.

65.

66.

67.

68.

69.

70.

71. 72.

interesting point to be noted with respect to the criminal tribes is Radhika Singha’s article ‘Providential’ Circumstances: The Thugee Campaign of the 1830s and Legal Innovation’, Modern Asian Studies, 27 (1), 1993, pp. 83146, in which she says that a move towards the criminalisation of communities was started in 1772 by Warren Hastings, well before W. Sleeman who prepared a detailed list of Criminal Tribes in India in the 1830s. (b) The tribes designated in the official records as ‘Criminal Tribes’ were enumerated as a separate social group from the 1911 census (Simhadri: 1979). Laxman D. Satya, ‘Colonial Sedentarisation and Subjugation: The Case of the Banjaras of Berar 1850-1900, Journal of Peasant Studies, Vol. 24, Issue 4, (July 1997), pp. 314-36. As reported in the Home Department, Prog, Nos. 9-20, , Judicial, 1870, 10th see Religious mendicants called “Sunnyasees” (sic.) are suspected of carrying about papers relating to political matters which spread mischievous reports against the government, tending to unsettle the minds of the people. For a more detailed discussion on small traders and peddling communities in North India, see Niladri Bhattacharya’s ‘Predicaments of Mobility: Peddlers and Itinerants in Nineteenth-century Northwestern India’, in Claude Markovits (eds.) Society and Circulation: Mobile People and Itinerant Cultures in South Asia 1750-1950, (New Delhi, 2003), pp. 163-214. Deleuze and Guattari in their book A Thousand Plateaus; second book in the Capitalism and Schizophrenia volume deals with the concept of ‘Nomadology’ according to which the kings always feared the nomads as they had the power to strike back and run away. This according to him got replicated in the colonial as well as modern times. Erica Wald: ‘From Begums to Bibis to Abandoned Females and Idle Women: sexual relationships, venereal disease and the redefinition of prostitution in early nineteenth-century India’, The Indian Economic and Social History Review, 46, 1 (2009), pp. 5-25. Andrew J. Major, ‘State and Criminal Tribes in Colonial Punjab: Surveillance, Control and Reclamation of the ‘Dangerous Classes’, Modern Asian Studies, 33:3: 657-688, (1999). (a) In academic parlance, these wandering and nomadic street entertainers are called Traditional Entertainment Groups (TEGs). (b) There is a mention of the Nat tribe in the Census Report of 1911 which classifies them as the largest number of ‘convict prisoners’ and beggars in terms of their population. Meena Radhakrishna, Dishonured by History: ‘Criminal Tribes’ and British Colonial Policy, (New Delhi, 2001) Nicholas Dirks, Castes of Mind: Colonialism and the Making of Modern India, (United States, 2001). According to the historian Eric Hobsbawm, this was a form of social banditry where those individuals living on the edges of the rural societies made their living by robbing and plundering but who were often seen by

266 Swaraj and the Reluctant State

73. 74.

75. 76.

77. 78. 79.

80.

81. 82. 83.

84.

ordinary people as heroes and icons of popular resistance. He asserts that social banditry is a widespread phenomenon known in many societies and some argue that it is still prevalent in remote areas and on high seas like the pirates. Singha, Radhika, Despotism of Law, Crime and Justice in Early Colonial India, (US, 1998). Rachel J. Tolen, ‘Colonising and Transforming the Criminal Tribesman: The Salvation Army in British India’ in American Ethnologist, Vol. 18, No. 1, Feb. 1991, pp. 106-25. Meena Radhakrishna, Dishonured by History: ‘Criminal Tribes’ and British Colonial Policy, (New Delhi, 2001). Charles Richmond Henderson, ‘Control of Crime in India’, in the Journal of the American Institute of Criminal Law and Criminology, Vol. 4, No. 3 (Sept. 1913), pp. 378-401. According to Henderson ‘There are several tribes whose real calling is robbery, ‘cattle-lifting’, burglary with violence, dacoity, and other serious offences. When these practices are connected with the sacred rules of a caste, they are not regarded as criminal and do not injure the reputation of the offender. The extension of the railways has facilitated the operation of these tribes and spread it over a wider territory. In some districts, the younger members of such tribes have been induced to take interest in agriculture and industry and have been turned away from living by depredation. On the principle of setting a thief to catch a thief, some of these men have been made useful as night watchmen and they are said to be faithful to their salt and become skilful detectives. The Salvation Army, aided by subsidies from the government, has undertaken work for these undesirable citizens and has received grants of land in the United Provinces and in the Punjab.’ Meena Radhakrishna, Dishonoured by History: Criminal Tribes and British Colonial Policy, (New Delhi, 2001). Ibid., A few literatures put the number at 150 who were branded as ‘criminal tribes’. According to Meena Radhakrishna about 200 communities were affected as a result of the CTA. Andrew J. Major, ‘State and Criminal Tribes in Colonial Punjab: Surveillance, Control and Reclamation of the ‘Dangerous Classes’, Modern Asian Studies, 33:3: (1999), pp. 657-88. Today their numbers are estimated to be 60 million. Literally meaning ‘liberated castes’. Nehru, the then Prime Minister branded the Criminal Tribes Act and later known as Habitual Offenders Act as a blot on the lawbook and scrapped this piece of legislation. He granted a new status to the criminal tribes that is ‘Denotified Tribes’. According to Anuja Agarwal, members of most denotified communities are believed to be engaged in a host of criminal and anti-social activities and therefore are seen with suspicion and treated badly by the public as well as the police.

10 Rescuing Minority Rights with Gandhi’s Help Riaz Ahmad Gandhi’s glasses are up for sale. While handing over these glasses to an Indian Army colonel in 1930s, he is reported to have said: ‘These gave me the vision to free India.’1 It would be worthwhile to try and look at India and the whole world now through his glasses and ponder over what we see. Seen through his glasses, the global situation would appear to be a mixture of patterns which would have made Gandhi sad and happy simultaneously. On one hand, the dominant model of development; its consequences for the great mass of people as also for environment; inequality, inequity and injustice in various forms; wars; civil wars; terrorism; violence between groups; in most conflict situations casualties of human life, of property, and of truth that was so dear to him would have pained him. On the other hand, ongoing liberation struggles in various forms and their success here and there would have given him much solace. In a larger perspective, the election of an African American, Barak Obama, as the US President is also a tribute to the genius of Gandhi. I would like to sharply focus upon the issue of minority rights as a tool in liberating sections of people from injustice, and I would also like to rely on Hind Swaraj2, some of Gandhi’s other writings, and his struggle for support. Some Theoretical Issues In the current global and national context of explosion of democratic consciousness, human rights and minority rights are useful tools of furthering the liberation process. These rights are to be viewed as opportunities and resources necessary for the realisation of the fullest creative potential of individuals and groups. If the fullest creative potential of individuals and groups is not realised, the society suffers too along with such individuals and groups. Human rights for individuals and minority rights for groups are therefore morally tenable.

268 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Nevertheless, human rights have a larger acceptability than minority rights. They are even sometimes used to suggest that the very concept of minority rights is unwarranted. Not only the desirability of minority rights is contested, the definition of minority in the context of nation state and group rights is also fuzzy. As if taking a cue from the process of liberal democratic decision making in which majorities and minorities are categorised on the basis of their superior or inferior numerical strength, some define minorities in a nation state as numerically inferior groups. If the objective of the very concept of minority rights is to consider special group rights for the minorities, the above definition of a minority serves no purpose. Elites are numerically inferior but better placed than the rest of the people in a society. Jews in the United States have inferior numerical strength but do not appear to be in need of special treatment. During the apartheid regime in South Africa, the numerically inferior whites needed no special rights, just as during British colonialism in India, the British, despite being a numerical minority, were in a far more advantageous position than the Indians who had a superior numerical strength. Another set of definitions suggests minorities have identities different from the rest of the people, with ethnicity, language, culture or religion being markers of such identities. Some scholars suggest that a desire to preserve its culture and traditions is central to the concept of minority; while others argue that social deprivation and disadvantage is at the core of this concept. Yet another definition of minority is suggestive of its unfavourable power equation. It is suggested that the concept remains vague and thus has little value for academic discourse. Secondly, if the very definition of a minority remains unclear, the concept of minority rights too is of no great use. The multiplicity of definitions can be explained, to some extent, in terms of the unfolding process of development of the concept of minority rights, as it did in response to liberation struggles overtime. The Muslims in post independence India who were once mainly concerned about their demands for Urdu, Muslim Personal Law and the minority status for Aligarh Muslim University have now moved ahead to demand an appropriate share in power. At this historical juncture when a high level of democratic consciousness is being witnessed, all groups having an unfavourable power equation are keen to have a more equitable share of power. The key issue in defining majorities and minorities today is therefore their access to power. Minorities are groups having poor access to power; other issues like numerical inferiority or a desire to preserve culture and traditions are only incidental.

Rescuing Minority Rights with Gandhi’s Help 269 The Minority Rights Discourse in India Seen from this vantage point, women, Dalits, Adivasis, Muslims, Christians etc are minorities that justifiably need minority rights. However, unfortunately, the dominant discourse on minorities and minority rights in India has been mainly within the framework of religious identities. It has been further distorted by suspicion towards Muslims, which dates back to the pre-partition days and has increased over time. A host of factors, national and global, have contributed to increasing mistrust against Muslims. At the national level, communal politics of both Hindu and Muslim varieties have made their contribution to this process. Partition of the country, communal violence around and after partition, Muslim demands about Urdu, Muslim Personal Law and Aligarh Muslim University, Bangladeshis in India, the Babri Masjid-Ramjanmbhoomi controversy, acts of terrorism targeting non-combatant population, Pakistan’s perceived involvement in such acts, the Godhra carnage, and the post-Godhra pogrom in Gujarat, have all been appropriated by the actors in communal politics on both Hindu and Muslim sides to construct narratives suitable to their respective politics, and to contest meanings attributed to these events by each other. Two factors of global significance too have contributed to demonisation of Muslims worldwide, the process also having its repercussions on the minority rights discourse in India. One is Huntington’s theory of the clash of civilisations. Another one is the 9/11 terrorist attack on twin towers in New York. Such national and global factors have been used to construct and strengthen the dominant discourse in India, which sees Muslims with suspicion. Coupled with this is the relatively newfound mistrust of Christians, accused of large scale religious conversions. Misgivings about Muslims and now about Christians too have generated a mindset which is hostile to minority rights. In a framework where minorities are defined with reference to their religious identities, such suspicion leaves no scope for any positive response to the issue of special treatment to the minorities. Mainly because of misperceptions about Muslims and now about Christians too, the very concept of minority rights has been handled with contempt. ‘Appeasement of minorities’ is a handy weapon to counter any movement in the direction of minority rights. There is an urgent need to rescue the concepts of minority and minority rights from the terms set by the communal discourse in India. Invoking Gandhi to Rescue Minority Rights Guided by his strong commitment for ethics as a guide to everything in life, Gandhi categorically accorded precedence to duties over rights.

270 Swaraj and the Reluctant State He equated performance of duty and observance of morality and defined civilisation as a mode of conduct which showed man the path of duty.3 He firmly believed that real rights flowed from the performance of duties.4 But, he simultaneously questioned patterns of domination based on class, caste, gender, ethnicity, religion, language, etc. The term ‘Swaraj’ as used in Hind Swaraj and throughout his struggle became synonymous with self-determination and self-realization of all individuals and groups, more particularly of the oppressed and the disadvantaged groups.5 I call such groups minorities. As a starter, I would say that in a situation of diversity Gandhi clearly opposed the policy of segregation, as the decades of his struggle in South Africa and India indicated. Though in the English translation of Hind Swaraj he used the word ‘assimilation’6 but in its original text in Gujarati he used the word samas that can be interpreted as being closer to the process of integration than assimilation. In fact, the tone and tenor of Hind Swaraj suggests he preferred integration. He favoured indigenous languages, communal unity, gender equality, and removal of untouchability. If rights can be seen as availability of opportunities and resources that are necessary for the realisation of the fullest creative potential of individuals and groups, Gandhi appears to be in favour of rights. The only point is he rejected violence as a means for securing any rights. He suggested Satyagraha as a method of securing rights by personal sufferings. 7 His civil disobedience movements by themselves were an example of a right to protest against state. One may therefore conclude he favoured rights and favoured the right to protest for securing them. As suggested earlier, I would say he supported minority rights too. That’s why I would like to fall back on Gandhi to rescue minority rights from the current situation of indifference and even contempt in contemporary India. Complexity in the Minority Situation It needs mention that the power equation in India today is very complex with different minorities located at different points on the continuum of power relation. Some have more resources, knowledge and access or proximity to power as compared to others. Also, within each minority group there are sections which are more powerless. The issue of power has therefore to be addressed at two levels: within minorities and for minorities. Rights should be directed to address the issues at both levels. To illustrate the point, I would discuss one example. In a framework that Muslims are just one of the various Indian minorities having poor access to power, and therefore in need of minority rights, I would like to talk more about them. Sachar Committee Report on their social, economic and educational status establishes conclusively that the

Rescuing Minority Rights with Gandhi’s Help 271 existing conditions call for immediate corrections. An analysis by the Committee of issues like education, health, employment, credit, infrastructure and public programmes signifies Muslims’ development deficit. A cursory glance at the presence of Muslims in democratic institutions points to their democratic deficit too. For the sake of protecting their citizenship rights, they need special protections leading to a situation where equality of treatment also leads to equality of results. Their concerns about identity, security and equity need to be addressed properly and this makes a case for minority rights. But then Muslims also include Dalit Muslims, OBC Muslims and Muslim women, whose very existence raises the issue of minorities within minorities. Addressing the Issue of Power: Liberation Struggle Those seeking equitable share in power need to fall back on Gandhi with a greater commitment for his non-violent methods of protest. This calls for regular active interventions on the part of average Indian citizens. I am trying to argue that the liberation of the powerless groups from their state of powerlessness is interlinked. Incidents like Gujarat pogroms and to a much lesser degree the Orissa anti Christian attacks might have sent shock waves across the world, but injustice and violence against minorities, and their powerlessness can be seen as a matter of routine in state and society in India. It may take the form of police atrocities against Dalits or Muslims; it may raise its head in the purification of temples after visits by Dalits; it may be seen in the form of Dalits being asked to purify themselves by drinking cow urine and eating cow dung before being permitted to participate in a religious event; it may also be visible in physical violence against girls in a pub. Examples abound. Forms of protest against this situation are aplenty too which range from the tested and tried to innovative: they cover demonstrations, protest meetings, protest marches, dharnas and gheraos to signature campaigns to lighting candles to sending pink chaddis to the symbol of injustice. The minorities need to put their weight behind each other. I am arguing that networking of all the minority groups would make the task of addressing the issue of power much easier. NOTES 1. The Times of India, New Delhi, February 12, 2009. 2. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi’s seminal work, originally written in Gujarati between November 13 and 22, 1909, was first serialised in Indian Opinion’s two issues dated 11 and 19 of the following month. It was published as a book in 1910 in Gujarati in January and in English in March. 3. See ‘What is True Civilization?’, chapter xiii of Hind Swaraj.

272 Swaraj and the Reluctant State 4. For example, see ‘Brute Force’, chapter xvi of Hind Swaraj. 5. Manoranjan Mohanty, ‘Recasting Cultural Questions for a Harmonious World’, Social Science Probings, June 2008. 6. He says: ‘The country must have a faculty for assimilation.’ See ‘The Condition of India (cont.): The Hindus and the Mahomedans’, chapter x of Hind Swaraj. 7. See ‘Passive Resistence’, chapter xvii of Hind Swaraj.

11 Socio-Political Dilemma of the Lucknow Muslim Kim Chanwahn Introduction Muslims and Islam has been a major subject of academic studies and concern of international politics. But, most of the studies and concerns relating to Muslims and Islam in many foreign countries are about the Muslims and Islam in the Middle East and South East Asia, particularly Indonesia. There are only a few studies about India, though India has the second largest Muslim population after Indonesia in the world. It is also found that most of the academic studies on India are Hinducentric. Even the recent wonderful study of Political Process in Uttar Pradesh (UP) edited by Sudha Pai is silent on the Muslim politics and the Muslim dilemma, while the book discusses various political issues of UP where 31 million Muslims are living. The Muslims make up 18.2% of the total population of the state according to the 2001 census. Until the late 1980s, politics in UP were stable led by mainly the Congress party. However, with the decline of the moderate and centrist politics and its replacement by the politicisation of caste and religion, the governments in UP have frequently changed mainly led by the BJP, the SP and the BSP. In this political situation, being in a minority and confined to a narrow base, Muslims in UP have faced certain serious dilemmas on their socio-political front. Therefore, it is worth analysing the Muslim dilemma with special reference to Muslims in Lucknow which is one of the centres of Muslim community in India, especially in the era of the post-Congress, the post-Reform, the post-Babri Masjid and Godhra, the post 9/11, and the post-Sachar Committee Report. It is found that there is a misperception on Muslims in India. Especially after 9/11, Muslims have been suspected as ‘anti-national and terrorist elements’ in India. The Sachar report points out, ‘In general, Muslims complained that they are constantly looked upon with a great degree of suspicion not only by certain sections of society but also by

274 Swaraj and the Reluctant State public institutions and governance structures’ (Government of India 2006: 11). In this regard, I thought there ought to be a micro study at a local level to minimise misunderstanding on Indian Muslims. So, during the period of January 2008, I conducted a field survey of Muslims in Lucknow relating to their dilemmas. Lucknow was the home of the Shia Nawabs of Awadh (1722-1857). Lucknow is situated in a wide concentric circle, between the three major religious disputed sites of Ayodhya, Mathura and Varanasi. It is also the capital of UP which is the heart of Indian politics. It has been also a base of Urdu language. The survey was divided into four sections. They are the dilemmas in choosing a leader, in supporting a political party, in the use of Urdu in public places and in sharing a place for living with Hindus. The survey gathered data separately from respondents of Sunni and Shia communities in Lucknow West and from students of the Department of Urdu, Lucknow University. The questionnaires, which were written in Hindi and English, were completed by the persons being surveyed in the case of the literate and by face-to-face interviews in the case of illiterate persons. Dilemmas in Choosing a Political Party and a Political Leader Many Muslims believe that there is no secular political formation worthy of the name among the national parties in the UP on whom they rely. They have realised that the old friend, the Congress, just used them as a vote bank for a long time and did nothing for their interests. As a result, Muslims’ socio-economic and political conditions in UP have remained inchanged, and in some ways, they have become worse, especially since 1992 when the Congress government adopted the ‘soft Hindutva’ strategy allowing the Babri Masjid demolition by the Hindu fundamentalist forces led by the RSS and the BJP. Naturally, Muslims have shifted their loyalties from the Congress to dominant regional parties such as the SP and BSP. The Muslims thought that the two parties, especially the SP might protect and look after their rights and interests because the SP government in 1990 tried to protect the Masjid at Ayodhya from the Sangh Parivar. Till the late 1990s, caste and communal identities in UP drove mass politics as political parties were mobilised on the lines of social cleavages dividing the electorate. The decade of the 1990s constitutes a distinct phase in the politics of UP: it was a break from the past, characterised by the emergence of regional political parties and new forms of mobilisation based on identity. During this period regional political parties, such as the BJP, the SP, and the BSP, emerged in UP, while the Congress Party declined mainly due to the breakdown of the Nehruvian consensus on secularism and socialism.

Socio-Political Dilemma of the Lucknow Muslim 275 However, ‘Since the late 1990s, the caste and communal identities that had driven politics during the previous decade no longer occupy the central ground, and all parties are now attempting to modify their earlier positions.’ The SP is now trying to gain the support of the ‘upper’ castes such as Thakurs after realising that there is a limitation to form the government by itself in the state only with the support of Yadav, Ahir and Muslim communities. The BSP, a Dalit-oriented party which has challenged the political hegemony of the ‘upper’ castes, has now extended its support base towards the ‘upper’ castes, especially the Brahmins. As a result, the party had a majority seats and formed the government on it own after the 2007 state elections. Importantly, the large number of the ‘low’ caste Hindus in an economically difficult situation not only in the urban area but from the villages, who have migrated to a ghettoised existence in towns where Muslims are living, are now competing with Muslims for many pity jobs such as vegetable sellers and rikshawalas. The Dalits competing for jobs with Muslims, become defenders of Hinduism against the Muslims. How about the BJP? The BJP also has modified the earlier right extreme stand on Hindu nationalism while forming the governments at the centre as well as in the states to widen its social base to include the Muslims. The then prime minister, Atal Bihari Vajpayee asked Muslims to ‘make a new beginning’ with the BJP. The BJP deliberately has changed the earlier position on issues like the Muslim personal law and the special constitutional status granted to Jammu and Kashmir. In this state of confusion, one may assume that Muslims would face a dilemma in supporting a political party for their interests. However, the survey revealed that the dilemma in supporting a political party is not that serious. During the last state elections of 2007 in UP, only less than half of the Sunni and Shia respondents faced this dilemma. In case of the students of the Urdu department, only 12% respondent faced problem in selecting the political party which they wanted to support. 59% of the Sunnis, 48% of the Shia and 40% of the students perceived that the SP had protected their rights and interests best since 1990. As shown in the Table 1, the SP nominated a Muslim as their candidate for the 2007 state elections at the Lucknow West constituency. Although the BSP nominated more Muslim candidates than the SP to the UP legislative assembly in recent years, many Muslims in UP felt that the SP was the best party for them. During the period of 1989-2002 state elections, while the average Muslim nomination by the BSP was 19.87% of the total nominations, the SP nominated 14.15% Muslims of the total nominations (Ansari, 2006: 292).

276 Swaraj and the Reluctant State According to the survey, it is quite clear that the majority of Muslims understand the dominant regional parties such as the SP and the BSP are much better at defending their rights and interests than the pannational parties like the Congress and the BJP. In terms of the rate of nominations of Muslim candidates to the UP assembly, it is true that the Congress nominated Muslims only 11.26% on an average of their candidates and the BJP just appointed 0. 40% Muslims out of their total nominations during the period of 1989-2002 elections (Ansari, 2006: 292). It is very interesting to observe Rudolph and Rudolph (1987), and Ansari (2006: 290) have sopken about, the voting behaviour of Muslims in India, particularly in UP. In constituencies where Muslims are a vulnerable minority (from 10 to 20%) they tend to vote more for centrist national parties, whereas in constituencies, where they constitute a majority or near plurality (21 to 50%), they tend to vote for Muslim preferred parties and candidates. In this regard, it is understandable that the Muslims in Lucknow West preferred the regional parties rather than the national parties since the constituency has 22.54% Muslim voters out of the total voters. It is also worth noting, as the Table 2 shows, that Lucknow West has never been a winning constituency for the Muslim candidates since 1989, though it has a fair number of Muslim voters. Since the late 1980s, the BJP has always produced the winner in the constituency as a result of the Muslims being divided on the lines of castes, classes and sects which have created a dilemma for them in selecting or supporting a political party. It is also interesting to note that when a same sect Muslim candidate stands for elections from a different political party which they do not like, the Muslims confront a dilemma in voting. In this situation, 40% of the Sunnis, 48% of the Shias and 22% of the students pointed out that they faced the dilemma. Table 1: 2007 State Elections: Party-wise Break-up of Lucknow West Constituency Candidates Name Lalji Tandon Bukqal Nawab Dr Neeraj Bora Sushil Dubey Hari Om Sunil Chandra Tripathi Ehtisham Ali Y.D. Shukla

Party

Valid Votes in AC Number Percentage

Bharatiya Janata Party 43290 Samajwadi Party 29468 Bahujan Samaj Party 24438 Indian National Congress 11011 Akhil Bharat Hindu Mahasabha 572 Rashtriya Samanta Dal 502 Navbharat Nirman Party 373 Rashtriya Lok Dal 334

38.42 26.15 21.69 9.77 0.51 0.45 0.33 0.30

Socio-Political Dilemma of the Lucknow Muslim 277 Jamuna Devi Guddi Malti Devi Pandey Kamal Kishor Numan Ahmad Waseem Arunendra Mohan Shukla Anoop Kumar Shukla Anshuman Rai Sudhanshi Sharma Ramesh Chandra Shukla Rani Choudhary Mahendra Matadin Nand Kumar Prem Lata Tripathi

Rashtravadi Communist Party Independent Rashtriya Kranti Party Independent Manuvadi Party Independent Independent Independent Janata Dal (Secular) Shivsena Bharatiya Republican Paksha Rashtriya Mazdoor Ekta Party All India Minorities Front Independent Indian Justice Party

Total Valid Votes

319 294 239 232 230 230 190 172 142 113 111 108 108 104 92

0.28 0.26 0.21 0.21 0.20 0.20 0.17 0.15 0.13 0.10 0.10 0.10 0.10 0.09 0.08

112672

100.00

Lead Margin

13822

Source: http://archive.eci.gov.in/may2007/index_st.htm

Table 2: Lucknow West Assembly Constituency 1980-2002 Year Voters Voter in Turnout Candidate 1000 (% Age) Name

List of Winning Candidates Winner % Party Candidate age Name

2002 125.17 29.56 Lalji Tandon 1996 146.12 40.59 Lalji Tandon

Runner-up % Party Age

46.04 BJP Virendra Bhatia 34.43 55.21 BJP Kailash Shankar 34.65 Shukla 49.72 BJP Mahesh Nath Mahendra Pappu Bhaiya 41.38 48.48 BJP Arun Shankar 31.18

SP SP

27.33

JD

20.28

BJP

20.78

JNP (JP)

26.60

INC

1993 126.48 51.34 Ram Kumar Shukla 1991 88.12 33.34 Ram Kumar Shukla 1989 63.35 26.93 Ram Kumar 33.85 BJP Jagdeep Singh Shukla Yadav 1985 41.48 24.19 Jafar Ali Naqvi 52.25 INC Ram Kumar Aggarwal 1980 47.69 34.21 Kanhaiya Lal 37.84 INC D.P. Bora Mahendru (I) 1977 47.23 35.87 D.P. Bora 62.48 JNP Mohd. Shakeel Ahmad

SP JP

Source: http://archive.eci.gov.in/se2002/pollupd/ac/states/s24/Party comp86.htm

Due to caste and sect divisions and differences, the Muslims in Lucknow West have faced a dilemma in choosing a political leader. The survey also proved the fact that among the 22 Sunni respondents, 16 Sunnis said that they were facing a dilemma in selecting a leader. It

278 Swaraj and the Reluctant State is also found that 19 Shias out of 25 and 16 students of the Urdu department out of 22 respondents agreed with the dilemma finding. It means that more than 70% of the Muslims in Lucknow West faced a dilemma in choosing their political leaders. The field research also revealed that while they select their leaders, 72% (16) of the Sunnis, 60% (15) of the Shias and 68% (15) of the students preferred a leader from the same sect. One of the reasons behind the dilemma of Muslims in choosing a political leader and in supporting a political party is that Muslims in India are divided into different castes. The ‘upper’ caste Muslims are Syeds, Sheikhs, Malliks, Mughals, Pathans, etc. The ‘low’ castes are Momins, Halakhors, Kujras, Kabaris, etc (Husain, 2007: 103-104). Since the Muslims are divided into different castes like Hindus, they face problem during the various elections such as general and state elections. If the candidate of a party, which they are supporting, is not of the same caste as themselves, the Muslims face a serious dilemma. Of course, if the candidate of the party belongs to the same caste as themselves, then there is no problem to vote in the elections. Even in this case, if the Muslims feel that there is a great possibility that the candidate will be defeated by the candidate of the BJP or any other Hindu fundamentalist party, they tend to vote for the candidate of a secular party, even if he or she does not belong to their caste (Sulaiman, 2008). There is also another reason why Muslims face dilemmas in selecting a leader and a party during the elections. As in any other country, Indian Muslims too are divided into Sunni and Shia sects. It was observed that generally Muslims in Lucknow West do not even interact with each other in daily lives, though they live in the same colony. Both the communities are living in distinct ghettoised places near the main street of the colony. The Sunni are staying on their place of the right side of the street and the Shia are located on the left. Unfortunately, there is also a division between the Shia and Sunni communities in the Lucknow West in terms of class. Traditionally, the Shias had been the ruling elites though they were the minority in number which is now 30% of the total Muslims in the city, whereas the Sunni is the majority who had been ruled. In the broad sense, this class kind of division among the Muslims still exists in Lucknow. While most of the Sunnis are engaged in petty jobs such as Zari work, the Shias are generally in better positions doing business and working in offices. The Shias are better educated than the Sunni. Dilemma in Using Urdu and in Sharing Living Place with Hindus To the question of the dilemma in using Urdu in public places, while 40% of the Sunnis and 37% of the Shias said that they do feel the

Socio-Political Dilemma of the Lucknow Muslim 279 dilemma, only 13% of the Urdu students answered in the affirmative. It means that still the majority of the Muslims feel easy in speaking and writing in Urdu in public places in Lucknow. At the same time, however, they do feel that Urdu has lost its significance. Around 68% of Sunnis and 62% of Shias think that Urdu has been weakened. On the other hand, only 18% of the Urdu students agreed with this view. For the future of Urdu, while 40% of the Sunnis and Urdu students predict that Urdu might disappear with the new Muslim generation. In case of Shias, only 28% worry about the future of Urdu. From this answer, one may safely say that Shias are more positive than the Sunnis about the value of Urdu. While keeping in mind the Shias’ positive thinking on Urdu, it is interesting to know that the answer of the Shias on the question of which language they prefer to get a job or to improve their life standard. To this question, 80% of the Shias put English as the first, Hindi in the second and Urdu in the third places. Only 0.4% of the Shia respondents preferred Urdu. To this above question, 40.9% of the Sunnis were for English, 22.7% for Urdu, and 13.6% for Hindi. And the remaining 22% of the Sunnis had no answer. 54.5% of the Lucknow students preferred Urdu and 45.5% wanted to have English to get a job and improve their lives. In this regard, it is worth to referring to Gandhiji’s words that ‘The genius of a people and their culture flower and unfold in their mother tongue’. No one can ignore that the mother tongue is very important for all human beings to express their feelings and enhance the choice of opportunities in their lives. In this regard, it is very sad to note that ‘The students completing primary education in the Urdu medium are faced with a problem in pursuing higher education as there are only a few secondary and higher secondary schools following the Urdu medium. This means that any child who wishes to continue his/her education beyond class five has to access the Hindi/English/regional medium school (Government of India 2006: 19).’ Since Indian Muslims have great limitations in taking Urdu as the medium of an official examination for a job, it is difficult to say that Muslims enjoy equal opportunities in every field with others in India and that all fields are equally open to them. Regarding the dilemma in sharing the living place with Hindus, this study has a hypothesis that Muslims are facing a serious problem. Since the Hindu fundamentalist forces have aggressively emerged on the Indian political scene, especially in North India, some Muslims particularly in the cow belt region have gradually faced the dilemma whether they should live with Hindus or with other Muslims who are

280 Swaraj and the Reluctant State living in a ghettoised place for keeping their religious identity. This kind of phenomenon was evident in the state of Gujarat after the 2002 Hindu-Muslim riots. With this perception, the survey was conducted for the living place dilemma. It is revealed that unlike Muslims in Gujarat, only a small portion of the Muslims in Lucknow West are facing a dilemma in living with Hindus. 9% of the Sunnis, 24% of the Shias and students out of the total respondents have had problems with Hindus in living with them. However, there is a more serious dilemma within the Muslim community itself. Many Shias disclosed that they would prefer to live with Hindus rather than with Sunnis. Only 31% of the Shias want to live with Sunnis whereas just 13% of the respondents liked to live with both Sunni and Hindu communities. In case of the Urdu students, if they are Shias, 36% of the respondents prefer to live with Sunnis, whereas if they are Sunnis, 40% of them want to live with Shias. It means that the Muslims have a more serious dilemma in living with Sunnis in the case of Shias and with Shias in the case of Sunnis. Conclusion The article analyses socio-political dilemmas of Muslims at the regional level based on a field survey of Lucknow West in Uttar Pradesh, which has 22.54% of Muslim electorate, in searching for the causes of dilemmas what the major dilemmas are, and how far the dilemmas are serious. It is observed that while more than 70% of the Muslims in Lucknow West face a dilemma in choosing their political leaders, very few Muslims have any dilemma in supporting a political party. While the religious sect and the caste compulsions have forced the Muslims to select the leaders during the elections, their socio-economic and political interests have forced them to consider supporting political parties. Most of the Muslims believe that the dominant regional parties are much better at protecting their interests. As an outer dilemma, while less than half of the Muslims meet encounter problems in using Urdu in public, the majority of the Muslims face a dilemma in using and learning Urdu as a language for getting jobs and as a Muslim identity. Unlike the general perception, only 23% of the Muslims in Lucknow West confront any dilemma in sharing a place for living with Hindus, but have more serious issues in living with Sunnis in the case of Shias and with Shias in the case of Sunnis. REFERENCES Ansari, Iqbal A., 2006, Political Representation of Muslims in India 1952-2004, New Delhi: Manak.

Socio-Political Dilemma of the Lucknow Muslim 281 Ara, Arjumand. 2004. Madrasas and Making of Muslim Identity in India. Economic and Political Weekly. Vol. 39, No. 01, January 3-9. Baird, Robert D. 1999 (ed). Religion in Modern India, New Delhi: Manohar Publishers. Banerjee, Sumanta. 2004. ‘Muslim Dilemma: Convictionor Hobson’s Choice?’. Economic and Political Weekly, April 3-10. 1461-1462 Banerjee, Sumanta. 2004. Muslim Dilemma. Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 39, No. 14 and 15, April 03-16. Danish, Ishtiyaque. 2005. Muslims in India: Perceptions and Misperceptions, Delhi: Globla Media Publications. Engineer, Asghar Ali. 2004. Minorities and Elections, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 39, No. 13, March 27-April 02. Fanselow, Frank S. 1996. ‘The Disinvention of Caste among Tamil Muslims.’ in C. J. Fuller (ed). Caste Today, Delhi: Oxford University Press. Government of India, Prime Minister’s High Level Committee, 2006. Social, Economic and Educational Status of the Muslim Community of India, Reprinted by Indian Muslim Council, USA. Hasan, Mushirul. 1998. Islam, Communities and the Nation: Muslim Identities in South Asia and Beyond, Delhi: Manohar Publishers. Husain, M.G. 2007, ‘Muslim Identity: Indian Perspective’, M.G. Husain (ed). Muslim Identity and Islam: Misinterpreted in the Contemporary World, New Delhi: Manak. Robinson, Rowena. 2007. Indian Muslims. Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 42, No. 10, March 10-16. Rudolph, Lloyd and Susanne Rudolph. 1987. In Pursuit of Lakshmi: The Political Economy of the Indian State, New Delhi: Oriented Longman. Shah, Ghanshyam. 2007. The Condition of Muslims. Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 42, No. 10, March 10-16. Vatuk, Sylvia. 1991. ‘Identity and Difference or Equality and Inequality in South Asian Muslim Society’ in C.J. Fuller (ed). CasteToday. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Verma, A.K. 2006. Uttar Pradesh: Formation of Muslim Political Fronts, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 41, No. 40, October 07-13. Field Surveys Lucknow West: Sunni and Shia. Lucknow University: Urdu Department. Interviews Sulaiman, Mohammed. 2008. President of Indian National League. Lucknow West, India, January 24. Srivastava., A.K. 2008. Professor of Sociology, Lucknow University, Lucknow, India, January 24. Verma, Roop Rekha. 2008. President of Saajhi Duniya, Lucknow West, India, January 24. Dixit, Ramesh. 2008. Professor of Political Science and President of Nationalist Congress Party, U.P., Lucknow University, Lucknow, January 21-25.

12 The Women’s Movement in India: A Hundred Year History* Maithreyi Krishnaraj The women’s movement in India has a chequered history of over a hundred years. It went through many phases, from a united front to fragmentation, dispersal and now perhaps, a new hope of consolidation is in the offing. I also draw from my own experience of the movement in the late twentieth century. There are many books in English and in regional languages, documenting the movement through scholarly analyses and first-hand narratives of the participants. I have selected a few of those accounts which have appeared as illustrative of its nonlinear history. Critical evaluation from our present context records the diversity and complexity of how the women’s question was raised at different phases, in different regions, in the nineteenth century, and often harbouring contested relations with the left and other progressive movements. ‘Perhaps less well known to western scholars is how deeply rooted this movement was on both colonial reform and the nationalist struggles of the nineteenth century’ (Kalpagam, 2000). Preceding the national independence from colonial rule was the ‘social reform movement’ which made attempts to reform the conditions under which Hindu women lived. Child marriage, early widowhood and Sati (the burning of a widow on the funeral pyre of the husband) were some of the oppressive conditions that high-caste Hindu women suffered from. The young widows were often children and were forced to live a life of privation. They had to tonsure their heads, wear only white, could not adorn themselves with ornaments and had to eat meagre food. They were seen as bad omen and could not take part in any festivities. Some literate women have left us records of what they went through. The reform movement was spearheaded by men who, exposed to liberal ideas, considered these conditions as an indictment * Earlier published in Social Change, Vol. 42, No. 3, September 2012.

The Women’s Movement in India: A Hundred Year History 283 of their society by colonial rulers and supported passing legislation raising the age of consent for marriage, abolition of Sati practice and campaigning for widow remarriage, especially if the women had had no children. They also pushed for women’s education in a big way. It is generally assumed that men were the architects of these drives towards emancipation of women, but recent research shows how the wives, daughters, sisters and followers of male leaders were equally in the forefront of the movement (Kumar, 1997). Likewise, it is generally presumed that this awakening was mainly due to colonial encounter of India under British rule with the English language which Lord Macaulay ushered into the Indian education system. His aim was to create a cadre of Indian administrators capable of replacing the British nationals in India. Ironically, these events also gave Indian leaders exposure to new ideas. The criticism of Indian cultural practices touched a raw nerve among patriotic Indians who wished to reform the system. New research has unearthed many indigenous movements much before the colonial encounter which sought to move society towards modernity. During the seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries, there were parts of India ruled by native states which were outside the British Empire, where such progressive enactments were made. Three such examples are the state of Travancore–Cochin in south-west India, the state of Mysore and the state of Baroda, where women were highly educated and were employed in many professions. There was an organisation called the Brahmo Samaj in Bengal and one in north India called the Arya Samaj. They not only promoted education and autonomy for women but introduced free-choice marriages among young couples. Even martial arts were taught to women in Arya Samaj. While the social reformers’ zeal to improve the condition of highcaste women was indeed noteworthy, it was, in many ways, a limited reform insofar as women were still confined to their traditional roles as wives and mothers, and education was aimed to make them better wives and mothers, capable of being enlightened partners to their husbands. They did not envisage any public role for women. Mahatma Gandhi drew them into the national movement and legitimised their public role, but this too was mooted insofar as he extolled the essential nature of women as self-sacrificing mothers qualifying them for participation in the national movement. As Sangari and Vaid contend, ‘Both tradition and modernity have been in India carriers of patriarchal ideologies. As such neither is available to us in a value free and unproblematic sense, nor is either as they are conceptualised’ (Sangari and Vaid, 1989: 17). The social reformers’ agenda did not include freedom for women outside the patriarchal baggage. Nonetheless, this limited reform paved the way for a future where women could find their own space. One cannot

284 Swaraj and the Reluctant State educate women without it leading to critical inquiry about their own lives. By 1860, many women went into professions like teaching and nursing. They became aware of themselves and their predicament. This was the period when more than a hundred autobiographies were written by women, expressing their dissatisfaction on their lack of autonomy. Some wrote of a utopia, imagining a time when women would be in charge, like the book Sultana’s Dream (Sakhawat, 1905). Some wrote a comparison of men’s lives and women’s lives to demonstrate how women were denied opportunities for self-fulfilment (for example, Ramabai, 1981; Shinde, 1975). In north India, the Indo-Gangetic plains have earned the pejorative sobriquet the ‘cow belt’ to denote the ultra conservatism of the people there. Yet, in the late nineteeth century, there were many women who wrote in Hindi. Even though their writings, in the form of short stories and essays, evoked the image of Hindu goddesses as icons of female power, there was evident an undercurrent of desire for female autonomy and a burgeoning feminist consciousness. Thus, despite many contradictions, the reform movement was a precursor to an emerging feminist movement. Around this time, radical voices also emerged advocating education for lower castes, and Savitribai Phule was a forerunner in opening schools for educating lower-caste women. The women’s studies centre in Pune is named after her. In 1906, a social reformer Dond Keshav Karve, after visiting Japan which had a women’s university, was inspired to open a similar university in India. The history of this university is itself a history of the women’s movement. Karve had earlier begun a small institution to educate widows in Pune. After his visit to Japan, he converted it to a women’s University offering courses in education, nursing, regional languages, Sanskrit, arts and humanities. In 1916, a mill magnate, Sir Vithaldas Thackersey, offered a handsome donation which enabled the university to expand. The women’s University, which was the only one in India at that time, was named after his mother and continues to have the same name (Shreemati Damodar Nathibai Thackersey Women’s University; in short, SNDT Women’s University). By 1952, it became part of the Maharashtra state university system and shifted to Bombay while retaining a wing in Pune. As a full-fledged university, it offered professional degree courses at bachelor and master’s level as well as doctorate level in: law, commerce, information technology, pharmacy, business management, in addition to home science and nursing, arts, commerce, humanities as before. It also acquired a new campus in Juhu. In the early 1970s, there was a symposium to decide on what the university should do for women, and thus was established the first Centre for Women’s Studies at SNDT Women’s University. Two more women’s universities came into

The Women’s Movement in India: A Hundred Year History 285 existence later in south India. SNDT Women’s University kept in touch with the women’s movement; it hosted many conferences and participated in many international conferences. It truly regarded itself as the academic arm of the women’s movement. However, once women’s studies became established, in many universities women’s studies had a more diverse history and, in some cases, became purely academic institutions. Let me go back to the women’s movement. During the national movement—encompassing the non-cooperation (1920-21), civil disobedience (1930–31) and Quit India (1942) movements—many women participated, but they were the wives, sisters or followers of male leaders. Rural women participated only during the protest against the salt tax. The movement was predominantly of the middle class. Two contradictory rationales were simultaneously espoused, namely, women’s public appearance was justified as they were mothers fighting for ‘mother country’ and women had equal rights as men. These two contradictions were not resolved. Even today, the right-wing party uses the same rationale, while the mainstream centre party ostensibly treats women as equal to men. I guardedly say ‘ostensibly’ as later events will show the persistence of patriarchal resistance to women’s public role. In a curious way, the national movement got entangled with the women’s question (Desai, 2006). In none of the other countries shaking off colonial bondage was there such an entwinement (Thorner and Krishnaraj, 2000). Between 1917–27, three major women’s organisations got established: Women’s India Association (WIA), All India Women’s Conference (AIWC), and National Council of Women in India (NCWI). At the first AIWC meeting, 7,000 women attended. The AIWC prepared a memorandum seeking the right to vote for women from the British government. The AIWC was also in the forefront for reforms in marriage and property laws concerning women. All said and done, on the eve of India’s independence, women were struggling to establish liberal principles with equality as the guiding principle. Unfortunately, the national movement for independence shelved the gender question to be taken up later, just as it did for incorporating affirmative action for previously marginalised communities to be addressed after independence in framing a constitution. The national movement was not as homogenous as generally believed. There were many political strands. There were subaltern groups who spoke of their oppression but they did not recognise the different levels of oppression within them. In 1958, Tara Ali Baig wrote a book on the activities of women who inherited the political mantle from men in their families. All the women’s organisations and women

286 Swaraj and the Reluctant State leaders were careful to emphasise that they were not ‘anti-men’. The argument of the desirability of extended space for women was assisted by women leaders’ connection to male leaders and legitimised women’s entry into public space, and as this was not available to all women, their participation was thus limited. What facilitated the politicisation of the domestic sphere and the domestication of the public sphere was the duty of women as ‘mothers’ to defend ‘mother country’ from enslavement. The public space was seen not as flouting customary definition of women’s role but a space for renegotiating the rigid rules governing women (Thapar–Björkert, 2006). There was an effort to negotiate the boundaries of identity and domesticity, but the ambiguity in this new identity created paradoxes about gender equality. Despite varied motivations, women’s public participation did create a precedent for future generations (Krishnaraj, 1995). A new generation of women was raised, more articulate, more politically aware and more conscious of rights. The 1970s focus was on achieving some socio-political reforms which in no way challenged the basic gender discrimination in society. The directive principles of the national Constitution had ‘no discrimination on the basis of sex’ as one of the clauses. This promise had created a sense of complacency that women’s issues would be addressed. The publication of the report of the Committee on the Status on Women, Towards Equality, took the lid off this complacency. It exposed the enormous discrimination that prevailed on the basis of gender in employment, education and health, and in participation in public bodies. Even though the number of political organisations in 1970s was more numerous than before in the women’s movement, they became dormant around this time. A flexible group called the Six Sisters2 was instrumental in the Government of India ratifying the Convention Against All Sorts of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) passed by the United Nations. It also oversaw the setting up of a representative National Women’s Commission and state-level (that is provincial) women’s commissions. The plea by the women’s organisations to give statutory authority to these commissions to prosecute and not just register complaints was not acceded to by the government. During 1975–85, progressive women’s organisations began, for the first time, to identify patriarchal social structure as the cause of women’s oppression. At the same time, many lower-caste and Tribal women also began to organise themselves both against upper castes and against male dominance in their own communities (Rajawat, 2005; Sharma and Sharma, 2006). A kind of loose federation evolved to fight on a common front. Central to the women’s engagement with politics was the

The Women’s Movement in India: A Hundred Year History 287 realisation that the left parties did not link patriarchy and class exploitation. Two studies, A Decade of the Women’s Movement in India (Desai, 1988, see also Desai and Patel, 1985) and A Space within the Struggle (Sen, 1990), give us a glimpse of the varied mass movements in which women were involved. There were student protests, textile workers strike, railway workers strike, and fisherwomen’s protest against foreign trawlers which came into our coasts to catch fish because they threatened the livelihood of traditional fishing communities, and protest against the missile testing range in Odisha.3 Throughout, in many such movements, the women’s organisations appealed to the state for redress. In 1979, some incidents of custodial rape of young women by the police triggered the emergence of groups that were not affiliated to any political party. These were called autonomous organisations. A forum against rape was organised which later converted itself to Forum against Oppression. In 1980, a new law was passed against rape and amended in 1983, but without many recommendations of women’s groups being incorporated. The basic strategy was to take recourse to law but given the strength of patriarchy, not only among the security forces but also within sections of the judiciary, and in broader society, law did not deter offences against women. Many young women, soon after marriage, were tortured or even killed or driven to suicide for non-fulfilment of dowry demands. An anti-dowry law was passed with many organisations rallying against dowry harassment by a bride’s inlaws and husband. Later, when modern technology like amniocentesis was used to detect sex of the foetus and a female foetus was aborted, a central law was passed in 1990 to deter this, and medical units allowing this test were penalised. In all these events, there was a united front of women’s groups. During 1975–85, forms and styles of action became diversified to create public awareness, to raise consciousness, to lobby, and to mobilise a cross-section of society. Demonstrations, street plays, seminars, symposia, group meetings, and mass parades were resorted to. Postcards, letters, telegrams, etc., were sent to the judiciary and the government. For the first time, a feminist agenda was articulated to highlight the sexual exploitation of women in conjugal relations, in intercaste rivalries and by the police and the army in some regions. The autonomous women’s groups recognised that the subsuming of gender under class by the left gave women no room to fight for their own needs. The All India Democratic Women’s Association (AIDWA) spoke of triple oppression—class, political and gender—and many organisations like the Progressive Organisation for Women (POW) raised their voices against gender discrimination within the left. The autonomous groups were small in number, non-hierarchical, with different organisational

288 Swaraj and the Reluctant State and leadership styles, resources and different strategies of participation and intervention. They mainly worked on single issues and hence, could not address the deep-rooted gender inequality in society. Further, a divide between activists and academics fragmented the movement. Difficulties of overcoming barriers of caste and class were hurdles and the attempt to promulgate a common civil code could not succeed. This became apparent in the famous case of a Muslim woman, Shah Bano, who sought maintenance from her divorced husband under the provisions of the Indian Criminal Procedure Code which permits a woman to receive maintenance under the clause ‘prevention of destitution’. The Muslim clerics were up in arms declaring that the provisions of the Muslim law, or sharia, are enough and the appeal under the IPCPC was unnecessary and an interference with Muslim religious law. The then Prime Minister promptly enacted a law upholding the Muslim clerics’ view. This was a major setback for the women’s movement. By the 1990s, the women’s movement became fractured. Many organisations became service providers and this phase is known as the non-governmental organisation or NGO-isation. The women’s movement prepared an alternative document for the Beijing conference in 1995 to counter the government’s version. By the 1990s, increasingly, women participated in programmes of ‘gender and development’ and made policy interventions. Some saw this as cooptation by the government. Perhaps it was, but it did bring in women’s issues into the policy-making bodies. Though I called it fragmentation, it was more diversification, with women’s groups fighting on many fronts—environment, forest-dwellers’ rights, against displacement of people and loss of their lands in construction of big dams and loss of agricultural land by the setting up of special economic zones (SEZs) to promote export industries. These oppositions arose with the advent of so-called liberalisation which threw open the economy to both market forces and foreign trade. For the first time, sexual minorities also organised themselves. There were sex workers’ organisations fighting for respect and against police and pimps’ harassment; and by transgender people for recognition of sexual minorities. The floodgates were open for a million mutinies. The Delhi High Court has upheld the rights of sexual minorities thereby decriminalising them, but the case has been referred to the Supreme Court. Today, there are open lesbian organisations. In a recent case of a Tribal school teacher in central India, accused of being part of the revolutionary militant outfit called the Maoists, who was sexually abused by the police, women activists, academics and civil rights groups rallied to make a strong protest through the internet and appealed to the Supreme Court to ensure justice to the poor woman.

The Women’s Movement in India: A Hundred Year History 289 The wheel is coming full circle. The state is no longer the protector, but conniving with the security forces under the plea of restoring ‘law and order’. Corporate entities, under so-called liberalisation, are flouting long fought for labour laws and women workers are losing their rights. The National Commission for Women and the state commissions for women have not been very effective in prosecution of culprits. The Women’s Reservation Bill which seeks reservation for women in legislative bodies up to 33 per cent is still pending (Akhila, Anamika & Pani 2012). Political parties also do not put up enough women candidates. The AIDWA is among the more visible parties today and some others seem to have folded up. There are still smaller organisations against ‘communalism’.4 AIDWA keeps organising women against price raise and against violence against women. Earlier in the 1980s, many parties had come together, called the ‘rolling pin’ demonstration (socalled because they used rolling pins struck against brass dishes, as symbolic of the kitchen), against price rises which affected the poor most. Recently, in a legislative assembly, while the session was in progress, three ministers were caught watching pornographic videos on their mobile phones. While much media outrage was voiced about the unseemly behaviour of the ministers during the sessions, AIDWA asked, whether it is ok if they watch it at home? Pornography objectivises women as sex objects. The three offenders have been suspended. Earlier the Left parties subsumed caste as part of class; though the two overlap they are not part of class. Similarly earlier the left movement subsumed gender under class and caste but now recognises that gender is a distinct category. There are other disquieting factors. The NGOs, which are non-party groups, have created protected niches for themselves to carry out ‘women’s empowerment’. Many do receive foreign grants. There are microfinance institutions sprouting all over, to lend funds to women worker groups called Self Help Groups. Much recent research is critical of this initiative as it does not promote women’s autonomy. Over the years, women’s newsletters, journals, women’s archives and supplements in mainstream newspapers highlighting women’s issues have increased tremendously. We have a million mutinies. One way to look at it is fragmentation, but another way of seeing it is as a river that has diversified into many tributaries. This is our strength. NOTES 1. Maharashtra is one of the provinces in western India. Provinces are now called ‘states’, while the central government is called union government. We have a federal system. 2. The Six Sisters consisted of: All India Democratic Women’s Association (AIDWA); All India Women’s Conference (AIWC); Joint Women’s

290 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Programme, (JWP); National Federation of Indian Women (NFIW); Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA); and the Centre for Women’s Development Studies (CWDS). 3. A province in eastern India. 4. Communlism is a term used in India to denote partisan politics usually aimed against minorities like the Muslims.

REFERENCES Akhila, R.S., Anamika, Ajay, & Pani, Narendra (2012). Can dual member constituencies be the way forward for women’s reservation? Bangalore: National Institute of Advanced Studies. Baig, Tara Ali (1958). Women of India. New Delhi: Union Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India. Datta, Kusum (2007). Women’s studies and the women’s movement in India. Kolkata: Asiatic Society. Desai, Neera (1988). A decade of the women’s movement. Bombay: Himalaya Publishing House. ——— (2006). Feminism is experienced: Thoughts and narratives. Mumbai: Sparrow. Desai, Neera and Patel, Vibhuti (1985). Indian women: Change and challenge in the International Women’s Decade (1975–85). Bombay: Popular Prakashan. Kalpagam, U. (2000). ‘Life experiences, resistances, feminist consciousness’, Indian Journal of Gender Studies 7:2, 167-184. Krishnaraj, Maithreyi (1995). ‘Feminist economics, going beyong critique’. Theme paper in the workshop titled ‘Feminist Approaches to Economic Theory’ at Bangalore organised by Devaki Jain at Singamma Srinivasan Foundation and published by the Indian Association of Women’s Studies, New Delhi. ——— (2000). Remaking society for women: Visions past and present. Background Volume for the 7th National Conference of the Indian Association of Women’s Studies, Hyderabad. Kumar, Radha (1997). History of doing. An illustrated account of the women’s movement for women’s rights and feminism. New Delhi: Kali for Women. Rajawat, Mamta (2005). Dalit women’s issues and perspectives. New Delhi: Anmol. Ramabai, Pandita (1981). High-caste Hindu women. Translated by Rosalind O’ Hanlon (1994). Oxford University Press. Sakhawat, Rokeya (1905). Sultana’s dream (A Feminist Press Sourcebook). New Delhi: Dev Publishers & Distributors. Sangari, Kumkum and Vaid, Sudesh (1989). Recasting Women: Essays in Colonial History, New Delhi, Kali for Women. Sen, Ilina (Ed.) (1990). A space within the struggle. New Delhi: Kali for Women. Sharma, Seema, and Sharma, Kanta (2006). The backwards in Dalit and backward class women. New Delhi: Anmol. Shinde, Tarabai (1975). Stree purosh tulna (Marathi). Bombay: Grantha Sangrahalaya. Thapar–Björkert, S. (2006). Women in the national movement (1930–42). New Delhi: SAGE. Thorner, Alice and Krishnaraj, Maithreyi (eds) (2000). Ideals, images and real lifes: Women in literature and history. Mumbai: Orient Longman.

13 Women Leaders in Panchayats are No Longer Afraid of Gram Sabha Bidyut Mohanty Status of Women in India Even after two decades of economic reforms and high growth rates, Indian women lag behind their neighbouring sisters in terms of access to health and education. The infant mortality rate in India far exceeds that of Bangladesh though in terms of per capita income India fares much better. Similarly, life expectancy is better in the latter country compared to the Indian situation. In terms of education also female literacy rate is much higher in the Muslim dominated country compared to the Indian state. (Sen, 2011). Further the extent of female deficit is much higher in India compared to her neighboring country. (Klasen and Wink, 2006). Even the recent census data on sex ratios (females per hundred males) shows that the areas which had favouable sex ratios earlier have now entered the female deficit areas particularly in the age group of 0-6. (Census of India, 2011)1. The child sex ratio has shown a declining trend since it dropped from 927 to 914 between 2001 and 2011. Besides, the incidences of dowry related deaths, and domestic violence have not decreased. In other words, women are still treated as second class citizens even after sixty years of freedom. Reasons of female deficit are not difficult to trace. First of all, it is to be noted that total fertility rate has declined all-over India2, and women are opting for fewer children. Coupled with that, the idea of ‘son preference’ in a patriarchal societal structure is still very strong among the rural people due to the lack of old age security except in the form of sibling support. Secondly, as per the customs of the Indian society, daughters are meant for marriage and are bound to go to their husbands’ houses and sons stay at home and inherit the parental property. As a result women having sons get more attention in the family compared to the mother having only daughters. Thus women try to have only sons and may not opt for the second child if their wish is fulfilled in having a son in the first birth. Secondly, with the availability of cheap

292 Swaraj and the Reluctant State technology, women are able to plan better and opt for a male baby rather than female baby. Unfortunately because of globalisation more and more ‘low caste’ people are entering the category of ‘above poverty line’ groups and those communities which previously did not resort to neglecting their daughters have started emulating the values of ‘high’ caste people. Thus nowadays, ‘low caste’ communities don’t allow their women to work in public nor do they give bride price3 which practice was prevalent among them. On the other hand, ‘low caste’ communities are adopting the practice of dowry. Along with that they are also practising sex selective abortions. As result, women in general and girl children in particular are devalued. In order to rectify those structural factors, two gender friendly measures have been taken up. Next we turn to those. Engendering Government’s Policies In recent decades, two major developments at the policy level have taken place in India to redress women’s concerns by engendering political and economic institutions. In the political field, women used to be very poorly represented before the introduction of the ‘quota’ in local government system. That lacuna has been removed by giving a certain critical percentage of seats to women in those institutions. This is characterised as the ‘jump-start’ which would enable women to proceed on the path of women’s empowerment (Dahlerup, 2006). The second one is engendering the money market to deliver small loans to poor women to make additional income by utilising their hidden entrepreneurial skill potential. This is modelled on the microcredit programme of Grameen bank, Bangladesh. While the first initiative attempts to remove the political vacuum in terms of representation, the second one is aimed at augmenting the income in the hands of cash strapped women particularly the rural women belonging to SC and ST communities. In terms of numerical values, the first development has brought out more than a million elected women leaders per their term at the grassroots level having different types of socio and economic backgrounds. The second measure has brought in about twenty million women to Self Help Groups (SHGs) (Srinivasan, 2009). Before proceeding further, the institutional set-up of the local government institutions will be taken up to depict the real situation insofar as the structure is concerned. After that we will focus on the actors particularly women since unlike the slow track methods,4 the women get elected with the help of their male family members. As a result, women’s own choice of standing in the election may or may not get reflected. Thus the results are likely to be dummy women chiefs in the local government institutions.

Women Leaders in Panchayats are No Longer Afraid of Gram Sabha 293 Local Government Institutions and Women’s Representation Till 1993, the policies were formulated in the Planning Commission, and were implemented in villages by district and block level administrators. Policies did not reflect the ground reality of local areas that present diverse situations. So there was a dire need of having smaller political units not only to visualise but also to implement relevant policies which would affect the lives of millions of people living in rural areas. So in 1993 it was decided at the policy level to give more power to the local government units so that an era of decentralised governance would be ushered in the rural areas. There are about 0.25 million village Panchayats (village political units), 6303 block-level Panchayats and 586 Districts Panchayats as per Government of India sources. (Government of India, 2011). The Panchayats are supposed to plan, implement and monitor almost all the developmental works which are much broader than the goals set by the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) ranging from livelihood issues to food security and other aspects of poverty alleviation. Even though these institutions are given important responsibilities, they are not equipped with untied funding, nor do they have functionaries or autonomous power to plan and execute. As a result those Panchayats are reduced to mere implementing agencies. They get most of their funding from the Central/state governments which are allocated programme wise. These institutions are also riddled with problems superimposed on already stratified social structures in terms of power relations though in certain parts of rural India, the structure is showing some weakening signs (Lindberg, 2011). Nonetheless, though these institutions have not met the goal of Gandhi’s Swaraj—the Little Republic5 completely, though a large number of people do get involved in deciding how to implement the welfare schemes in a more targeted way. In other words, the local government institutions did open up the potential for villagers taking part in local administration even though it is somewhat limited. The opportunities for villagers in general and women in particular have increased considerably particularly after the introduction of the rights based livelihood act called Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act in 2005 (Dreze, 2005). The scheme is called MGNREGS in short. This scheme has many unusual features such as transparency, accountability, and is nearly leakage proof, etc. It is mostly meant for SC and ST population as well as other marginalised sections of the people. The objective of this scheme is to provide able-bodied labourers with physical work particularly in agriculturally slack seasons for hundred days by paying them the prevailing minimum wage. This scheme is routed through the Panchayats. About 0.1 million worth of rupees (Rupees 44 = $ 1) come

294 Swaraj and the Reluctant State to Panchayats every year to be spent by the elected representatives. Because of this scheme villagers have shown a lot of interest in attending Gram Sabhas (village assemblies) which used to be non-functional.6 The Uniqueness of the New Set-up These institutions have enabled our rural people to get a large number of persons elected for every term of five years and in the process facilitate the building up of human capital as will be observed shortly. For example, in each term of five years there are about three million elected representatives at the all India level out of which 75,000 are women. The presence of such a large number of women has been made possible because of seat reservation in the local government units of not less than one-third of the total seats in each tier of Panchayats both at the ward and headship level. Recently the percentage has been increased to fifty per cent. Thus the number of women representatives would increase more than the previous level. The quota has been extended to all sections of women ranging from SC, ST to general castes. Many microstudies have been conducted in different parts of India to show the impact of such a large number of women in the public place. Some of the studies have qualified the quota system saying that women don’t contest elections on their own and they are prompted by male family members and village elders (Bardhan et al 2010). Others like Chattopadhyay and Duflo (2004), Jaffri and Singh (2006) have noticed that the quota has helped women’s visibility in the Panchayats. Next, we discuss these studies to find out as to what kind of push the quota has imparted to women’s status in the society. Bardhan and others (2010) have taken all the districts of West Bengal for the period of 1998 to 2004 and have examined the targeting of welfare schemes meant for SC and ST as well as that of the female headed households by the SC women chiefs. The authors noticed that the targeting of welfare schemes in terms of accessing the benefits worsened among female headed households in those Panchayats where women are heads of the Panchayats. This phenomenon has been explained by the authors as the relative ignorance of existing benefits by elected women representatives and that situation is exploited by the elite class to appropriate benefits for themselves such as agricultural mini-kits and irrigation facilities etc, by not sharing the information on the existence of the types of benefits available through Panchayats for SC population. They also pointed out that the SC villages gained a lot in terms of accessing benefits whenever, SC male chiefs were present. The study however, does not take into account the impact of caste and family patriarchies which are very much prevalent among the Dalit (SC)

Women Leaders in Panchayats are No Longer Afraid of Gram Sabha 295 women. It is a well known fact that SC men and women work together in public places and if an SC male is literate, his knowledge of functioning in the Panchayats becomes evident through elected women. In other words, SC literate men who would like to improve the situation of their co-villagers would like to work through their women making them visible in the process. It is equally important to point out that women don’t form a homogeneous group. For instance, some of them may not have the aptitude to come to politics or are not interested in pursuing it. In others, male family members might have wanted to use women to further their political ambitions. But some women must have got opportunities to express their leadership ability after being given a chance. On the other hand, Chattopadhyay and Duflo (2004) have studied the impact of reservation in Panchayati Raj on women on a national basis and noticed the positive impact of quota on women’s empowerment. Both these authors have taken two states into consideration and have come to conclusion that in West Bengal, the SC elected women have invested more on roads and drinking water which are very important for women in their own residential areas. In Rajasthan on the other hand they invested more on water because it is a desert state. The authors are also of the opinion that because of reservation, the SC community has got enough representation. Similarly Beaman, Duflo, Pande and Topalova (2007) have taken up 24 states and noticed that elected women representatives are targeting welfare schemes quite pointedly and there are less number of bribing cases, but still the general impression of villagers is that women leaders are not capable of performing well. This, the authors have attributed to the gender bias against women leaders. Jaffri and Singh (2006) who have been working in a Tribal dominated district of Madhya Pradesh, observe that it is not unusual to find ‘natural community leadership’ among the SC and ST people. Some others may require exposure to the political environment to grow as political leaders and the quota gives them an opportunity to grow. Thus to dismiss all elected women representatives as rubber stamps or doormats will be far from the truth. Finally, even if women don’t show leadership qualities at the initial stage, their sheer presence in political institutions has an empowering impact on them. Thus it is noticed that women’s presence in political institutions has shown mixed results. In the next section, the impact of microcredit loans to women in strengthening their economic power will be taken up.

296 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Microcredit Groups As noted earlier, women were not only devoid of political power but also economic power. Thus policy instruments on both the fronts were initiated by the governments as well as civil society members and other donor agencies to overcome these barriers. As a result, along with political representation, women of India also had an opening in the economic sector. Fortunately, the period from the nineties onwards, saw a policy shift in developmental paradigm. So far, developmental policies were targeting only male family members ignoring women’s needs and their integral role of household management. From that decade onwards, the women’s need was given relatively more importance. Since women are resource strapped, and no commercial bank would give them loan without any collateral, government decided to start the microloan programme though the Department of Women and Child Development for women which got reinvented in the eighties as the microcredit programme modelled after Grameen Bank in Bangladesh.7 According to an estimate of National Bank for Agriculture and Rural Development (NABARD), the nodal agency to support the microcredit groups along with other kinds of loans, the programme has a coverage of 86 million poor households and the Self Help Groups (SHGs) had bank accounts with outstanding savings of $1.23 billion in the year 2009. Further the report also showed that about 4.2 million SHGs are linked to bank loans.8 As per the Economic Survey, 2011-12 the SHGs model has been designed in such a way that it encourages the women to be linked with the bank both as a means of saving and as providers of loan services. The report also points out that out of the total SHGs, women constitute at least 76 per cent. These women contribute 72 per cent of savings and account for 82 per cent of the outstanding loans in this sector. Before microcredit groups are formed, animators travel from village to village and tell people about the benefits of microcredit and women are encouraged to save out of their meagre earnings. Members of the group are usually chosen from women of similar socio-economic backgrounds. Sometimes, women belong to the same caste or community and are related to each other. In fact, civil society members try to form groups of women from one ward so that some kind of homogeneity either in terms of belonging to one group of Kith and Kin or in facing similar socio-economic hurdles is maintained. It is also important to note that members of microcredit groups are generally recruited from marginalised sections of the society such as the SC and ST communities.

Women Leaders in Panchayats are No Longer Afraid of Gram Sabha 297 Impact of Microcredit on Status of Women Many micro and macro studies have been conducted to gauge the impact of microcredit on financial, social and political status of women. These studies don’t provide any clear-cut picture regarding the improvement of their economic status after they join SHGs. But the majority of the studies show that access to microcredit reduces the ‘vulnerability’ to disaster at family level (Kabeer 2006). Kabeer for instance has studied several micro credit groups comprising ST and SC and OBC communities located in remote areas in India and come to the above conclusions. She has also pointed out that microcredit has made a very perceptible impact on social status of women who are slightly above poverty line. She has studied many non-governmental organisations (NGOs) situated in Tribal areas of India and Bangladesh and has come to the conclusion that women participating in the microcredit groups supported by these NGOs are able to fulfil the practical needs such as access to healthcare services and children’s education though not the strategic needs. This entails challenging the power structure embedded in the family, though both types of needs are overlapping. These groups are mostly engaged in cattle/poultry rearing, paddy husking, processing of minor forest produce and selling it in the nearby markets. These types of economic activities require very little capital and the gestation period is short, particularly in India. Similarly, Devika (2007) points out that the Kudumbashree programme9 which is also a microcredit programme has enabled women to become the agents of change but has not gone beyond a point. The author was analysing the most important government programme on microcredit in Kerala. She observes that women have become successful social audit persons who carry out their responsibilities efficiently, but they still fail to challenge the oppressive power structure in the family. Both Karim (2012) and Fernando (2006) on the other hand, argue that microcredit instead of helping women to get empowered leads to indebtedness and shaming themselves in not keeping up the family honour in case they fail to repay loans on time. Karim for example points out that the logic of microcredit works under the presumption that women are autonomous actors but rural women of Bangladesh like in any feudal society are bounded by several kith and kin relationships like their husbands and in-laws etc. In many instances, family members compel women to borrow from many institutions but sometimes are unable to repay because of unforeseen reasons for which they become the victims of humiliation since they are the prime borrowers. In the same vein, Fernando (2006) while discussing various articles in his edited volume points out that the empowerment of women via microcredit

298 Swaraj and the Reluctant State introduced a new orthodoxy in the nineties. However, in this case women’s interests were subordinated to the priorities of the mainstream development in such a way that it was detrimental to the NGO led empowerment model. Sharma (2012) however, suggests that inadequate attention has been paid to assess the gender impact of microcredit which depended on various factors though she is of the opinion that it does have the potential for microenterprise development and strengthening women’s capacity provided the strategies shift from the narrow vision of these programmes and the yardstick of performance. She also points out that there is enough evidence to support the notion of ‘dynamics of collective responsibility’ through which women have come out of the poverty trap and she has projected the names of a couple or India based organisations including Self Employed Women’s Organisation (SEWA) to support her argument, though she feels that not much research has been done to find out the chain of causalities. In the next section we will take up yet another dimension in which members of microcredit groups along with women Panchayat members are making a difference in the public arena. Synergy Between Women in Microcredit and in Panchayats and Impact of Community Governance on Gram Sabhas In the above sections it was noticed that neither political representation nor microcredit measures have led to unbiased empowerment of women. In many instances the institutional constraints have become obstacles. But fortunately these barriers have partially been overcome by women by combining both the measures effectively. In those instances women are emerging as successful leaders. In order to show that they use both the secondary and primary source materials, Pant (2007) for example, has taken up a study of three states and four organisations which have facilitated 60 self help groups and their involvement in 26 panchyats. She observes that the members of self help groups on being facilitated by the NGOs became interested in taking up issues of public concern. Women for instance started disseminating information in the community about the issues such as deliberations in public forums and Gram Sabhas where basic issues like shelters, pension and drinking water are discussed, acting as pressure groups to leverage access to resources, agenda setting and altering rules and norms which would engender policies. Some of them got elected to Panchayati Raj institutions to make a greater impact and proved to be more effective than others. By taking part in different forums, their self-confidence increased as well as their group solidarity. But for all these, they needed the help of the NGO members through the entire process. Both Lindberg (2011) and Jeyaraman (2011) who have

Women Leaders in Panchayats are No Longer Afraid of Gram Sabha 299 focused on the synergy between the self help groups in Tamil Nadu have come to the same conclusions. Lindberg for instance points out that a ‘silent revolution’ in the form of women’s empowerment is taking place slowly in the rural areas of Tamil Nadu. He revisited the same set of households within a span of twenty-five years. He notices that along with diversification of the occupational structure other than agriculture, pro-poor policies by the state and microcredit as well as women’s representation in the Panchayats, women have become the agents of change. He also notices the self help group members becoming very vocal and taking part in the local elections. Jeyraman highlights those issues but also covers the benefits of the Employment Guarantee Act. He adds that it has led to women’s empowerment but has not led to the creation of permanent infrastructures in the villages. Similar is the case with the Kudumbashree programme which was referred to above and was started in the nineties as a community led poverty eradication programme in the state of Kerala, India. At that time, National Agricultural Bank and Rural Development (NABARD) promoted SHGs linkage banking programme had established itself as a viable microfinance model. Kudumbashree programme or programme for neighbourhood members was launched in 1998 as a community network that would work in tandem with local government for poverty eradication and women’s empowerment. The programme has universality in its reach. So it has tried to reach out to each and every poor woman in every village. The sheer spread is quite phenomenal. It has been made possible only because women are in the driver’s seat. The functioning of the programme includes not only welfare schemes but also rights based employment schemes which are routed through the local government system. In this way the programme strives to convert a microfinance led financial security model to a more comprehensive model of local economic development. (http://www. kudumbashree.org/?q=history) An evaluation study of a UNDP funded project which tried to increase the capacity building measures of elected women representatives from Panchayats in ten states taken up by the Institute of Social Sciences, revealed that the implementing partners in those states concentrated on building women’s networks to carry out the community governance particularly relating to the delivery of basic services among their own villagers. The project ran for five years that is from 2003 to 2008. The networks operated not only at the village level but also at the block and district levels. These women came to know of the strength of women’s collective and they would go together to Gram Sabhas or village assemblies to put pressure on Sarpanch (the Chief of Panchayat) to get electricity or drinking water for their villages.

300 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Similarly, the women’s collectives also tried to energise the newly elected women representatives to speak up in the Panchayat meetings. The impact was so much that the women’s network could extract the concession of spending 20 per cent of Panchayat’s own revenue on women-related events. The members were recruited mostly from Scheduled Castes (SC), Scheduled Tribes (ST) and Other Backward Castes (OBC). In one of the states the women Panchayat chiefs along with some self help groups formed networks to implement a scheme which helped pregnant women to visit the hospital for delivery purposes. In the process the incidence of both maternal mortality and that of infants decreased. In yet another study conducted the Institute over the period 200305 covered seven states to find out if any interaction was taking place between the local government institutions and microcredit groups. The project was funded by the government and its welfare activities were routed through NGOs and Community Based Organisations (CBOs). It is noticed that wherever, synergy between the women in Panchayats and CBOs took place, the benefits of welfare oriented activities got maximum attention. (Ghosh, Mohanty and Jacob, 2011). In one case, for example, the women’s collective was determined to implement the scheme on total sanitation in their Panchayat and with a lot of determination, the collective was able to achieve it. As a result, the Panchayat got an award for achieving total sanitation. In all these cases the concerned civil society members took active interest in encouraging the women to form the collective. In all these cases the women’s collectives were not afraid of going to the traditional stronghold of the village elders namely Gram Sabhas. During the first and second generation of elected women representatives, women leaders as well as other women felt shy of raising their voice in the meetings since the meetings used to be dominated by the so called elders of the Panchayats. Nowadays, women have formed networks and they go in groups and sit together and start lobbying for gender related matters. Keeping that in mind, many governments such as in Maharashtra and Rajasthan have initiated special Sabhas called Mahila Sabhas in which women discuss womenrelated issues and later on raise those in the general forum. Enabling Factors From the above analysis it has become clear that whether women get empowered or become victims of the oppressive system depends very much on the nature of NGOs with which the women’s groups are working. Starting with Kabeer (2006) to Karim (2012) and the study by the ISS reveal the point that the nature of microfinance institutions

Women Leaders in Panchayats are No Longer Afraid of Gram Sabha 301 decide the kind of results to expect. For example, Kabeer has taken up organisations which are working among the Tribal groups in the remote areas of India. Similarly, the evaluation study taken up by the ISS deal with organisations working with poor women and microcredit groups belonging to Scheduled Castes and Other Backward Castes. It is important to find out as to what kind of women’s net-working is taking place. For example, in most of our cases, women belong to poor families for whom governance means delivery of basic services such as drinking water, a school nearby for their children and electricity. They also realise that it is the role of local government to provide them with those basic services and it is that institution through which they can lobby to get things done. Thus the principle of social capital in the form of bonding, trust and group solidarity becomes the cementing factor. Pai (2004) has shown that how the chiefs of local government institutions recruited from Scheduled Castes in one of the states of India have targeted welfare schemes very effectively among their own members. They, incidentally, share similar socio-economic conditions. The author tries to show the strength of social capital formation among the most downtrodden groups of the society. At the same time, she also points out that in another setting social capital became inoperative because of intra-caste rifts. Karim has shown big microfinance institutions of Bangladesh working with a pure profit motive try to adopt arm-twisting measures to recover loans at any cost. Needless to say, some of the microfinance institutions working in India are also adopting similar kind of armtwisting measures and women are getting indebted by borrowing from multiple organisations and are in turn lending money to poorer women. The problem reached a crisis stage in 2006 in one of the states of India, so much so that it drew the attention of the Reserve Bank of India and prompted it to regulate the microfinance industry. (Sriram, 2011). But to club all the microfinance organisations as well as all the microcredit groups in one basket will be a mistake. To quote Sharma (2012) ‘There is no one grand model which will work across different contexts. The outcomes will be determined by many factors including the microeconomic policy framework, role of mediating organisations and different stakeholders’ group dynamics and so on.’ Concluding Remarks Keeping in view the low economic and political status of Indian women, two gender friendly measures such as women’s representation in local government institutions and microcredit loans to poor women were introduced by the Government of India to increase women’s visibility in the public space. The immediate results of these two measures have

302 Swaraj and the Reluctant State been to bring a large number of women to the public arena leading to social mobilisation. But because of institutional barriers and other social barriers, women have not been able to achieve the full potential of those two measures. However, later on, these two measures have enabled women to benefit from both the measures to come together, form women’s collectives and endeavour to manage the governance of basic services at the community level. In fact, in many places they have made a difference in accessing those services by the use of collective strength and use of social capital. In the process, women have not only been speaking up in the Gram Sabhas, the nerve centre of Panchayati Raj system but also have been trying to strengthen the institutional set-ups of the local government system. Those collective networks should be mobilised to their full potential to get the maximum gains out of those realise measures. It can be also argued that if the women’s networks are encouraged, the deliberate sex-selective abortions will be reduced. NOTES 1. Interestingly, the problem of sex ratio (females per thousand males) has reached a very complex situation. The result of the recent census shows that the overall sex ratio has increased from 933 to 940 between 2001 and 2011. This reflects that women in the age groups of 7+ and above are living longer than men. Biologically this is more logical than the other trend that is decreasing sex ratio in the age group of 0-6. At another level, the total fertility rate of Indian women has decreased from 2.9 to 2.6 within a decade but it masks the regional variations. In many states, the fertility rate has decreased to just one percent and the fertility rate of the high growth rate states particularly in the northern states has also decreased though at a lower rate. (Indian Express. com/news/), with so many families opting for the smaller family norm. Hence the maternal mortality rate is also declining. It has implications for the status of women in the older age groups but the declining fertility rate is taking place at the expense of the girl child which should be taken note of. 2. http://articles. timesofindia. indiatimes. com/2012-04-01/india/ 31269775_1_fertility-rate-population-stabilization-national-populationpolicy 3. Bride price in contrast to dowry is paid by the son’s family particularly in SC, ST and OBC communities. It was so because women in those communities used to participate in economically useful work such as working on the field or selling the catch of the fishermen in the market or selling the milk product in the market and so on. But once these communities climb up the economic ladder, they try to withdraw their women folk from public places and practise sex selective abortions. 4. Drude Dahlerup (2006) characterised the high percentage of women’s representation in the political institutions particularly in the context of Nordic countries as ‘slow track’. She pointed out that the process took at least forty years to reach the critical mass of forty per cent. But nowadays

Women Leaders in Panchayats are No Longer Afraid of Gram Sabha 303

5. 6.

7.

8.

9.

nobody wants to wait that long. So the countries are going for the ‘fast track’ whereby the quota provision would increase the number of women in the political institutions overnight. Swaraj the Little Republic was first coined by M.K. Gandhi in 1909 to mean the self-rule by the community. In the new ‘avatar’ the functioning of the Gram Sabha is essential for the healthy functioning of the local government or Panchayats. Because of the introduction of the above provisions, even women who used to shun the meetings on account of the presence of the village elders started trickling in to the meetings. As will be seen later, women are the major beneficiaries of this scheme. In India also there is a model of self help which is really have a bottom up approach unlike the Grameen Bank or later micro credit programme in India. The Self Employed Women’s Association or SEWA is an organisation in which women from the informal sector set up a cooperative, save their own resources and take loans from that. But it cannot be scaled up like the microcredit programme. It may be because every woman has a skill-set but she will normally not have the prerequisite capital to start with. The advantage of the microcredit programme is that it ignites the hidden skills of poor women. According to the website of Grameen bank there are about 8 million members, and 1253160 groups working with Grameen bank. They have $ 648. 68 million balance in the Grameen bank. It is just one bank. There are other large microfinancing institutions such as BRAC and ASA whose memberships also run into millions of women in the countryside of Bangladesh. Kudumbashree literally means for the welfare of the entire kith and kin.

REFERENCES Bardhan, K.P., Dilip Mukherjee and Monica Parra Torrado (2010) ‘Impact of Political Reservations in West Bengal Local Governments on Anti-Poverty Targeting’, Journal of Globalization and Development, Vol. 1, No. 1. Beaman, L., Esther Duflo, R. Pande and Petia Topalova (2007) ‘Women Politicians, Gender Bias and Policy Making in Rural India’ UNICEF, The State of World’s Children, NY. Chattopadhyay, R. and E. Duflo (2004) ‘Women As Policy Makers: Evidence from a Randomized Policy Experiment in India’ Econometrica, Vol. 72, No. 5 (September). Dahlerup, Drude (2006) ‘Introduction’ in Drude Dahlerup (ed.) Women, Quotas and Politics (London, Routledge). Devika, J. (2007) ‘Between ‘Empowerment’ and ‘Liberation’ The Kooumbasree Initiative in Kerala.’ The Indian Journal of Gender Studies, Vol. 14, No. 1, pp. 33-60. Government of India, The Ministry of Panchayti Raj ‘National Panchayat Directory’ http://offerings. nic. in/directory/pdface. asp http://www. censusindia.gov.in/2011-prov-results/data_files/Final%20PPT% 202011_chapter4. pdf. http://censusindia. gov. in/.

304 Swaraj and the Reluctant State http://www. indianexpress. com/news/total-fertility-rate-in-india-ondecline/722989/. http://www. grameen. com/index. php?option=com_content&task =view&id=782&Itemid=751. Dreze, Jean (2005) National Rural Employment Guarantee Act (Delhi, National Book Trust) Government of India (2012) Economic Survey 2011-12 (New Delhi, OUP). Ghosh Budhadeb, Bidyut Mohanty and Nitya Jacob (eds) (2011). Local Governance: Search for New Path (New Delhi, Concept). Fernando, Jude (2006) (ed.) ‘Introduction: Microfinance, Perils and Prospects (NY Routledge). Jaffri, Anwar and Vikas Singh (2006) ‘Gender Mainstreaming in District Plans in Madhya Pradesh’ in Jayal, Niraja Gopal et. al. (eds.) Local Governance in India; Decentralization and Beyond. (New Delhi, OUP). Jeyaraman, J. (2011) ‘Women and Pro-poor Policies in Rural Tamil Nadu: An Examinations of Practices and Responses’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 46, No. 43, October 22. Kabeer Naila (2006) ‘Microfinance, the MDGs and Beyond: What Difference Can Financial Services to Low-income Women Make?’ Working paper, New Delhi: IFAD and UNIFEM Gender Mainstreaming Programme in Asia. Karim, Lamia (2012) ‘Microfinance can trap poor women indebt’ http://www. registerguard. com/web/opinion/28809383-46/women-microfinancepoor-grameen-phone. html.csp. Klasen Stephen and Claudia Wink (2006) ‘Missing Women: Revisiting the Debate’ in Agarwal, Bina (ed.). Capabilities Freedom and Equality: Amrtya Sen’s Work from a Gender perspective (New Delhi, OUP). Lindberg, Staffan (2011) ‘A Silent Revolution? Women’s Empowerment in Rural Tamil Nadu’ Economic and Political Weekly (March, 26). Pai, Sudha (2004) ‘Social Capital, Panchayats and Grassroots Democracy: The Politics of Dalit assertions in Two Districts of Uttar Pradesh’ in Bhattacharyya Dwaipayan, Niraja Gopal Jayal, Bishnu N. Mahapatra and Sudha Pai (eds.) Interrogating Social Capital: The Indian Experience (New Delhi, Sage). Pant (2007) ‘Self Help Groups as Change Agents in Enhancing the Political participation of Women in Local self Governance’ in Sumi Krishana (ed.) Women’s Livelihood Rights Recasting Citizenship for Development (New Delhi, Sage). Sharma, Kumud (2012) ‘Small Loans, Big Dreams: Women and Microcredit in a Globalized World’ Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 46, No. 43, pp. 5863. Srinivasan, N. (2009) Microfinance India: State Sector Report (New Delhi, Sage). Sriram, M.S. (2011) ‘Microfinance Industry in India: More Thoughts’ Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XLVI, No. 50 (December), pp. 110-112. Sen, A.K. (2011) ‘Growth and other concerns’ Daily newspaper, The Hindu, February 14. UNDP (n. d.) ‘From Reservation to Participation: Capacity Building of Elected Women Representatives and Functionaries of Panchayati Raj Institutions’.

14 Swaraj: Learning from the Marginalised Vidhya Das Swaraj or self-rule, is inherent to every being on earth. No creature likes to be governed, ruled, controlled to any extent. This is evident in the difficulty we have in caging animals for zoos, and in even keeping them as pets, and amongst human beings in getting children in the first year of school to sit and learn in class. Teachers for the first two to three years of schooling need special training, or we need special schools! But after schooling what happens, in adult life—we learn to sit, we learn to listen, we learn to ‘apply’ our minds, and become civilised, forgetting that this is but a paltry imitation of existence. Let us just try to understand the restlessness of a child in a classroom: it is not just an urge to run about, though even that is important, but, much more importantly the child is learning about the world as it moves around. The child is learning about itself, what it can do, what it cannot, what are the things around it, and oh a thousand and one other things, that in today’s terminology would be perhaps called cognitive development, but in reality is a complex multiple quest. In growing up ‘educated’ we become civilised and slavish. Gandhi talks about this enslavement emphasising that formerly men worked in the open air only as much as they liked. Now thousands of workmen meet together and work in factories or mines. Their condition is worse than that of beasts. They are obliged to work at the risk of their lives at the most dangerous occupations for the sake of millionaires. Formerly, men were made slaves under physical compulsion, now they are enslaved by temptation of money and of the luxuries that money can buy. Gandhi’s starting point was the individual. ‘The first step to Swaraj lies in the individual.’ The great truth: ‘As with the individual so with the universe’, is applicable here as elsewhere. What applies to the individual can be extended to groups of increasing size up to the whole world community. Thus Swaraj was above all about individual autonomy, involving self-respect, self-discipline and maturity. Such individuals would resolve differences themselves without resort to external coercion, such

306 Swaraj and the Reluctant State as the judicial system. So Gandhi appealed to individual Indians to free themselves mentally and through character development; he felt if this transformation occurred then political freedom would come automatically. Gandhi saw each village in India as a complete republic, independent of its neighbours for its own vital wants, and yet interdependent for many others, where dependence is a necessity. The government of the village would be conducted by the Panchayat annually elected by the adult villagers, male and female. These will have all the authority and jurisdiction required. A view of Tribal communities helps us realise that the sense of autonomy, and independence preached by the Swaraj movement has been with Tribal communities for long. They have sought to remain as independent republics, and asserted time and again their autonomy. Gandhi talks of being ready to defend one’s village to death, as a point of honour and duty. Tribal communities did just that. They lived in relative isolation till the British began a process of colonisation, and persevered with it. The resentment of the Tribal people began with the introduction of a new system of land revenue and taxation of Tribal products. There was a complete disruption of the basic economic and social order of Tribal communities brought about by the police, the courts, and the influx of middlemen and missionaries into the relatively isolated and remote Tribal regions. The outsiders and middlemen aided by the courts, increasingly took possession of Tribal lands, and ensnared them in a web of debt. A complex system of extortion and oppression further aggravated the discontent among the Tribal communities. Colonialism also transformed the relationship of Tribal communities with their forests. Forests were an integral part of the living systems of Tribal communities. The colonial government destroyed the Tribal-forest relationship by restricting access to forests, and usurping forest lands and village commons. Tribal communities had no armies to counter British impositions. They rose in revolt en mass. Hundreds of such militant protests were organised during the nineteenth century. The Santhal Hool, was the most massive amongst these. The Santhals considered the Dikus— outsiders—and the British offices morally corrupt, being given to stealing, lying and drunkenness. In June 1855, the Santhal leaders called an assembly of 6,000 Santhals from 400 villages, and raised the banner of revolt. Sido and Kanhu, the principal leaders of the rebellion claimed that they had the blessings of God, and in a proclamation declared that ‘Thakur’ himself will fight the ‘Sahibs’. 60,000 Santhals were mobilised into bands of 1,500 to 2,000, and rallying at the call of drums, they attacked the houses of the zamindars and officials, and raided police

Swaraj: Learning from the Marginalised 307 stations, railway construction sites, the postal carriers, and all other symbols of colonial repression. The Santhal insurrection had the support of a large number of non-Tribal poor. The British regime struck back with a major military campaign, mobilising several regiments, and declared martial law in the affected areas. The rebellion was crushed ruthlessly. More than 15,000 Santhals were killed, and hundreds of villages destroyed. Sido was betrayed, captured and killed, and Kanhu was captured at the very end of the rebellion, in February 1856. The Santhal Hul, and the Kondh rebellion against the British exemplify the determination of Tribal communities to rule themselves. In the agency tracts of Andhra Pradesh, Alluri Sitaram Raju led the Koyas and Savaras in battle against the British, demanding initially full use of their forest lands, and eventually seeking to establish Swaraj for the whole of the agency area. The cruel suppression of these communities by the British has been recorded by its own officers. Yet, freedom has its costs, and for the indigenous people of this world it has been very dear indeed. The instances cited above are only some examples of how communities of peoples have asserted themselves for their independence, and how they were forced into submission. But, when we come to more recent times, the great Mahatma’s understanding of the violence that is inherent in a centralised democracy becomes apparent. He said: ‘The state represents violence in a concentrated and organised form. The individual has a soul, but as the state is a soulless machine, it can never be weaned from violence to which it owes its very existence.’ What we need to examine here is the way in which democratic governments deny people fundamental freedom, and the cost to the people for asserting themselves. But, perhaps, we need to first understand what could be the nature of this freedom we are talking about. Very simply put, basically, two stages of freedom could be thought of for a human being, the freedom from the basic constraints of meeting one’s survival needs, and secondly, the freedom to do what one wants. Simplistically put, it is only when the former is fully met, that the second stage of freedom can be thought about. In society, however, these two forms of freedom are as intrinsically linked as the interrelationship between the different classes and groups of people. In present society, we find that one group of people have no need to even think of the first stage of freedom from want, as every need of theirs is satisfied from birth, and they are free to do what they want. And here is where responsible governance is called for in a complex and pluralistic society, as what one wants to do needs to be constrained by the fact that it should not impinge on the others’ freedom for similar and even identical pursuits. But, responsible

308 Swaraj and the Reluctant State governance is a myth in present-day society, as the people in governance take it as their opportunity to engage in purely personal pursuits, regardless of the other. And the costs of pursuit of such freedom are passed on to the Tribals and Dalits of the country. If one just looks back at recent history, one can realise what the costs have been to the ordinary people. On March 2, 2001, Dewas, Madhya Pradesh, forest and police officials launched an attack on villagers in Mehndikheda and fifteen other Tribal hamlets. They raided their houses, destroyed their rations, poured poisonous chemicals down their wells and grain stocks, and shot dead four people. The reason was that the Tribal people of Dewas had organised to form Adivasi Morcha Sangathan and Adivasi Shakti Sangathan in order to resist exploitation by the forest department, corrupt government machinery and usurious moneylenders. These organisations had attracted hundreds of Adivasis and were gaining political influence so that in the preceding Panchayat elections a Sangathan member, Shri Nandu Ravat had won more votes than his rival Congress and BJP opponents put together and had been elected to the Zila Parishad. In the Bagli Mandi Committee another Sangathan member defeated both the Congress and BJP contenders to become President. Three Sarpanchs and many ward members also won with the backing of the Sangathans. All this created a lot of political tension and both the Congress and BJP were unhappy with the Sangathans. Both the district collector and the SP were new to the area and had publicly announced in Udaynagar on February 13, that they were going to totally destroy the Sangathans and leave no trace of them. A faded green flag flies atop the Shaheed Smarak (martyr’s column) at Tapkara village in Ranchi district of Jharkhand state. The flag is changed every year on March 2, one was told, in memory of the five persons killed that day in a police firing at that site in 1946 while they were demonstrating, along with many thousand Munda Adivasis of the region, for the formation of a separate Jharkhand state. In Tapkara, Jharkhand, on February 2, 2001, the police fired on a group of Tribal people protesting against the beating up of one of their members, in the context of the the 2,300 crore hydel Koel Karo power project. Eight people were killed. February 3, the police opened fire on an unarmed assembly of around 5,000 Munda Adivasis, including children, women and men. According to eyewitness accounts, the police fired more than 150 rounds, killing five persons on the spot. Five others succumbed to their injuries in the following hours, bringing the toll to ten. As many as twelve of those who sustained bullet injuries were treated at the Rajendra Medical College and Hospital (RMCH) in Ranchi. Many other wounded were being treated locally. Eight persons from six villages

Swaraj: Learning from the Marginalised 309 were reported missing. The dead have been declared Shaheeds of the Koel-Karo Jan Sangathan and buried next to the Shaheed Smarak. Thus 1946 and 2001 have come together one in Tapkara Chowk. Amrit Gudia, a retired military man, was brutally beaten up by police, when he questioned the removal of a 16 year old barricade put up by the Koel Karo Jan Sangathan protesting against the hydel power project. The following day, 5,000 members assembled in peaceful unarmed protest against the destruction of their barricade and unprovoked and brutal attack on their fellow member. They waited several hours, and finally, the leaders started addressing the crowd, when lathicharge and teargassing began. As the crowd began to scatter, firing began from inside the police station. People retaliated with stones. They were shot at point blank range, and died on the spot. A half century later, an independent government, twice independent I guess, as Jharkhand had just won its separate statehood a few months back, made them relive the repression of brutal colonialists, just a month before the anniversary of the repression! At Maikanch, on December 16, 2000, people questioned why women had been brutally beaten up by the police. In fact, women had wailed out loud, when Deepai was so badly beaten up that she fell unconscious, and they thought she was dead. This brought down the men, who had actually fled into the hills to hide from police brutality. As the men came down, police opened fire, and three men died. People had been protesting eviction by the Utkal Alumina project which would have affected more than 2,000 families in Kashipur. The police, and the political leaders were furious, as despite repeated attempts, and the formation of an all party committee to promote mining, they were not able to make inroads into the region. The UAIL had been pumping huge amounts of money to motivate the political leaders, and get the administration to toe their line. This was a desperate attempt by all those people to get the mining going one way or another. Many more incidents continue to happen in the present day that underline the violent characteristics of today’s centralised state. The backlash that people had to face in Kalinganagar in Orissa, Nandigram and Singur in West Bengal have become symbols of the modern day civil strife caused by the state that has betrayed its people in favour of market forces. The struggle goes on elsewhere too, in Kakinada, Gudgaon, Maharashtra, and Goa, to name only a few incidents; thousands of farmers have been protesting against SEZs, which will take up huge tracts of agricultural land. These zones with much more liberal labour, tax, and import laws will be subsidised by the government for promoting investments. The corporates and the governments have

310 Swaraj and the Reluctant State ganged up to repress these movements, and force farmers to give up their land resources. States like Odisha, Jharkhand and Chattisgarh have become veritable war zones between local communities and the state, as their underground mineral resources attract huge investments, and coopt politicians and bureaucrats into offering up the whole region for sale. Industrialisation is paraded as the magical way out of the poverty of these BIMARO states, but, few people look at the reality of job losses, the increased impoverisation of the already marginalised communities of Tribals and Dalits, and the complex vulnerability of women and children, as they fight malnutrition, destitution, and homelessness with literally zero resources at their command. That the decade and a half of globalisation has only led to an overall worsening of the living conditions of the people of this country is ignored time and again. Several are the statistics that indicate that employment rates of the organised sector have been steadily going down in absolute numbers. More and more people are being pushed into the unorganised sector. A strange reflection of the colonial times maybe seen here; estimates indicate that over the years of British rule, the percentage of population dependent on agriculture increased from 60% (some estimates put it at less than this) in 1800 to 69% in 1901 to 75% in 1951, with the percentage of agricultural labourers to the total agricultural population increasing from 25% to 38% for the same period. Similar to this is the growth in the unorganised sector in India today. More and more people are being pushed out of jobs into uncertain and casual employment in the unorganised sector. While the organised sector employment has declined, agricultural employment is still growing even in percentage terms, and agriculture is still the highest employer at 70% of the workforce. It is really high time, we seriously thought of ‘Retrieving Swaraj’, not just as a pedantic engagement in the centenary year, but as a serious pursuit to establish fundamental rights of people in this country, help them confront the Goliath of a state that quite loses sight of its commitments to its people, once it has got their votes. Swaraj, Gandhi argues dissolves the power of the state, and brings about an ‘enlightened anarchy’ in which each person will become his own ruler. Such were the anarchist collectives that formed in Spain in the 1930s. These collectives brought in a new social order that dissolved the power of the state into numerous self-reliant units. They organised their own agricultural production, and took over factories, and converted churches into schools and as warehouses as the need arose. The success, albeit brief, of these collectives at a time when fascism was raising its ominous head all over Europe offers us many lessons in true freedom. In India, every village functioned as a self-sustaining tiny republic. The village

Swaraj: Learning from the Marginalised 311 assembly consisting of all adult men and women constituted the supreme authority controlling all village resources, officials and decision-making. People enjoyed rights over land and/or its produce on tenure from the village government. This facilitated efficient use of environmental resources and curbed their exploitation. In the present day too, despite the years of colonial repression, communities have time and again expressed dissent and suffered much under the hands of state machineries for doing so. There is much to learn if one looks at the assertions of communities. In the Tribal regions, a growing realisation of their attachment to land has brought Tribal communities together to use existing laws and pressurise for better policies and legislations. In Koraput, one of the most underdeveloped and poverty stricken districts of the country today, Vinobha Bhave’s Bhoodan and Gramdan movements gained the widest acceptance. Even today, villages do not have private land ownership. Much of the land is viewed as a collective asset. So we have the peculiar term: landless farmers, as even those without any record of rights have the right to cultivate community land, without any tenancy obligations. This is being fast overlaid by present day revenue legislations, and several are the displaced Tribal families, who were once cultivators and self-sufficient. Now, they are homeless, and subjected to a life of forced vagabondage, as even the compensation that their fellow-villagers got is denied to them, because of their stupid oversight in not bribing the revenue officials at the right time for a title deed. There have been progressive legislations, like specially, the Panchayats (Extension to the Scheduled Areas) Act (PESA), which empower Tribal villages to make their own rules and provisions for the use of their community resources. As per the provisions of the Panchayats (Extension to the Scheduled Areas) Act 1996  Every village shall have a Gram Sabha consisting of persons whose names are included in the electoral rolls for the Panchayat at the village level;  Every Gram Sabha shall be competent to safeguard and preserve the traditions and customs of the people, their cultural identity, community resources and the customary mode of dispute resolution;  The Gram Sabha or the Panchayats at the appropriate level shall be consulted before making the acquisition of land in the Scheduled Areas for development projects and before resettling or rehabilitating persons affected by such projects in the Scheduled Areas; the actual planning and implementation of the projects in the Scheduled Areas shall be coordinated at the state level;

312 Swaraj and the Reluctant State In keeping with these provisions, and faced with the threats of eviction from their land, the people of Maikanch, Kucheipadar, Dongasil, Kodipari and Hadiguda Panchayats in Kashipur passed unanimous resolutions against any industrial or mining activities in the Panchayats, and against the eviction of families or people from their villages. The legitimacy of these resolutions was perceived as a huge threat by the government, which sent in armed police force, and in the presence of the district collector forced Gram Sabha resolutions for mining and industrial development of the area in three villages. The development of infrastructure and hydro-power projects in Koraput have caused huge disruption to Tribal communities. Blind and insensitive to the destruction of livelihoods of Tribal communities, the government initiated catchment treatment plans in the upper reaches of power projects like Machkund, and upper Kolab through cashew and coffee plantations. Tribals who had been evicted from their lands with little or no compensation because of their more liberal and egalitarian land use traditions, were completely ignored in these activities, and the plantations handed over to private parties through tenders. A cashew development corporation was constituted by the government for managing these plantations, which further marginalised Tribal communities. A movement for assertion of their right to these lands, which they had been traditionally cultivating was begun by the Tribals of Koraput, who demanded that these plantations should be handed back to the Tribal communities. Five years and more of persistent mass rallies, demonstrations, and petitions paid off, and in June, 2008, the government took a decision to hand over these lands to the Tribal communities in keeping with the PESA 1996, which states: While endowing Panchayats in the Scheduled Areas with such powers and authority as may be necessary to enable them to function as institutions of self-government, a state Legislature shall ensure that the Panchayats at the appropriate level and the Gram Sabha are endowed specifically with(i) the power to enforce prohibition or to regulate or restrict the sale and consumption of any intoxicant. The Mandibisi Gram Panchayat has repeatedly passed Gram Sabha resolutions, led by the women in the Panchayat, banning the Bihari Liquor Bhati which is creating havoc in the area. The excise department and the police have been sending threat messages to the Sarpanch, trying to get him to sign on a letter allowing the Bihari Bhati to continue. Gandhi had a dream, but it was a dream he worked hard to realise, to the extent he could. It would be best perhaps to conclude with his own words, which call out to each and every one of us: ... ‘Do not consider this Swaraj to be like a Dream. There is no idea of sitting still. The Swaraj that I wish to picture is such that, once we have realised it, we shall endeavour to the end of our lifetime to persuade others to do likewise.’

PART III

INTERNATIONAL PERSPECTIVES

15 Can Human Rights Civilise Capitalism? Kate Nash The conference ‘Social Development and Human Civilisation in the 21st Century’ was a great opportunity for me to reflect more widely on the topic I currently research and teach, the use of human rights as political tools. What is most important about human rights is not what they are but what they do. For a sociologist of human rights what matters is how human rights are framed, what they mean to people, and what effect they have in sustaining or destroying particular social relationships. Of course, human rights concern ‘justice’, but there is little point in rehearsing abstract conceptions of justice, however normatively coherent the arguments that support such conceptions may be. The way in which human rights activists address issues of justice is pragmatic: the relevance of human rights is that they can be used to make social relations more just. It is, therefore, the task of sociologists (far more than legal scholars or political philosophers) to study the success or failure, of uses of human rights in this respect: what difference do they make? And to whom? Of course this involves conceptual as well as empirical work, and this paper largely focuses on the former. As I was reading Hind Swaraj to prepare for this conference, I was also preparing to give a lecture on Marx’s article ‘On the Jewish Question’ (Marx, 1963). I was struck by parallels between Gandhi’s analysis of western civilisation and Marx’s critique of human rights in this article. In ‘On the Jewish Question’ Marx analyses two types of rights. He makes the distinction between these two types on the basis of his reading of the Declaration of the Rights of Man which was made immediately after the French Revolution of 1789. Marx sees what he calls ‘human rights’ as classic liberal individual rights (to conscience, freedom of speech etc), the most important of which is for him the right to own property. Human rights for Marx exclusively concern freedom from the state. In contrast, he distinguishes political rights as those which are exercised by the citizens of a particular polity only in and through the state. ‘Human rights’ are thus, for Marx inherently ‘egoistic’—they do nothing but contribute to social relationships of conflict, to the war

316 Swaraj and the Reluctant State of all against all in capitalist societies. This is largely because ‘human rights’ protect property rights, fuelling competition amongst bourgeois property-owners and therefore the exploitation and oppression of the proletariat in industrialised capitalist societies. ‘Human rights’ are also ‘egoistic’ as individual rights: in creating competition between members of society they destroy social relations. The problem is not just that human rights are the rights of individuals, but that they are individualist in fostering social relations that set members of society against each other. On the other hand, Marx describes ‘political rights’ as ‘heaven on earth’, as too good to be true. In principle, political rights are what enable citizens’ participation in collectively determining the conditions in which we live: they are rights to autonomy that we exercise together. In marked contrast to individualist ‘human rights’, then, political rights should increase solidarity, freedom and harmony. However, the exercise of political rights is only possible, Marx argues, insofar as they abstract from the conflicts that are supported by ‘human rights’: we are members of the political community when we exercise our political rights, but in order to do so we must leave our real, concrete selves, which are in competition and conflict, outside that community. We must shed our egoistic skins at the door and enter the political community as disinterested but fully engaged citizens, concerned not with our own petty interests but only with the good of all. Marx’s model of human rights in relation to capitalism may be called the ideological model: he argues that, not only are political rights unrealistic on this earth, they actually serve to obscure the real social relations of capitalism. If we take political rights seriously and imagine that we really are equal as citizens in capitalist society, then we are deluded. Political rights thus obscure the reality of the egoistic competition that is a necessary feature of capitalism as a continually developing economic and social system. Although their ideas differ in many respects, it is not difficult to see how Gandhi’s thoughts about western civilisation in Hind Swaraj resemble Marx’s theory of human rights as underpinning and at the same time obscuring the reality of capitalist social relations as he laid it out in ‘On the Jewish Question’.1 Gandhi also saw western societies as they were developing through capitalist industrialisation as concerned only with money, and as setting each person in competition against the other. Of course, Gandhi understood the root cause of this development in quite different terms from Marx, as primarily the product of moral and spiritual degradation rather than as driven by economic and political interests. I think there is no doubt, however, that Gandhi and Marx agree that capitalism is closely linked to social relationships of greed, fear, and envy.

Can Human Rights Civilise Capitalism? 317 The reformist model of human rights in relation to capitalism is very different from Marx’s ideological model. Interestingly from the point of view of our discussion in this paper, it also concerns the question of how capitalism is to be civilised. The reformist model is highly relevant today insofar as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights of 1948 is the core document around which human rights activists mobilise. In conceptual terms, however, we might take the main proponent of the ‘reformist model’ to be T.H. Marshall, the British sociologist who, in the very same year as the Universal Declaration, was setting out a theory of the development of what he saw as a new way to live in a capitalist society, the welfare state (Marshall, 1987). Marshall himself had little or nothing to say about human rights as such, writing exclusively on citizenship rights. Nor does his work have anything like the scope and depth of that of Marx or Gandhi. In fact, Marshall assumed rather than demonstrated that, although the only concrete example he actually worked on was the historical development of the welfare state in Britain, the evolution of citizenship rights he analysed was actually a general tendency in capitalist societies. Nevertheless, despite its many failings, in some respects the model of citizenship rights Marshall analysed as complete in 1940s Britain does resemble the core concerns of the international human rights system as it was laid out in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (which famously involved a compromise between what was then a relatively collectivist US state and the communist USSR). Marshall argued that there had been a historic evolution of three types of rights. In the first place, to those rights Marx saw as ‘egoistic’: civil rights to individual freedom, of speech, conscience, to own property, to justice before the law, and especially to the employment one chooses in an open market. Secondly, the right to political participation, including universal suffrage. Thirdly, and only in the twentieth century, social rights, ‘from the right to share in a modicum of economic welfare and security to the right to share to the full in the social heritage and to live the life of a civilised being according to the standards prevailing in the society’ (Marshall, 1987). Social rights are guaranteed by the welfare state, including (at least in principle), universal (that is national) rights to education, healthcare, and minimum standards of housing. A similar range of rights is proclaimed as necessary by the UDHR. Rights outlined in this document, formative of the international human rights movement, are similarly tripartite: including civil rights (to life, liberty and security of person); political rights to participate in the election of national government; and a range of social rights to education, healthcare, reasonable wages and so on which follow from Article 22: ‘Everyone, as a member of

318 Swaraj and the Reluctant State society, has the right to social security and is entitled to realisation, through national effort and international co-operation and in accordance with the organisation and resources of each state, of the economic, social and cultural rights indispensable for his dignity and the free development of his personality.2 It is interesting to consider Marshall’s analysis of citizenship rights in this context because he explicitly theorises the relationship between rights and capitalism, arguing that they have a civilising impact on the inequalities on which it depends. Whilst Marshall agrees with Marx that civil rights are necessary for capitalism (e.g. freedom of contract is a condition of the labour market), and also that political rights do not necessarily threaten capitalist social relations, he argues that social rights do ameliorate class inequalities. They contribute to what Marshall calls ‘class/abatement’, which, rather like the law concerning smoke abatement that were being discussed in Britain at the time he was writing, limit the freedom of some in order to improve society for all. Social rights do not lead to an equal society, or even to one that is just. They do, however, contribute to the creation of a society that is more ‘civilised in the terms that both Marx and Gandhi have specified. A society in which civil, political and social rights are respected will not only be substantively less unequal (there should certainly be less extremes of wealth and poverty), it should also be a society in which fear, envy and greed are reduced. In a society that respects rights, where a minimum standard of the good life as it is commonly understood in the society is accessible to everyone, competition between individuals should be less fierce, even if people differ in terms of inherited wealth and earnings. In such a society people should be able to live with more dignity since they should not fear falling into destitution through sickness, unemployment or old age, and nor should they be forced to act in immoral ways just in order to get money. In addition, the reformist model suggests that such a society should produce a far greater sense of co-operation in the sense that this is (albeit bureaucratically administered) a society which takes from those who have the means in order to give to those who have material needs which cannot necessarily be fulfilled by capitalist production and markets (especially children, the sick and elderly and those who care for them, and people who cannot find paid work). Does the reformist model propose heaven on earth? In many ways, Marshall’s ideal of citizenship does seem like an expanded version of Marx’s model of political community. Marshall explicitly argues that in a society in which social rights are respected, the market relations of capitalism become peripheral to the central relations of citizenship: it is as citizens that we live together, enjoying what we commonly agree on

Can Human Rights Civilise Capitalism? 319 as the good life; the majority of citizens will rely on wages earned in the labour market, but the differences between us will be minimised insofar as the good life is guaranteed for all. It is not my aim here to discuss whether or not such an ideal can be realised everywhere in the world, nor whether it can be sustained in those places that approximate it (notably the Scandinavian countries) in the face of global capitalism and unsustainable environmental damage. Here I want to explore a little more how we might think of the reformist model as ‘civilising’ capitalist relations. I have already noted that Marshall assumed the way citizenship developed historically in Britain either had or would develop elsewhere in a similar way. Critics have clearly shown that his assumption concerning not only the universal development of citizenship but also the features of citizenship itself for different groups in society and at different times and places was wrong (Nash, 2010). Marshall is far from alone, however, in assuming the universality of a particular model or analysis. In fact, assuming the universality of concepts and theories is a general tendency of western thought, built in to the ideal of reason that was elaborated and celebrated by enlightenment thinkers and that is at the foundation of all the social sciences. In contrast, Gandhi’s political theory is quite unlike that either of Marx or of Marshall, in that he writes specifically about Indian civilisation. This is clearly in itself interesting. Gandhi does not fall into the temptation of western political theorists. He does not attempt to universalise from the particular situation in which he is interested. For this reason Gandhi’s formulation of civilisation leads to an interesting question: if we understand human rights in terms of what they do, we are led to ask whether they do anything in India that takes us beyond the models of Marx and Marshall? Do human rights do anything to contribute to social relationships that can be understood as specifically civilised in the sense in which Gandhi meant ‘civilisation’? Gandhi largely uses ‘civilisation’ in a negative sense, to criticise technological and economic developments that Europeans consider ‘civilisation’ (as in the famous reply when asked what he thought of ‘western civilisation’ that, ‘It would be ‘a good idea’). In the positive sense, however, it seems to me that Gandhi means something like established, reasonably settled ‘ways of life’ that are valued by those who live them, and which themselves have value because they—on the whole—enable people to live with dignity and respect. It is true that Gandhi’s understanding of civilisation in this sense is deeply rooted in his understanding of Hindu spirituality as a way of coming to terms with the necessity of suffering (Parel, 1995). But his idea of civilisation also has a materialist aspect; it is concretely rooted and can be sustained

320 Swaraj and the Reluctant State only in village life. What Gandhi means by ‘Indian civilisation’ is, therefore, something like ‘the everyday life that goes on in Indian villages’ insofar as it approximates values of non-violence, self-discipline and the observance of duty, rather than some kind of overarching national identity. Is Gandhi’s idea of ‘Indian civilisation‘ heaven on earth? In some respects Gandhi certainly seems to idealise village life. As Upendra Baxi points out, in Gandhi’s political theory, there is no need for rights internal to the community, because lives within that community are supposed to be morally and spiritually on a higher plane. For Gandhi struggles over resources or for respect or political equality should not be necessary to ‘civilisation’, as exemplified by his resistance to rights to political representation for ‘Depressed Classes’ in the 1930s (Baxi, 1995). Nevertheless, and bearing internal inequalities in mind what I am interested in exploring briefly here is whether what are called in India ‘peoples’ movements’ contain the possibility of a model of human rights to civilise capitalist social relations that would be specifically Gandhian—albeit in a pluralist society that might itself be different somewhat from that which he envisaged. It is in this respect that a Gandhian model of human rights as civilising capitalist relations may be seen as an alternative model. The alternative model of human rights represents attempts to civilise capitalism ‘from below’, using understandings that are rooted in concrete struggles to safeguard and/ or to improve established ways of life lived in the margins of capitalist development. It is in this sense that I understand Manoranjan Mohanty’s writings on ‘peoples’ movements’ in the ‘creative society’ (1998, 2002). As they are used by coalitions of subaltern groups who have joined together in order to win different types of rights from the state—whether the local state, the national government, or the courts—human rights take their meanings from concrete political struggles. Linking together the struggles of poor people who have been divided by caste, religion and gender, demands for human rights often represent ways of life that, whilst far from perfect, are viable only where capitalist development is limited. Peoples’ movements do demand civil rights in ways that would be very well understood by Marshall, if not by Marx, to try to gain protection from state violence. In this way they try to establish conditions in which they may mobilise in public places to make their voices heard and to gather support without fear of police repression and arbitrary imprisonment. Much more novel, however, in India (as well as elsewhere, especially in Latin America) for both Marx’s and Marshall’s models of human rights as ideological or reformist respectively is the use of human rights by people’s movements to resist capitalism to argue for

Can Human Rights Civilise Capitalism? 321 rights where, for example, farming land that provides the basis of villagers’ way of life suddenly becomes valuable for mineral extraction or for projects of modernisation, or where neo-liberalism threatens ways of life built around traditional ways of living from fishing and forests. In such cases farmers and indigenous peoples resist being moved elsewhere, arguing on the basis of fundamental human rights that are, at least in principle, recognised by the Indian state, that they have rights to land and resources that have provided the basis for their ways of living for generations. I take it that such uses of human rights are exactly those that would have pleased Gandhi, as they most closely correspond to his ideal of the protection/and enhancement of ‘Indian civilisation’ as it exists actually in rural areas. Generally speaking, rural movements that are engaged in resisting the displacement of ways of life built on farming, fishing or hunting and gathering do not want compensation for loss oftheir livelihoods as a result of neo-liberal development; what they want is to be allowed to continue to live in ways that are outside and alongside capitalism. In this respect, people’s movements use human rights to civilise capitalism insofar as they carve out an alternative. They are resistant to capitalist encroachment on existing (ways of life, not in order to bring about an abstract ideal of a different kind of society, but rather to continue to live in ways that are alternative to industrial and neo-liberal capitalism. Finally, however, it is also important to note that, as Mohanty makes clear, human rights are also being used in India to challenge power that is not new, nor based on capitalist expansion, that of hierarchies that have themselves been legitimated with reference to ‘tradition’ within Indian social life. For example, where women and Dalits claim rights not to be violently abused by groups that have historically ranked above them in caste and gender systems; or where people of ‘scheduled’ and ‘backward’ castes attempt to secure genuine ways of participating politically in village councils and in regional political parties. Fear, greed and envy are unhappily not exclusive to capitalist societies, even if capitalism exacerbates such feelings through market competition: people may subject each other to violence and cruelty in non-capitalist ways of life too. To conclude, then, I have argued in this paper that what is important is to study what rights do rather than what they are. In particular, I have tried to suggest that human rights are not necessarily ideological, as Marx supposed; they may be reformist of capitalism or they may even be used to protect or sustain alternatives to capitalism. In this respect, human rights may offer political tools to civilise capitalism, both in the Marshallian sense of providing tools to ensure common standards, and in the Gandhian sense of enabling alternatives to capitalism to flourish. In principle, at least, rights can be used to

322 Swaraj and the Reluctant State minimise the damage expanding markets into every aspect of life will inevitably do to the values of any modern political community (which must include equality, justice, and respect for the capacity of everyone to live a full life according to the standards of the society); but they may also be used to foster and protect viable alternatives to capitalism, which might exist alongside it. This may seem impossibly utopian—and perhaps it is. To be sure, the use of human rights is not a panacea. If human rights are political tools, they are subject to all the problems that the use of any such tools must raise: they may be blunted, distorted or even taken over by state authorities who are called on to recognise rights claims. Nevertheless, the rise of people’s movements in India and elsewhere gives hope that new attempts to civilise capitalism are continually in the making, attempts in which the ideals of human rights may play a role. NOTES 1. ‘On the Jewish Question’ is one of Marx’s early more humanist essays, and it is written as political journalism in response to a specific issue of the day. Although the question of the coherence of Marx’s overall project has been the subject of a great deal of controversy, even if it is agreed that he took a more scientific approach in his later work, he never revoked the moral judgements of the earlier work, and they are certainly consistent with the denunciation of capitalism he continued to develop. 2. It is perhaps worth noting that everyone has the right to own property does not appear in the UDHR until Article 17. It is therefore very much de-emphasised in comparison with the Declaration of the Rights of Man. where the right to property appears as a fundamental right, along with liberty, security, and the right to resist in Article 2.

REFERENCES Baxi, U. (1995) ‘Emancipation as Justice: Babasaheb Ambedkar’s Legacy and Vision’ in U. Baxi and B. Parekh (eds), Crisis and Change in Contemporary India, New Delhi: Sage. Marshall, T.H. (1987), Citizenship and Social Class, London: Pluto. Marx, K. (1963), ‘On the Jewish Question’, in Karl Marx: Early Writings, (ed.) T. Bottomore, New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company. Mohanty, M. (1998), ‘Towards a Creative Theory of Social Transformation’ in M. Mohanty, P.N. Mukherji and O. Tornquist (eds), People’s Rights: Social Movements and the State in the Third World, Sage: Delhi. Mohanty, M. (2002), ‘The Changing Definition of Rights in India’ in S. Patel, J. Bagchi and K. Ray (eds), Thinking Social Science in India, Sage: New Delhi. Nash, K. (2010), Contemporary Political Sociology: Globalization, Power, Politics, Blackwell: Oxford, 2011 edition. Pare!, A. (1995), ‘The Doctrine of Swaraj in Gandhi’s Philosophy’ in U. Baxi and B. Parekh (eds), Crisis and Change in Contemporary India, New Delhi: Sage.

16 Alternative Visions of the Indigenous People’s Movement in Latin America: Reflections on Civilisation and Modernity* Monica Bruckmann The contemporary world crisis is not only evident in its economic and financial dimension, but mainly represents a profound civilisational crisis of world capitalism as a mode of organisation of society and as a way of producing knowledge. The international order and power system on the planet have now been deeply questioned. We are witnessing the decay of a unipolar hegemonic system that requires increasingly brutal military intervention to validate its status of domination. Western civilisation has become a factory of policies and practices that disrespect the fundamental principles of coexistence of human beings. The Eurocentric View The base of this system of domination is the Eurocentric perspective as an ideological foundation and as a pattern of production and control of the subjectivity of societies. The production and reproduction of material life of people and the elaboration of their imagery are dominated by the idea that western civilisation is the only model of civilisation on the planet, and that all other civilisations, no matter what their level of development and complexity and their contributions to humanity, are considered only backward cultures, in relation to the model imposed. The arrogance of this Eurocentric view not only justified violent forms of colonisation and colonialism but became a cognitive barrier that prevented the understanding of the ancient and most important civilisations of the planet and the complexity of the world system as a whole. As a result, valuable knowledge relating to the varied patterns of organisation of human life and society spanning a millennium, elaborate aesthetic sensibilities, and great artistic and cultural traditions and philosophical contributions including profound social thoughts * Earlier published in Social Change, Vol. 40, No. 4, March 2010.

324 Swaraj and the Reluctant State formulated outside the western societies have been denied to us. The Eurocentrism imposed a unique pathway of applying science and a unique way of producing knowledge, which diminished the value of popular knowledge systems and reduced any knowledge produced outside the Eurocentric system of knowledge to the level of folklore. In this view, time does not exist, because knowledge is universal and valid for any historical time and for any social reality of the planet. This inability to understand that theory, science and knowledge are historical products has been the major limitation of positive science. As a matter of fact, this model of science is more concerned with its internal consistency that with the social reality, which is usually called ‘externality’. Reality became a very uncomfortable element that contaminates their researches and the scientific conclusions. This ‘Thomistic’ science has got locked up in itself to produce a new kind of fundamentalism, losing any ability to understand the complexity of the contemporary world and any attempt to anticipate scenarios. Humanity is on track to break deeply with these paradigms of science and with this Eurocentric view of the world. ‘Backwardness’ versus Modernity? In Latin America, the idea of modernity, as a mode of social existence and as a model of development, emerges from the centre of the colonial system, organically integrated to its structure of domination and power. As the Peruvian sociologist Anibal Quijano argues while discussing the origin of the concept of modernity, ‘This is a moment in history in which several times and several histories are set in discontinuous, complex and contradictory associations between fragmented and changing structures of meanings and relationships, all of them, part of the unique in a process of full constitution’ (Quijano, 2005). The idea of modernity, then, arises in the centre of the colonial power structure, and becomes a legitimate mechanism to impose a unique civilisation as the only way to achieve the so-called ‘progress’; everything that is outside this vision and this form of social organisation is considered pre-modern or backward. This notion of modernity has had a tremendous destructive ability. In Latin America, on behalf of modernity, entire structures of knowledge and ancient wisdom as well as advanced communal modes of production and social organisation were destroyed. There was a systematic attempt to destroy the collective memory of the American societies (also called ‘original societies’) and civilisations, as well as their own perception of past and future. This enormous destructive capacity also meant the extermination of the indigenous population itself, which was estimated to be more than 100 million people when the European

Alternative Visions of the Indigenous People’s Movement... 325 conquerors arrived. After a few decades, the indigenous population was reduced to almost half part. It was in Latin America where the historical process of structural dependence first took shape, and as a result Western Europe emerged as a global centre of the world system from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century. Now it is the same region where new elements have been developing the construction of post-capitalist societies and a planetarian civilisation. The region is on the way to a radical break with the colonial legacy and the Eurocentric view. It is emerging in Latin America where the riches and the diverse experiences of social transformation are changing the political, economical and cultural scenarios. This transformation process poses major challenges. It becomes necessary to re-elaborate our history from outside the colonial vision and to create new theoretical and methodological pathways of producing knowledge so that we can comprehend the complexity and density of the contemporary world. But mainly, it is necessary to rebuild our collective memory distorted or destroyed by colonialism to elaborate our identity and to build our visions and projects of future, appealing to historical roots. The Indigenous Movement in Latin America The indigenous movement is perhaps one of the most transformative elements of contemporary Latin American political process. As a social movement, has a built-in a regional dimension with a deep universal content and an overview of global social and political processes. At the same time, the indigenous movement has evolved from being a resistance movement to become a movement that dispute governments and political power in some countries of the region, especially in the Andean area. From a profound critique of Eurocentrism and its rationality, its idea of modernity and its model of development, the Latin American indigenous movement arose as a civilising movement, capable of recovering the historical legacy of the earliest civilisations to build, not one but several identities, to find not one but several ways of producing knowledge (not of one kind but of several kinds) that have survived more than five centuries of colonial domination. The indigenous element is becoming the centre of the discourse for the construction of a new vision of the world as well as a new political subject and a collective emancipatory project. In this article, we intend to discuss this process. The Indigenous Movement as a Geographical and Historical Unity This social movement is no longer a set of local organisations but an

326 Swaraj and the Reluctant State articulated and articulating regional movement built in the geographical areas where the earliest civilisations developed. In the case of South America, there is a rich integration process all over the territory where the Inca civilisation and many civilisations that preceded it developed. The integration of indigenous movement reaches the territories of Ecuador, Colombia, Peru, Bolivia, northern Chile and Argentina. More than 500 years of European colonisation couldn’t destroy a historical and geographical unity, which is the ‘Tawantinsuyo’ of the Incas, and its deep roots in a specific geographical space: the Andes. National states, built in Latin America from the nineteenth century with the independence wars, did not replace the cultural identity of the indigenous people who recognise themselves as Quechua or Aymaras before Bolivians, Ecuadorians or Peruavians. The recontruction of the Andes as a geographical unity and the original civilisations as a historical unity has deepened the integration dynamic of indigenous movement in South America, which had a very important moment in July of 2006, when the Andean Coordination Body of Indigenous Organisations was founded in the city of Cuzco, with the participation Quechuas, Ichwas, Aymars, Mapuches, Cymbis, Saraguro, Gumbiner, Korisa Lafquenches, and Urus, among many other original populations and cultures of the region. The founding declaration, signed by more than eleven organisations, states a political platform of struggle for the indigenous movement across the continent which includes the building of ‘plurinational states’, the defence and preservation of natural resources, the collective rights of the indigenous communities and self-determination as a masterpiece of political action. This is a political platform that includes fundamental principles of human coexistence and deep respect for different cultures, peoples and nationalities. During the last World Social Forum of Belen (Brazil), in January 2009, indigenous organisations and networks issued a statement calling for the widest unity of popular forces in the world to articulate alternatives to the ‘crisis of capitalist western civilisation’. The main axes of this appeal could be summarised as follows: • The earth as a source of life and water as a basic human right; • Decolonisation of political power and communitarian selfgovernment; • Creation of multinational states; • Self-determination of the people; • The unity, equity and gender complementarity instead of gender discrimination; • Respect for the diversity of spiritualities in everyday experiences; • Elimination of any domination or discrimination based on race,

Alternative Visions of the Indigenous People’s Movement... 327 ethnicity or gender; • Defence of collective decisions on production, markets and economies; • Decolonisation of science and technology; • Defence of a new social and ethical alternative to the market. Since it was founded, the Andean Coordination Body of Indigenous Organisations (CAOI) has expanded itself towards the indigenous organisations of the Amazon Basin and Central and North America, broadening the spectrum of unification of the movement throughout the continent. It has not only created many different spaces for coordination and articulation of the indigenous movement around the continent, but also promoted different forums of mobilisation, with diversified organisation models and networks. This has enhanced the integration dynamics and the capacity of mobilisation at the local, regional and continental levels, with a clear perspective of global articulation. Plurinational State as a Political Project Plurinationality, as a political objective, has been raised by the indigenous movement since the 1990s and has been accepted by the progressive forces of countries like Bolivia and Ecuador. This has given rise to a large number of social and political movements demanding plurinational structures and institutions through national plebiscites, or through constituent assemblies. This new institutional model of state involves a new political praxis. Multi-national state is a political project that deeply criticises the homogenising vision of nation-state and, therefore, is the main political tradition in Latin America. This new model of state is profoundly inclusive of aspirations of multiple nationalities and groups. Based on the principle of ‘unity in diversity’, it recognises the existence of multiple nationalities, cultures, languages, religions and other forms of spirituality. Incorporating communitarian forms of organisation and authority within the institutions of the state, the multinational state has become a very new experience in our region that certainly requires a new interpretative framework capable of overcoming the vision of one state, one nation. The Bolivian constitution, recently approved by a national referendum, stipulates in its first article that, ‘Bolivia is a Social Unitary state of multinational and communitarian law, free, independent, sovereign, democratic, intercultural, decentralised and autonomous. Bolivia is founded on a political, economic, legal, cultural and linguistic pluralism, in the frame of the integration process within the country.’ This is still a project that should build its own institutionality, but certainly it represents a political and theoretical step forward as

328 Swaraj and the Reluctant State compared to the model of nation-state that supports national unity based on a superficial homogenisation, social discrimination and political exclusion. Pachamama: Indigenous People’s Concept of Land as the Mother Who Welcomes Us The historic struggle of Latin American indigenous people for the land, meant the recuperation of a fundamental means of production, violently expropriated since the early days of European colonisation. The land has a very deep meaning in the cosmic vision and the lives of the indigenous people: she is the mother who welcomes us, or the Pachamama. It is the space where life is created and re-created. In the indigenous view, men and women should ‘raise the mother land and let her raise us’. This deep relationship between human being and the land as a source of life was radically opposed to the vision of the European conquerors that saw the land as an object of possession and source of wealth: precious metals and stones. These contrasting visions produced enormous tensions and sufferings for the indigenous peoples of our continent, precisely because it was indigenous labour that was employed for the mining in the colonies, which allowed the capital accumulation that supported the Spanish and Portuguese hegemony in the modern world system. Slave labour in the mines was a major mechanism for the extermination of the people in the region. After several centuries of resistance, the contemporary indigenous movement has recuperated the rich sense of their relationship with the land, demanding respect for it as a source of life. This means to preserve the land, the ‘environment we live in’, the ‘place where our children are born and can be happy’, and where the native flora and fauna should be used by men and women with a sense of preservation. This ecological view, which corresponds to an ancient vision of the world, places the indigenous movement in Latin America in a position of global leadership. From this vision, the preservation of life is a major objective of human civilisation. Thus, the human being is placed at the centre of fundamental values for social organisation and any model or pathway for development. This is synthesised on the principle of ‘Sumak Kawsay’ which is the expression of an ancestral form of being and living in the world, linking humans with the nature from a perspective of respect. Decolonising of Power: ‘Command by Obeying’ Community organisation based on the principle of reciprocity and social solidarity is an important characteristic of some pre-colonial indigenous societies. It has been taken up by the Latin American indigenous

Alternative Visions of the Indigenous People’s Movement... 329 movements as an everyday practice that affirms a civilisational legacy and an own vision of the world. At the same time it has created new forms of collective authority and communitarian governance as one that rescues the community as a source of any and all power and the power of the individual subject to the community. An example of this new form of authority and power has been given by the Zapatista indigenous movement in Mexico, with the principle of ‘command by obeying’, which clearly reflects these two dimensions of authority. We are facing enormous challenges. Perhaps one of the main emancipatory tasks is to liberate ourselves from Eurocentrism as an ideological system and as a structure of knowledge production. It becomes necessary to re-elaborate our history and reclaim our collective memory and legacy of civilisation to build our own models of development and modernity. Because of the profundity of their proposals and their praxis, the indigenous people’s movements offer enormous potential which opens a new historic horizon in Latin America and the world. REFERENCES Blanco, Hugo. (September 18, 2006). Avance del movimiento indígena en la lucha contra el sistema. In ALAI—América Latina en Movimiento. Retrieved from www. alainet. org Bruckamann, Mónica and Dos Santos, Theotonio. Los movimientos sociales en América Latina: un balance histórico. Virtual Library Network of Social Sciences of Latin American and Caribean Network, CLACSO. Retrieved from http://www. clacso. org. ar/biblioteca Coordinadora Andina de Organizaciones Indígenas (CAOI). (July 17, 2006). Declaración de Cuzco. Retrieved from http://alainet. org/active/ 24124&lang=es ———. (May 13, 2008). Declaración de los hijos de la tierra. In ALAI—Latin América in Movement. Davalos, Pablo (compiler). (2005). Pueblos indígenas, Estado y democracia. Buenos Aires: CLACSO. p. 356. Garcia Linera, Alvaro. (2006). El evismo: Lo nacional popular en acción. In Revista del Observatorio Social de América Latina-OSAL, Año VII, N° 19, January–April, 19–25. ———. (January 2008). Indianismo y marxismo. In CLACSO Magazine. Cadernos da América Latina No. 2. São Paulo: CLACSO, Latin American Council of Social Sciences. Gonzalez Casanova, Pablo and Roitman Resenmann, Marcos. (Organisers). (1996). Democracia y Estado multiétnico en América Latina. La Jornada Ediciones and Centro de Estudios Interdisciplinarias en Cienciasy Humanidades-UNAM. México, p. 390.

330 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Lander, Edgardo (Compiler). (2005). La colonialidad del saber: eurocentrismoy ciencias sociales, perspectivas latinoamericanas. CLACSO, Buenos Aires, p. 248. Quijano, Aníbal. (2005). Dom Quixote e os moinhos de vento na América Latina. Revista de Estudos Avançados, 19 (55): 9–31. Santos, Boaventura Sousa. (December 2008). Estados Plurinacionalesy constituyente. In Newsletter of the del Latin American Forum of Education Policies – FLAPE, N° 24, Year 5.

17 Satyagraha and Resilience: From Violence Prevention to Liberation* Rashid Ahmed, Kopano Ratele and Umesh Bawa Introduction The World Health Organisation (WHO) report (Krug, Dahlberg, Mercy, Zwi & Lozano, 2002) identifies violence as a global public health priority and the increasing scholarship and intervention programmes attest to this global concern. It is identified as the leading cause of non-natural death, with homicide rates ranging from 0.9 per 100,000 for countries in Europe, and parts of Asia and the Pacific, to 17.6 per 100,000 in African countries and 36.4 per 100,000 in Latin America (Krug et al., 2002). In the South African context, researchers have called for scholarship to inform prevention initiatives (Stevens, Seedat & van Niekerk, 2004). While the growing body of scholarship has enriched our understanding of risk processes and possible interventions for violence, two lacunae have been identified in the literature. First, in spite of significant differences in outcome measures like homicide rates between high and low income contexts, the social determinants of violence do not always appear to be foregrounded in the literature. Specifically, violence as being related to oppression and social inequality is an area that could benefit from a more substantive engagement. Second, the focus on violence appears to be on risk factors that lead to negative outcomes, with the focus on protective factors or resilience being relatively new and relatively unexplored. This study attempts to address these lacunae by starting to develop a conceptualisation of resilience that can address these issues. We argue that the construct Satyagraha could help to expand the current parameters of the scholarship on resilience and inform current approaches to violence. The scope of the literature on the risk factors for violence is extensive and the WHO report (Krug et al., 2002) makes a distinction between collective and inter-personal violence. The emphasis in the literature is * Earlier published in Social Change, Vol. 39, No. 4, December 2009.

332 Swaraj and the Reluctant State however focused on inter-personal violence. In line with this focus, we commence with a brief, selective review of the current literature on risk factors for inter-personal violence. Our argument is that while there is an acknowledgement of socio-political issues in the literature, mainstream approaches to violence still largely remain, ahistorical and acontextual. We therefore review this literature and foreground social inequality and oppression as central to an understanding of interpersonal violence. This is followed by a selective review of the literature on resilience. In particular, we focus on those resilience processes more directly relevant to risk for violence, as well as attempt to identify some of the limitations in current conceptualisations of resilience. Our discussion on Satyagraha is framed as an attempt to broaden current conceptualisations of resilience. It is presented as a potential protective process in high risk environments. We conclude with a brief discussion of some of the areas for future scholarship in the area. Individual Level Risk Factors The breadth and depth of scholarship on individual level risk factors is beyond the scope of the current paper. What we do instead is highlight some of the more important risk factors and argue that rather than conceptualising them as being discrete and independent variables they paint a picture of social inequality that is also mirrored at the community and social levels. Age, sex/gender, socio-economic status (SES), ‘race’and substance use consistently appear in the literature as the most significant individual risk factors for violence (Ekman, Kaasik, Villerusa, Satrkuviene & Bangdiwala, 2007; Krug et al., 2002; Loeber, Pardini, Homish, Wei, Crawford, Farrington, Stouthamer-Loeber, Creemers, Koehler & Rosenfeld, 2005). Both globally and nationally, the age group 15-30 is found to be at greatest risk. Krug et al. (2002), report that the highest homicide rates were found among males between the ages of 15 and 29 (19.4 per 100,000). In the context of South Africa, Seedat, van Niekerk, Jewkes, Suffla & Ratele (2009), note that ‘A dominant feature of violence in South Africa is the disproportionate involvement of young men as perpetrators and victims. The highest homicide and victimisation rates are found among men aged 15-29 (at 184 per 100,000) and in some areas, for instance in Cape Town’s townships, rates are more than twice this level’. Basing their conclusion on data from the National Injury Mortality Surveillance System, Ratele, Swart and Seedat (2009) indicate that physical inter-personal violence in South Africa is a phenomenon that involves males against males, who are under 45 years of age, occurring mostly during weekends, at night and during the month of December. Substance use has also consistently been identified as a risk

Satyagraha and Resilience: From Violence Prevention to Liberation 333 factor for violence (Carcach, 1997; Goodman, Mercy, Loya, Rosenberg, Smith, Allen, Vargas & Kolts, 1986; Krug et al., 2002) Low SES is strongly associated with a greater risk for violence and injury (Lafflamme, 2001; Loeber et al., 2005; Van Lenthe, 2001). Violence also affects different ‘race’ groups disproportionately. In both high income as well as low income countries, ‘blacks’, remain highest at risk for violence. In the USA, for instance, in 1999, African-American youth aged 15-24 had a homicide rate of 38.6 per 100,000, more than twice the rate of Hispanic youth of this age (17.3 per 100,000) and more than 12 times the rate of Caucasian youth of the same age (3.1 per 100,000) (Krug et al., 2002). Studies have also focused on personality variables that increase risk (Krug et al., 2002; Piquero, MacDonald, Dobrin, Daigle & Cullen, 2005). While the literature explores a range of personality variables (Piquero et al., 2005), we suggest that the variables, self-destructive behaviour, difficulties with impulse control and self-centredness, appear consistently in the literature. Gottfredson and Hirschi ‘s (1990) theory of self-control encapsulates these variables and suggests that both victimisation and offending are related to poor self-control (which they define as having six elements, namely: future orientation, selfcentredness, anger/temper, lack of diligence, preference for physical rather than mental tasks, and risk preference). Community Level Risk Factors Community level risk factors remain prominent in explanations for homicide, with guns, gangs and drugs identified as a ‘deadly cocktail’, that increases risk for homicide (Krug et al., 2002). Unemployment, poverty and low social capital are also identified as significant risk factors for violence (Krug et al., 2002). In the South African context the legacy of apartheid1, has resulted in both racially divided communities, as well as communities characterised by various forms of deprivation. ‘African’ communities remain poorly resourced, marked by high levels of unemployment and the absence of very basic services like adequate housing, water, and so forth (Bond, 2000). The link between poverty and homicide is complex, and various community processes have been theoried to either increase risk or act as a buffer for a range of negative outcomes, including homicide (Cantillon, Davidson & Schweitzer, 2003; Clauss-Ehlers & Lopez-Levi, 2002; Sonn & Fisher, 1998; Wilkinson, Kawachi & Kennedy, 1998). While these authors employ different constructs and identify different processes, there is consensus that neighbourhood or community level characteristics are clearly associated with homicide rates and other forms of crime and delinquency. The earliest explanations focus on the social

334 Swaraj and the Reluctant State disorganisation theory to explain why delinquency rates remained consistently high in certain cities in the United States of America. The current focus is on the construct social capital (Emmet, 2003) which attempts to explain the link between crime and community level processes. The inability of a community to develop processes like trust, reciprocity and cooperative action to realise common values and goals is argued to result in numerous negative outcomes, such as crime and violence. In their review of the social disorganisation theory, Cantillon et al. (2003) suggest that the psychological construct, a sense of community, is a useful tool for assessing community level processes, since it includes all social interactions that may precede social action. Social disorganisation theory and by implication, social capital, however focus on immediate collective efficacy measured by community action. Cantillon et al. (2003) distinguish between social interactions or an ‘emotional’ bond and community mobilisation or social action. The most important implication of this conceptualisation is that community cohesion may not necessarily be reflected in social action. Drawing from their conceptualisation, we can theorise that in the South African context, negative outcomes in some South African communities may be indicative of both the breakdown of community cohesion or low social capital, while in others, the community cohesion or social capital created by apartheid adversity may still be present (Ahmed, Seedat, Van Niekerk, & Bulbulia, 2004), but not be accompanied by organised social action. Societal Level Risk Factors The rates of violent deaths differ according to country income with the rates of violent deaths in low to middle income countries twice as high (32.1 per 100,000) compared to those in high-income countries (14.4 per 100,000) (Krug et al., 2002). Some of the significant societal level factors identified in the WHO report (Krug et al., 2002) are political structures, social conflict, poverty and ‘culture’.2 Poverty and ‘culture’ have received considerable attention in the literature, and have also produced competing explanations for homicide rates (Parker, 1989). In the North American context the social sanctioning of violence as a means to resolve conflict has been used as an explanation for homicide (Parker, 1989). According to Wolfgang & Fenacuti, cited in Parker (1989) this explanation was developed and used to explain the high homicide rates in certain groups. High homicide rates in groups like ‘blacks’ and ‘southerners’ relative to other groups, are explained by societal sanctioning (implicit or explicit) for violence as a legitimate means of resolving conflict. Parker (1989) points to the racist and stereotypical assumptions emanating from this explanation, as well as the fact that

Satyagraha and Resilience: From Violence Prevention to Liberation 335 subsequent research highlighted poverty as an alternative explanation for these findings. Two explanations of the link between poverty and homicide have appeared in the literature namely, absolute deprivation and relative deprivation. Absolute deprivation proposes that poverty in itself creates untenable conditions and leaves few options beside violence for those in these situations (Brookman, 2005; Parker, 1989). The relative deprivation theory proposes that the perception of inequality with no means of achieving wealth and status lead to frustration and consequently violence directed mostly at significant others (Parker, 1989). Numerous studies support the relationship between income inequality and both mortality and homicide (Wilkinson et al., 1998). Wilkinson et al., (1998) drawing from US state level data found strong correlations between income inequality and both mortality and homicide, and weak correlations between income inequality and property crime. These findings support the relative deprivation hypothesis and suggest that a more nuanced engagement with the poverty-homicide link is required. When cultural factors are included the complexity increases, and Parker (1989) concludes that the relationship is a complex one. Research needs to hold both the competing explanations for poverty, as well as, the interaction with ‘culture’, which may either increase or decrease the risk for homicide. In the South African context, both poverty and ‘culture’ have been identified as significant risk factors. Scholarship points to the ‘culture’ of violence in South Africa (Dawes & Donald, 1994; Straker, 1992) that historically emerged in both the apartheid state terror on civilians, as well as the counter-insurgent responses to counter state violence. This ‘culture’ of violence is associated with a country for which poverty remains one of the foremost challenges (Bond, 2000). Some scholars argue that apartheid economic inequalities have not only been maintained in the post-apartheid period, but have worsened (Bond, 2000). Bond (2000) suggests the gap between the rich and the poor increased in line with global economic trends, and that ‘black’ household income has dropped in the post-apartheid period. The Social Context of Risk Our selective review of the risk factors for inter-personal violence suggests that social inequality is a significant thread for the different risk processes. The gendered, ‘racial’ and class face of violence appears consistently in the literature across different contexts. There is a significant body of scholarship that highlights these social cleavages and the interactions between them. Feminist scholarship points to patriarchy and its role in reproducing gender inequalities., while Marxist

336 Swaraj and the Reluctant State scholarship points to how capitalism produces class, ‘race’ and gender divisions. Our interest is in exploring more fully the ‘racial’ face of violence and we argue that Fanon’s work still remains useful for understanding violence in post-colonial contexts. While there is considerable debate about Fanon’s work (Hook, 2004), certain key features relevant for an understanding of violence in South Africa can be highlighted. Bulhan (1985) drawing on Fanon’s work makes a distinction between horizontal and vertical violence. Vertical violence refers to the process by which colonial structures through, both acts of commission and omission, perpetrate violence on the oppressed with significant consequences for both the oppressor and oppressed. Bulhan (1985) highlights the significant negative outcomes in areas like health, living and psychological well-being that follow. According to Fanon (1968), the ‘psyche’ is marked by dehumanisation, identity conflict and rage; and this internal damage is often accompanied by a corresponding oppression of other oppressed persons, referred to as horizontal violence. For Bulhan (1985) horizontal violence is the process by which the rage against, and the damage of colonialism, is directed, through projection, against those who most resemble the most oppressed part within the psyche. Horizontal violence is an attempt to expel this damage to the other, while simultaneously being most provoked by this damaged other. What is extremely useful about this framework is that it can integrate both empirical observations, as well as, many of the individual level theories focusing on specific aspects in the genesis of violence such as self-respect (Wilkinson et al., 1998), anger (Gottfredson & Hirshi, 1990) or other elements like target gratifiability and target antagonism (Finkelhor & Asdigan, 1996). More broadly it is helpful for explaining the ‘racialised’ face of violence, the consistently similar profiles of offending and victimisation as well as the community dysfunction that is an important risk factor for violence. For this approach to have increased utility it is important that the analysis is not confined to ‘race’ only. Scholarship points to the multilayered nature of racism and violence. Issues like gender (Kiguwa, 2004) class or economic deprivation (Hayes, 2004) and culture (Mkize, 2004), amongst other issues further significantly enrich our understanding. Counteracting Risk: Resilience And Violence Prevention While there has been a considerable interest in resilience over the last few decades, the link between resilience or protective factors and violence is a more recent one. We selectively review the literature on resilience identifying both the utility as well as some of the lacunae in this literature.

Satyagraha and Resilience: From Violence Prevention to Liberation 337 In the South African context there has been necessarily and correctly, a focus on the damaging consequences of apartheid (Nicholes & Cooper, 1990) and as a consequence the study of resilience has been less well developed. Similar to other contexts, youths from low-income contexts are often presented as ‘damaged’ and ‘victims’ of their high risk environments. Against this background the focus on South African youth as resilient is a more recent one (Dawes, 1994). There are indications that personal attributes such as optimism, humour, reflectiveness, self-efficacy, playfulness and affability can help children combat deleterious circumstances (Barbarin & Richter, 2001). Group solidarity and a sense of peer group belonging have also been identified as a protective factor among South African ex-street children (Donald, Wallis & Cockburn, 1997). Resilience refers to the observation that despite high risk environments, some children in these environments do not develop negative outcomes (Rutter, 1987; Werner & Smith, 1992). Rutter’s (1987) definition remains one of the most useful and captures what is central to most conceptualisations of resilience and suggests that there is a relationship between risk and resilience (Rutter, 1987). While risk factors increase the likelihood of negative outcomes, protective factors could also become operative, which could help mediate risk and even prevent negative outcomes. Unlike the literature that focuses only on either risk or resilience, Rutter (1987) suggests that risk and resilience are related. When an individual is exposed to adversity or risk this increases the likelihood of a negative outcome. However, when resilience becomes operative it helps mediate the risk and could help prevent negative outcomes. What is stressed in this definition is that resilience only becomes operative in the presence of risk. There also appear to be two elements identified in definitions of resilience. According to Rutter (1987) it refers to an individual’s ability to function competently in the face of adversity, but also refers to the ability to ‘bounce back’ or recover from adversity. It is the relationship between risk or adversity and protective factors that lead to resilient outcomes. There appears to be consensus that resilience is a dynamic, multi-dimensional construct (O’Donnel, Schwab-Stone & Muyeed, 2002). Researchers have recognised that resilience not only includes individual characteristics (Gilgun, 1999) but also broader protective factors. An ecological understanding of resilience suggests that it is operative at the individual, family and community level. The focus on individual resilience has more recently been complemented by a focus on community resilience and this has considerably expanded our conceptualisation of resilience (Ahmed et al., 2004; Kimhi & Shamai,

338 Swaraj and the Reluctant State 2004; Mangham, McGrath, Reid & Stewart, 2000; Sonn & Fisher, 1998). We focus on community resilience as it is at this level that we attempt to locate our discussion of Satyagraha. One of the earliest conceptualisations of community resilience (Sonn & Fisher, 1998) still remains one of the most useful. While oppression and the ensuing consequences such as socio-economic inequality place disadvantaged communities at a greater risk for a range of health problems, including violence and injury (Engle, Castle & Menon, 1996; Hill & Madhere, 1996), Sonn and Fisher (1998)drawing on the work of Bulhan (1985) and Fanon (1968)—suggest that communities do not necessarily capitulate under conditions of oppression. Instead, Sonn and Fisher (1998) suggest that communities have the potential to develop positive outcomes. They identify three possible outcomes in response to oppression: negative outcomes, recovery and positive outcomes. Negative outcomes include, inter alia, pathology and dysfunction; positive outcomes comprise resilience, consciousness and well-being; while recovery outcomes comprise revitalisation, reconstruction and reinvention (Sonn & Fisher, 1998). Community responses may therefore mediate the impact of oppression. The introduction of the construct community resilience (Ahmed et al., 2004; Kimhi & Shamai, 2004; Sonn & Fisher, 1998) into the resilience literature provides a useful framework for understanding the numerous protective factors operative at this level. Researchers propose a dynamic, multidimensional understanding of community resilience that encompasses material, psycho-social and socio-cultural resources. Dimensions such as solidarity and hope, supportive community leadership and collective coping processes protect against negative outcomes across different contexts (Ahmed et al., 2004; Clauss-Ehlers & Lopez-Levi, 2002; Clauss-Ehlers, 2003; Hermandez, 2002; Kimhi & Shamai, 2004; Kulig, 2000; Lyons et al., 1998; Sonn & Fisher, 1998). We highlight two areas pertinent to our paper. First all the conceptualisations of community resilience implicitly or explicitly refer to a collective ‘we’. Lyons et al. (1998) suggest that the appraisal of adversity as ‘our’ issue, termed communal coping, facilitates cooperative and collective responses. Second, some of the conceptualisations of community resilience (Ahmed et al., 2004; Clauss-Ehlers & Lopez-Levi, 2002; Claus-Ehlers, 2003; Sonn & Fisher, 1998) also highlight the cultural context of community resilience. It is suggested by Clauss-Ehlers and Lopez-Levi (2002) and Claus-Ehlers (2003) that cultural values influence the development of community resilience. The importance of cultural differences in resilience must be emphasised. Research suggests that adolescents from Anglo-American cultures more frequently express interest in their personal happiness,

Satyagraha and Resilience: From Violence Prevention to Liberation 339 future family and leisure activities, whereas young people from traditional societies such as India are more oriented towards the health of others, marriage of others and societal topics (Gillispie & Allport, 1955; Sundberg, Poole & Tyler, 1983). This is similar to what Mkize (2004) refers as the more collectivist orientation of African societies and could influence resilience in different ways. Two immediate implications are relevant here. Mrazek and Mrazek (1987) identify altruism as a dimension of resilience and there is a paucity of literature on this area. In the South African context, the stress of apartheid adversity was mediated by a corresponding altruistic desire by youth and others, to transform social conditions by involvement in the anti-apartheid struggles. Stevens and Lockhat (1997) suggest that the political activism of youth generated a ‘culture of collectivity’, that served as a protective factor. Satyagraha While there is a significant body of Gandhian scholarship (Bose, 1981) there is a relative dearth of Gandhian scholarship in the mainstream literature on violence and resilience. Weber (2001) points to the relative absence of cross-fertilisation by surveying the conflict resolution literature. He suggests that in spite of Gandhi’s influence on peace activists, there exists a relative absence of Gandhi ‘s ideas on conflict resolution. A discussion of Gandhi’s work is beyond the breadth and depth of the present chapter. However, a brief sketching of the context is necessary for understanding Satyagraha. Some of Gandhi’s key ideas are described in his seminal text, Hind Swaraj or Indian Home Rule (Gandhi, 1938/2006) which has been the subject of considerable debate and controversy and Gandhi (1938/2006) himself presents it as ‘a severe condemnation of ‘modern civilisation’. He states quite unequivocally, ‘I feel that if India will discard ‘modern civilisation’, she can only gain by doing so’. This debate about the text is beyond the scope of the present chapter and our reading of the text is quite different. We argue that Gandhi, like Fanon was responding to the devastating effects of colonialism. What he presents as a critique of modern civilisation, we view as a critique of capitalism and the attendant colonial domination. Yee (1994) points to the similarities between Gandhi and people like Edward Said and describes Gandhi’s approach as affirmative orientalism. For Yee (1994) Gandhi viewed India as different, but not inferior to the west, and his philosophy was one of cultural resistance to western domination. Yee (1994) suggests that ‘Gandhi viewed cultures as changing through collective experiments and cultural innovation as occurring only in the context of people’s resistance to and struggle

340 Swaraj and the Reluctant State against cultural meanings’. Dwivedi (1990) suggests that Satyagraya is part of a larger cosmic, religious belief system. Divivedi’s (1990) definition of religion captures the essence of Gandhi’s philosophy. Dwivedi (1990), suggests that... ‘religion gives the moral strength to grow in virtue by nurturing restraint, humility and liberation from selfcentredness’. Yee (1994) also identifies some of the other critical elements of Gandhi’s vision and these are highlighted here. His definition of Swadeshi is one that suggests the other or the neighbour is served first. Yee (1994) further identifies Panchayati Raj which recognises ‘the village as a central institution, with government by consensus of leaders’. Within this context Satyagraha is much broader than non-violence or a political technique. Dwivedi (1990) suggests it can be broadly referred to as a superior power to confront injustice and is a worldview that is relevant to aspects such as conservation or the relationship to the natural environment. For Bose (1981), Satyagraha is a mode of action and Sarvodaya, ‘meaning the welfare and good of all’, are central to understanding Gandhi’s philosophy on peace. Weber (2001) identifies the various translations of the Satyagraha as ‘passive resistance’, ‘non-violent direct action’ and even ‘militant nonviolence’ (Weber, 1991 cited in Weber, 2001: 494). For some the essence of Satyagraha is a belief in and unwavering commitment to the truth (Nakhre, 1982). It is precisely because of the subjective and relative nature of truth that Gandhi did not believe in the imposition of truth through violence (Gandhi, 1938/2006). To achieve Satyagraha, Gandhi proposed Ahimsa, which refers to non-violence or non-injury (Bose, 1981; Mayton, Diesner & Granby, 1996). Ahimsa refers to a ‘conscious active process by which an individual refrains from violence and rather seeks to heal or find social justice through unity or ‘oneness’ (Bose, 1981). There is further an emphasis on the responsibility for and need to love the ‘other’ or the ‘enemy’ (Bose, 1981). While Gandhi acknowledged the humanity of the oppressor, he also recognised that the oppressor may respond with violence. However, instead of retaliating with violence, he proposed Tapasaya. Tapasaya refers to selfsuffering and refers to a conscious choice, even if one is able to, to refrain from imposing suffering on the other (enemy). Gandhi believed that since truth was ‘relative’, a violent response asserted one’s truth without entertaining the possibility that one could be wrong. He believed that since truth would eventually prevail, the only option was self-suffering. Within this philosophy the means was as, or even more important, than the ends (Bose, 1981). Bose (1981) concisely captures this as ‘To punish the oppressor is to initiate a cycle of violence and hatred. The only real liberation is that which liberates both the oppressor and the oppressed’.

Satyagraha and Resilience: From Violence Prevention to Liberation 341 Satyagraha and Resilience: From Violence Prevention to Liberation Our review has suggested that oppression and social inequality are central to an understanding of violence. The review of resilience research suggests that there are potentially many protective factors at the individual, family and community levels that could help mediate negative outcomes like violence. While there has been a significant shift in resilience research from the individual to community level, as well as exploration of cultural resilience, resilience research could be enriched by a more substantive engagement with socio-cultural and sociopolitical protective factors. We argue below that these dimensions are particularly significant for post-colonial contexts and that the notion of Satyagraha is a potentially useful construct to expand our conceptualisation of community resilience, as well as inform violence prevention. Our assertion is that there are potentially many areas in resilience research that could be enriched by an engagement with aspects of Gandhian scholarship. We focus in this section on two key areas. First, there is a relative absence of engagement in resilience research on the cultural context of resilience. Specifically, there is a scarcity of literature on values and how values influence protective processes. Second, a criticism of resilience research is that it focuses on the processes to overcome adversity without adequate attention to changing social inequality. The discussion below highlights how Satyagraha attempts to address these issues. Mayton et al, (1996) identified a predisposition for non-violence within their study and identified a link between values and a predisposition to non-violence. While their study is restricted to a sample of 102 predominantly ‘white’ females, the findings are consistent with the literature. They found that those predisposed to violence placed a higher priority on ‘power’ and ‘hedonism’ values which are about social status, prestige, control and domination. Mayton et al (1996) refer to these values as individualistic values. This is consistent with our selective review of the literature which identified these dimensions as possible consequences of relative deprivation. We also suggest that the self-control dimensions identified in the literature may be related to the individualism described by Mayton et al (1996). Conversely, it was found by Mayton et al, (1996) that those predisposed to non-violence had values similar to these proposed in Satyagraha. In their study, subjects predisposed to non-violence displayed, universalism and benevolence referred to as self-transcendent values which are consistent with the sacredness of life as defined in Ahimsa. These subjects also prioritised self-restraint when likely to harm

342 Swaraj and the Reluctant State others which is consistent with Tapasaya specifically, but also the essence of Gandhi’s vision more broadly. These findings merit further investigation. Resilience resources are often framed as competencies and not enough attention is given to values or other cultural resources. Certainly, our discussion has suggested that the values that may underlie some of the risk processes can be countered by the values espoused in Satyagraha. While ‘cultural’ or value resources are important they must always be located within a social context. Our argument is that these values emerge within a context of social inequality. Individualism, consumerism and horizontal violence (inter-personal ‘black’ on ‘black’ violence) are responses to colonial domination and the outcome of capitalist exploitation. Both Fanon (1968) and Gandhi suggest that personal liberation or freedom of the ‘psyche’ must be accompanied by social action. This value shift or personal change is therefore, not individualistic and acontextual as presented in the mainstream literature, but both personal and ‘political’. Our argument is that both Fanon (1968) and Gandhi were responding to colonisation, but differed in how to respond to it. There is a similarity between Bulhan (1985) and Gandhi in that they agree that resistance was necessary to prevent cultural domination. Through his conceptualisation of cultural homogeneity, Bulhan (1985) appears to be more open to cultural integration. Gandhi by comparison, even though he has a fluid, dynamic definition of ‘culture’, seems to be less open. What is crucial to both authors is that cultural resistance was part of broader processes of overcoming oppression. There is a clear agreement that change at the personal and/or the political level can only be achieved by some form of social action. Fanon (1968) has been criticised for not condemning counter-violence. Gandhi by comparison in proposing Satyagraha had the opposite view arguing that in no context was violence justified. Gandhi (1928/2003) developed and refined Satyagraya in the South African context. Apartheid laws were defied, but protestors were not allowed to respond to state brutality with counter-violence. His account details both the capacity for social action but also Satyagraha in practice. It demonstrated how devotees did not respond at any stage to police brutality. Gandhi’s (1928/2003) conclusion is that this policy was successful. Certainly some of the outcomes were achieved and his account attests to the collective will and resistance that was achieved using this framework. Within a resilience framework the adversity generated by colonial oppression was transformed through collective action guided by a clear set of values. While there were clear success in using Satyagraha, the debate is ongoing. Certainly in the South African

Satyagraha and Resilience: From Violence Prevention to Liberation 343 context apartheid was maintained and liberation movements made a decision to complement civil resistance with an armed struggle. What constitutes transformative social action is a controversial and difficult issue beyond the scope of this chapter. Our central argument is that while resilience research identifies the risk and protective process, social action is not proposed as a protective factor. Resilience factors like efficacy, supportive relationships and community cohesion are often framed within a context of adapting to rather than changing social inequality or what Garbarino (1995) refers to as socially toxic environments. Both Fanon (1968) and Gandhi offer this possibility, but the potential utility of Satyagraha is that change is framed within the philosophy of non-violence. There are two implications for violence intervention programmes. First, it may be helpful to consider whether an explicit engagement with values could help develop intervention programmes. Second, attempts at community cohesion need to transform oppressive social conditions. Social action has the potential to create community cohesion. Conclusion The gap between the rich and poor globally continues to widen at an unprecedented rate and the neo-liberal agenda remains entrenched in countries like South Africa (Bond, 2000). Within this context the potential for negative outcomes like violence is greater and resilience provides a helpful way of developing appropriate interventions. However, unless there is an attempt to understand and intervene with the social inequality that is a significant component of this picture, our attempts may be circumscribed. Our argument is that scholars like Fanon (1968), Bulhan (1985) and Gandhi (1938/2006) who critique colonisation and propose forms of social action may still have utility. In our exploration of Gandhi’s thought on Satyagraha we conclude that it provides a value shift and guidelines for social action which merit further investigation. In terms of future research it may be helpful more broadly to examine how worldviews that incorporate spirituality and collectivism can serve as protective processes. Further research into what specific protective processes emerge with specific risk factors in different ‘cultural’ contexts may moreover be useful. For example, can self-restraint, either psychologically based or morally located, emerge in environments that do not encourage them? Do certain societies, where spirituality may be central to worldviews, foster these more easily? Finally, an understanding of power remains central to post-colonial contexts. How can Fanon’s (1968), Bulhan’s (1985) and Gandhi’s (1938/2003) work be located within these contexts?

344 Swaraj and the Reluctant State NOTES 1. The use of this term needs to be problematised. Other terms included in this category are ‘white’, ‘black’, ‘African’ and so forth. We do not imply any fixed differences and our usage is meant to engender social equality. In spite of this, usage however could entrench existing social inequality. 2. Our usage of the term ‘culture’ is also problematised for the reasons given previously. We do not imply fixed or ‘ethnic’ differences in our usage of this term.

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18 Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed, Critical Public Health Framework on Male Interpersonal Violence* Kopano Ratele, Shahnaaz Suffla, Sandy Lazarus and Ashley van Niekerk

Introduction This paper emerges out of a larger study whose main focus was to identify the risk and protective factors in male interpersonal violence, based on an analysis of local and global empirical and theoretical literature (Lazarus, Tonsing, Ratele and van Niekerk, 2008). Three objectives drove the larger study. First, the study sought to source information on male interpersonal violence (with men as victims and perpetrators) with regard to risk and protective factors; second, to identify relevant theoretical frameworks employed to explain interpersonal violence generally and male violence specifically; and third, to draw out and critically analyse the common themes from the sourced literature. With regard to the latter two objectives, Lazarus et al (2008) underlined a number of general points which motivate the present article. They noted that there are several theories and meta-theoretical frameworks used to account for interpersonal violence generally and male interpersonal violence specifically. Their study drew out the fact that many authors found a need for multidisciplinarity in approaching violence, inasmuch as such studies are lacking in the area. The study highlighted a need for the development of integrated frameworks to understand the complex nature of violence so as to enable interventions to respond flexibly and comprehensively. The ecological framework was found to be predominant in * Earlier published in Social Change, Vol. 40, No. 4, December 2010.

Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed... 349 informing much of the research on violence. This framework, which sees factors related to violence as located at a number of levels—namely, individual, relationship, community and social—is elaborated later. Interestingly, the study showed limited use of this framework in studies of male violence. And from the vantage point of the ecological framework, it is noteworthy that the analyses of male violence focused less on the community and societal levels and more on the individual and relationship levels of analysis. In contrast to the general violence literature, the male interpersonal violence literature emphasised the following perspectives: social constructionism, which was located within a critical approach; gender perspectives including feminism and theories of masculinity; historical and cultural approaches; socialisation and social learning theories; and intrapsychic and biological perspectives. Minimally referred to in the general violence literature, the emphasis on masculine identity or masculinity ideology as a crucial issue was unique to the research on male interpersonal violence. Masculinity theories that featured in the literature were often directly or indirectly linked to social identity theory. A concept which was mentioned often was hegemonic masculinity, which arose out of the work of the Australian sociologists Tim Carrigan, Robert Connell and John Lee (1985), and which might see male violence as an effect of the domination of some men over women and other men. The study by Lazarus et al. (2008) also found culture to be a prevalent theme in studies on male interpersonal violence. The theme of culture includes reference to general societal norms and values as well as ‘traditional’ beliefs and practices. However, although these more local norms, values, beliefs and practices have been identified in numerous risk assessments for male interpersonal violence, most of the meta and specific theoretical frameworks used to explain them are mainstream ‘western’ perspectives. There was very little evidence in the literature that African, indigenous and community-embedded understandings have been taken into account in understandings and responses to violence. Aim and Outline of the Article This paper is aimed at the latter two objectives of the larger study. Its intention is to enlarge the general points from the above-noted study. More precisely, the article seeks to develop a conceptual foundation towards understanding and preventing male interpersonal violence in South Africa informed by both public health and social science perspectives. The impetus for this is not only the scale of the problem of violence in the country but, more importantly, to develop a responsive

350 Swaraj and the Reluctant State framework to local manifestations and dynamics of male violence. This is how the paper is structured. It begins by describing violence in a global context before turning to violence in South Africa. Then it briefly looks at different theoretical approaches on violence before focusing on public health approach to violence generally, and male interpersonal violence more specifically. Next it describes the ecological perspective, given that this perspective tends to accompany the public health studies in violence. A critical appraisal of this approach is then offered. Finally, the article attempts to bring together these disparate perspectives in the process of developing a locally responsive, social science-informed critical public health framework on male interpersonal violence, drawing on and including a focus on the political, economic and social history of South Africa. The approach developed in this article is located within a larger framework being developed by researchers at the Safety and Peace Promotion Research Unit and the University of South Africa. Overview of General and Male Interpersonal Violence in a Global Context For the purposes of this paper, violence refers to interpersonal violence and specifically male interpersonal violence. Using the World Health Organisation’s (WHO) definition of violence (Krug, Dalhberg, Mercy, Zwi and Lozano, 2002: 6), male interpersonal violence is taken to mean the intentional use of actual and/or threatened physical force or power by a male person against a male person ‘that either results in or has a high likelihood of resulting in injury, death, psychological harm, maldevelopment or deprivation’ (see also World Health Organisation, 1996). Such violence occurs in many forms, including in family and intimate contexts, among acquaintances, and between strangers. It covers physical, sexual and psychological acts or acts involving deprivation or neglect, but excludes political or socially motivated violence planned by a group (cf., Lazarus et al., 2008). Interpersonal violence and male interpersonal violence specifically are some of the most intractable and ubiquitous problems facing the world at present. Global burden of disease estimates indicate that, in 2000, approximately 1.6 million people died from self-inflicted, interpersonal or collective violence (Krug et al., 2002). Of the total number of global violence fatalities (including suicide, interpersonal and collective violence) in 2000, nearly 520,000 people were killed in acts of interpersonal violence—a rate of 8.8 per 100,000 population. A marked variation in homicide rates by age and sex underlies this profile on interpersonal violence. Males accounted for 77 per cent of all homicides, with rates reportedly three times higher than those for

Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed... 351 females (13.6 and 4.0 per 100,000 respectively). Estimates of homicide rates by age group indicate the highest rates to be among males aged 15–29 years (19.4 per 100,000), followed by males between the ages of 30 and 44 years (18.7 per 100,000). Global figures further reveal that violence disproportionately affects low—and middle-income countries. The overall rate of violent death for this cluster of countries was estimated in 2000 to be 32.1 per 100,000 population, compared to the significantly lower rate of 14.4 per 100,000 for high-income countries (Krug et al., 2002). Rates and patterns of death due to interpersonal violence have also been found to vary by region and country. The highest homicide rates have been noted in countries in sub-Saharan Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean, and the lowest in East Asia and the Western Pacific (Rosenberg et al., 2006). The mortality figures noted earlier are considered to be underestimates of the actual burden of violence. While it is largely recognised that official records on cases of non-fatal violence are incomplete, and that global estimates of the non-fatal burden of interpersonal violence are accordingly inexact, it has been observed that for every individual who dies due to violence, many more are injured and found to suffer a range of negative physical, sexual, reproductive and mental health sequelae (Krug et al., 2002). General and Male Interpersonal Violence in South Africa A problem which has plagued South Africa’s oppressive colonial and apartheid past, violence remains a serious problem after the establishment of constitutionalism and democracy. Almost on a daily basis the media reports stories of violence. Even though some of the stories are gruesome (for example, du Preez, 2003; Krog, 2008; Meldrum, 2006; Perry, 2007; Shankman, 2008), violence has become almost banal (see Gorringe, 2006) in the country. Statistics support the qualitative perception of interpersonal violence as a serious problem. The Crime Information Analysis Centre of the South African Police Service (2007) reports that in 2006–07 there were 19,202 reported cases of murder (or murders at a rate of 40.5 per 100,000 of the population). In addition, there were 20,142 cases of attempted murders (42.5 per 100,000 of the population), 218,030 incidents of assault with intent to inflict grievous bodily harm (460.1 per 100,000 of the population) and 52,961 cases of rape (111.0 per 100,000 of the population) (Crime Information Analysis Centre: South African Police Service, 2007). South Africa has one of the highest rates of violence in Africa and the world (Altbeker, 2006, 2007; Krug et al., 2002). Its rates of interpersonal violence are said to be five times higher than the global

352 Swaraj and the Reluctant State average (Suffla, van Niekerk and Duncan, 2004). While violence has been estimated by the WHO to constitute 26 per cent of all injury deaths worldwide by the WHO (Krug et al., 2002), it accounted for nearly 40 per cent of all injury deaths in South Africa, as recorded by the National Injury Mortality Surveillance System (NIMSS) during 2005 (Prinsloo, 2007). During the period 2001–05 the total number of violence-related deaths recorded by the NIMSS was 33,377 across four of the major cities of South Africa (Cape Town, Durban, Johannesburg and Tshwane) (Lau, Manda, Jetha and Petersburgo, 2008). Young men are the predominant victims and perpetrators of violence. This is a global phenomenon (Altbeker, 2006; Krug et al., 2002; Norman, Matzopoulos, Groenewald and Bradshaw, 2007; Pelser, 2008). The difference between South Africa and global averages lies in the fact that the male interpersonal violence rate among young South African men is nine times higher than the global average among young men (Norman et al., 2007). Of the total number of violence-related male homicide victimisation, the highest proportion of deaths occur in the 21–30 age range (35.4 per cent), followed by the 31–40 age range (20.1 per cent) (Lau et al., 2008). Violence-related injuries and deaths constitute a significant contributor to potential and actual years of life lost for South African males (Bradshaw et al., 2003; Matzopoulos, van Niekerk, Marais and Donson, 2002; Suffla et al., 2004). South African victimisation surveys show that males tend to be affected by violence more than females (Central Statistical Service, 1996; Statistics South Africa, 1999). According to Ratele, Swart and Seedat (2009), in South Africa males are 7.4 times more likely to be victims of homicide than females. In their work, based on data from the South African NIMSS, they show that over 88 per cent of homicide victims were male and 11.9 per cent were female. In comparison, the World Health Report on Violence and Health (Krug et al., 2002) found that globally, homicide rates among males are more than three times higher than those for females, accounting for 77 per cent of all homicides. Some South African researchers have explained the differential levels of victimisation of males and females as being related to violent masculinism. For instance, in their study on what are known in urban black neighbourhoods as amagents, researchers at the Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation have argued that a macho attitude and masculinism are implicated in the development of young men into life of violence and crime (Segal, Pelo and Rampa, 1999). Masculinism is defined as involving elements of ‘defiance, experimentation and the need to push boundaries in their lives in order to prove their manhood and independence’ (Segal et al., 1999, unpaginated).

Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed... 353 It must be obvious that there is a need to focus on males generally, and younger males in particular, when it comes to understanding interpersonal violence. An understanding of factors associated with protection from and risk for violence—related injury is a crucial stepping stone on the pathway to more effective preventive action (see Lazarus et al., 2008). In this regard, some researchers argue that South Africa’s social crime prevention policies, its criminal justice system and violence prevention strategies seem to have failed (Altbeker, 2007; Pelser, 2007, 2008). It has been argued that that government is seemingly in denial about the country’s crime problem, specifically violent crime, because it simply has no solutions (Altbeker, 2007). The same may be true for violence generally and male interpersonal violence in particular: the state seems to have run out of ideas on how to deal with the problems. From research globally, Kroner (2005) concludes that the time has come to answer the ‘whys’ in relation to violence. Policy makers and community activists, not only researchers, also want to know why violence occurs. In addition, some researchers (for example, Carlson, 2005) have stressed the need for future studies on violence to focus on males, and specifically on cultural aspects in relation to violence. Internationally there is a trend towards analysis of protective factors against violence alongside risk factor analyses. Norman et al. (2007) state that violence prevention is a priority public health issue for South Africa and that the determinants of violence need further research to be well understood. Much violence research in South Africa has focused on women’s experiences of it thereby inadvertently or otherwise neglecting the need for the identification of risk factors to male violence perpetration and victimisation (Abrahams, Jewkes, Hoffman and Laubscher, 2004). ‘It is critical that further research be done to better understand men’s use of violence against partners and to develop effective prevention strategies’ (Abrahams, Jewkes, Laubscher and Hoffman, 2006: 263). The need to develop a deeper understanding of male interpersonal violence emerges from this context of disproportionately high levels of violence, especially the role of males and masculinity in violence. Finding the root to this problem, including uncovering protective factors to male interpersonal violence, will undoubtedly prove a complex task. Similarly, the effort to draw out a framework to understand the factors upon which intervention programmes will be based is a complex exercise. It is for this reason that an in-depth analysis of local and international research and theory in this field has been conducted (see Lazarus et al., 2008). It is possible that South Africa’s unique historical and cultural situation may have produced an operable aetiology for violence that includes unknown or uncommon variables. Research into

354 Swaraj and the Reluctant State and a framework about its causes needs to be holistic as well as localised, drawing on all relevant and unique perspectives and world views. Different Approaches to Understanding Violence There is a wide range of perspectives employed to understand violence generally, depending on disciplinary location and, as was noted, theoretical and metatheoretical frameworks utilised. Researchers in public health, criminology, psychology, sociology, gender studies, including studies of men and masculinities, have had a long-standing or relatively recent interest in the study of violence. Research interest in violence tends to be differentiated by how the phenomenon is defined. For instance, when many criminologists studied violence they have generally tended to construe it ‘as the intentional and violent violation of law that is committed without defence or justification, and is sanctioned by the state as criminal, with the implicit consequence of enforcement and punishment through deterrence, incapacitation and incarceration’ (Stevens, Seedat and van Nierkerk, 2003: 362; also see, for example, Jones, 1997; Mauricio and Gormley, 2001; Rhodes, Allen, Nowinski and Cillessen, 2003). Psychological studies of violence, on the other hand, usually focus on individuals. In the main, psychological researchers view violence as having a biological, intra-psychic or behavioural basis (Avakame, 1998; Capaldi and Clark, 1998; Haj-Yahia, 1998; Skuja and Halford, 2004; Zosky, 2005). In contrast, sociologists usually argue that violence is not necessarily exerted by an individual but by ‘social structures, created and/or perpetuated by custom or by law’ (Stevens et al., 2003: 361). Sociological perspectives on violence include group relations theories, social conflict theory, exchange theory, resource theory, theory of urban inequality, social disorganisation theory, social capital and cultural/sub-culture theories (Almgren, 2005; Clauss-Ehlers and Levi, 2002; Wilkinson, Kawachi and Kennedy, 1998). Studies located within gender perspectives, including feminist and masculinity studies, generally focus on gender power (Abrahams et al., 2004; Barker and Ricardo, 2005; Bourgois, 1996; Gadd, 2002; Hall, 2002; Hong, 2000; Jewkes, Levin and Penn-Kekana, 2002; Ratele et al., 2007; Weis, Centrie, Valentin-Juarbe and Fine, 2002). Theories of men’s identities or masculinities, specifically theories concerned with the gender of males, occupy a dominant perspective in studies focusing on male violence (for example, Barker and Ricardo, 2005; Campbell, 1992; Gibson and Hardan, 2005). Studies framed by gendered theories of masculinities aim to account for the fact that violence tends to be predominantly something done by men to women and other men.

Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed... 355 However, it is of interest to note that as a framework for understanding violence, masculinity is minimally discussed in the general literature on violence, or even interpersonal violence. For the sake of thoroughness, it is crucial for a conceptual framework on male violence to pay attention to theoretical insights from different disciplines such as those referenced earlier, as well as other pertinent ones. As indicated earlier, an objective of the larger study out of which this article emerges (Lazarus et al., 2008) was to critically examine the conceptual underpinnings of the research work on violence. This included specific attention to the work that has been undertaken within the Crime, Violence and Injury (CVI) Presidential Lead Programme (for example, see Seedat, 2002a, 2002b). The study found the CVI to have a commitment to multidisciplinarity, intersectoral collaboration, inclusion and mainstreaming of indigenous knowledge and voices, including religious and spiritual worldviews, in addition to its public health focus. Therefore, in addition to an emphasis on prevention, risk and protective factors, and safety promotion, the work which precedes the conceptual foundations developed here reflects a strong critical approach characterised by: a human rights perspective; a commitment to transformation; a historical and contextual approach; and engagement with issues such as power and oppression, especially in the context of racial dynamics, feminism and masculinity. It also includes analyses of colonialism, with a particular focus on the effects of apartheid on the mental health of South Africans. The CVI’s approach to research includes: a commitment to ‘data to action’; diversity and pluralism in all aspects of the research process; incorporation and mainstreaming of indigenous knowledge systems; collaboration with and participation of stakeholders; as well as researcher reflexivity (Seedat, 2006). The main challenges for understanding and preventing violence, and for the work of the CVI in particular, which this conceptual framework seeks to address, are: integrating approaches towards a ‘critical public health’ framework; a stronger gender lens; a stronger focus on culture and on health promotion; an inclusion of marginalised voices; and a deeper analysis of risk and protective factors. The conceptual foundation laid out here foregrounds the public health model. The relative weight given to the public health approach is that within the male interpersonal violence literature, accessed in the study by Lazarus et al. (2008), little reference was made to the public health approach, even though this shows up as a dominant approach in the general violence literature. Of equal importance, if not more so, is that more than other approaches, the public health perspective emphasises violence prevention. Yet another strong appeal of the public health perspective on violence is its population-oriented approach,

356 Swaraj and the Reluctant State rather than focusing on smaller groups or individuals. The approach has also proven adaptable to a wide variety of setting and topics. Finally, the public health logic, as well as being associated with other relatively successful prevention work, upholds the idea that violence prevention is contingent on a number of important factors, namely, the identification of the problem, the identification of risk factors, the development and testing of pilot initiatives, and the widespread implementation and ongoing measurement of effectiveness. These aspects are elaborated in the following section. Public Health Approach to Violence The public health approach argues that the principles that are utilised with communicable diseases can also be applied to non-communicable health problems (Butchart, 1996). For instance, Caetano and Cunradi (2002: 633–34), writing about alcoholism state that a public health approach can effectively be applied to alcohol dependence to ‘build a population-based response to alcohol dependence... identify high-risk groups in the population, which in turn aid in the development and implementation of community-based prevention interventions’. Similarly, the public health perspective on violence is underpinned by the same sort of principles that have informed research into other health issues. More importantly, public health work into violence is informed by the belief that interpersonal violence, or any form of violence, in a society is preventable (Mercy, Rosenberg, Powell, Broome and Roper, 1993). This is possibly the greatest advantage of a public health approach to violence. The public health approach has several other strengths, as indicated earlier. The first advantage of this approach over other approaches to understanding and preventing violence is the space it allows to accommodate many disciplines and perspectives. Public health practitioners recognise that violence has psychological, social, neurological, physiological and cognitive components, and that violent behaviour is a result of the interaction between environmental, socialisation and behavioural factors evident at the level of populations. The accommodative ability of the public health approach and its recognition of the multidimensionality of violence imply that there is room for insights from other disciplines and theories to be brought into conceptualisations and prevention work. This is what the section on critical public health to male violence in the following attempts to do, specifically in bringing to attention work on historical trauma. Another advantage of a public heath approach is its appreciation for the multiplicity of contributing factors to violence. These factors range from factors on the micro, neurological level, to the macro,

Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed... 357 sociological level. Closely related to recognising the multiple determinants of violence, this approach views violence as a result of the ecological intertwinement of behavioural, family and socio-physical facts (Butchart, 1996). And finally, the public health approach to violence has as one of its greatest strengths, a four-step model which directs the attention of those concerned with violence on strategies for understanding and preventing violence (see Figure 1). According to Krug et al. (2002: 4), the key steps of the public health approach are: (a) defining the problem; (b) investigating why violence occurs; (c) designing, implementing, monitoring and evaluating interventions; and (d) implementing interventions, disseminating information and determining the costeffectiveness of programmes (see also Mercy et al., 1993). Step 1:

Step 2:

Step 3:

Step 4:

Define the Problem

Identify Risks and Causes

Design, Implement Disseminate Widely and Measure Effectiand Evaluate veness and Efficiency

Primary questions during this step are: what is the nature of violence, who is affected as perpetrator or victim, how does violence manifest, when does it occur and where is it concentrated?

The question in this step is, why. For instance, why does violence occur more in some groups than others, in certain places more than others and at certain times more than other times?

What works? For example, progra-mme designers need to respond to whether the progra-mme will work with all or only some target groups, and in all or only some settings.

The questions here are: what is the impact of the programme, and can it be disseminated to the larger population?

This step involves the collection of data on nature, magnitude and extent of violence; for example, through epidemiological surveillance and monitoring.

Here then, the concern is with the identification of risk factors and causes; for example, through a variety of epidemiologic studies, including rate calculations, cohort studies and case control studies.

The focus turns to programme design, implementation, evaluation and refinement; for example, with the help of randomised control studies.

This step entails diffusion, replication and impact assessment of intervention; for example, by undertaking impact assessments through examining incidences as well as by conducting effectiveness and efficiency studies.

Figure 1. The Four-Step Logic of the Public Health Approach to Violence Source: Sethi, Marais, Seedat, Nurse and Butchart, 2004.

358 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Ecological Perspective Underpinning the public health approach is an ecological perspective which is often also referred to as a systems, or eco-systemic, approach. While some authors may highlight distinguishing features for each of these terms, they are generally used interchangeably, and include the same main principles. Perhaps the easiest way to identify these similarities is to talk of them as reflecting a ‘systems thinking’, metatheoretical view of persons and the world. This view is characterised by the principle of interdependence, which emphasises that all aspects of any system are interconnected, and influence and are influenced by other parts of the system; and a belief that these interactions are cyclic or recursive rather than being ‘cause-and-effect’ in nature. Within psychology (especially community psychology), this perspective is evident in the emphasis on understanding and responding to ‘the person-in-context’ (Seedat, Duncan and Lazarus, 2001). The implications of this perspective are that one must ‘assess’ the problem at all levels of the system, and ‘intervene’ or address the problems identified at as many levels of the system as possible or appropriate, determined by an assessment of key levers for change. This generally demands a multi— or interdisciplinary approach for the purposes of conducting a multilevel analysis of the issues concerned, and comprehensive programmes, incorporating a variety of professionals and non-professionals, to address the challenges. Theorists and practitioners categorise these levels of the system in different ways, with some (e g Krug et al., 2002) referring to the individual, relationship, community and societal levels of analysis and action, and others referring to the micro, meso, and macrosystems involved. Parker, Dawes and Farr (2004) refer to three linked influence systems: the macro-societal system, proximal social contexts and the behavioural system of the individual. While most people working within this framework would argue for the importance of looking at the dynamics between and across the levels of the system, this task remains a challenge—more generally, within the context of trying to understand violence, and male interpersonal violence particularly (Lazarus et al., 2008). Within the context of violence, the WHO’s World Report on Violence and Health uses an ecological perspective to frame its analysis and presentation of findings. According to the authors: ‘Recent research suggests that while biological and other individual factors explain some of the predisposition to aggression, more often these factors interact with family, community, cultural and other external factors to create a situation where violence is likely to occur’ (Krug et al., 2002: 3). They argue that:

Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed... 359 The ecological framework highlights the multiple causes of violence and the interaction of risk factors operating within the family and broader community, social, cultural and economic contexts. Placed within a developmental context, the ecological model also shows how violence may be caused by different factors at different stages of life (p. 13). ... [and that] ... The interaction between individual factors and the broader social, cultural and economic contexts suggest that addressing risk factors across the various levels of the ecological model may contribute to decreases in more than one type of violence (p. 15).

Throughout the WHO report (Krug et al., 2002), risk factors to violence are located at each of the four ecological levels: individual, relationship, community and societal levels. It is interesting to note that a number of researchers have adapted this approach by combining it with other approaches. For example, there is the ecological-transactional approach, developmental-ecological approach, social-ecological approach and a cognitive-ecological approach. Many of the studies employing an ecological framework either pursue or argue for the need to pursue a multidisciplinary approach to the study of violence and interpersonal violence for the purposes of ensuring that all four ecological levels (individual, relationship, community and societal levels) are included. For example, Stevens et al. (2003: 363) highlight the need to: Transcend disciplinary boundaries ... promote greater collaboration across disciplinary, methodological and theoretical boundaries. This is particularly critical, given the complex causal pathways and constructed meanings of violence that may necessitate the broadest possible range of health and social-scientific inputs to comprehensively prevent and control this social phenomenon.

Heise (1998: 262) also encourages the adoption of an, ‘Integrated, ecological framework for understanding the origins of gender-based violence. An ecological approach to abuse conceptualises violence as a multifaceted phenomenon grounded in the interplay of personal, situational, and sociocultural factors.’ Heise argues that abuse results from the interplay of personal, situational and socio-cultural factors at different levels in the social environment. She attempts to present factors which are predictive at each level of the social ecology. For example, at an individual level, factors include being abused as a child or witnessing marital violence in the home, or having an absent or rejecting father; at the level of the family or relationship factors include the use of alcohol, male control of wealth, decision-making in the family and marital conflict; at a community level factors include poverty and unemployment, social isolation of the woman and male participation

360 Swaraj and the Reluctant State in delinquent peer associations; and at a societal level, factors include male ownership of women, ideas of masculinity linked to aggression and dominance, rigid gender roles, acceptance of interpersonal violence and acceptance of physical aggression. In South Africa, Jewkes et al. (2002: 1614) raise some important concerns about the ecological approach. These authors argue that it is difficult to scientifically conceptualise the different levels and, in particular, to distinguish between the ‘community’ and ‘societal’ levels. They also argue that the factors influencing intimate partner violence operate at many, if not all the levels, and so the allocation to any one level is arbitrary and, perhaps more importantly, ‘conceals the impact of one factor on others in the model as well as interrelationships between factors’. The authors argue for an alternative model that represents a web of associated and mediating factors and processes. A Critical Public Health Approach to Male Violence Contextual Challenges, Multi/Trans-disciplinarity, Multivocality and Responsiveness The preceding sections lay a foundation for the development of an overarching critical approach for understanding and responding to male violence. Figure 2 is a representation of the developing conceptual scheme which currently grounds our position with regard to understanding and preventing male interpersonal violence. In developing the approach we took into consideration a number of theoretical and practical exigencies. These demands are pressed on us by criticisms such as those by Stevens, Seedat and van Niekerk (2003) which contend that social, economic and physical factors such urbanisation, income inequality and living conditions have complex relationships with violence, and therefore frameworks to comprehend and intervene to reduce the likelihood of violence cannot simply be transposed from one context to another. As a result of such contentions, some of the challenges that need to be taken into account in framing violence are: the ability to be responsive to local, changing conditions; attention to structures of social and political power and not only a focus on individuals or relationships between individuals; a concern with cultural understandings within a multicultural context; and a concern with highly unequal income levels, widespread poverty and unemployment. With this conceptual foundation it is argued that responsive, critical work on violence must draw on the insights of public health research in violence. But such work would fall short if it does not take into account local cultural knowledge and experiences, and relevant social science studies into violence. This undertaking is therefore seen as part of an

Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed... 361 effort to fulfil a call for analyses of programmes that bring together the elements of multiple voices, different theories and meta-theories, systems thinking, dynamism and a critical outlook, especially on power—within a coherent framework. The approach is further necessitated by the contention that public health and social sciences such as criminology are driven by differing epistemologies, ontologies, methodologies and theoretical understandings when approaching violence and therefore, insofar as the ‘public health model was initially developed in the context of high-income countries, a central challenge is to determine its value and appropriateness for South Africa and other low-income countries’ (Stevens et al., 2003: 363).

Figure 2. Developing Conceptual Framework Source: Lazarus, Tonsing, Ratele & van Niekerk, 2009.

The role of power in this conceptual framework, and how it is dealt with by researchers and programme developers, needs underlining. It is our view that the role of power in violence is obvious, yet not always surfaced. Structural power issues in the social milieu have to be purposefully tackled with the help of theory. Negligence regarding local forms of oppression and inequalities between groups and persons as

362 Swaraj and the Reluctant State members of communities is likely to lead to erroneous conclusions since research has shown that forms of power are related to the manifestation of violence. Yet this is what is precisely evident in some studies on violence and prevention interventions. Naturally, considerations of power in South Africa must include a reflection on the effects of history, of intergenerational colonial and apartheid trauma, as well as on effects of employment, income, gender inequities, and infrastructural and racial inequalities. There are a number of other issues that cannot be easily disregarded in using this conceptual framework in studies and prevention programmes. Two in particular need mentioning. First is the fact that the schema is viewed as relatively open in relation to which identity or practice factors (for instance gender or history or economic issues) need to be foregrounded in designing intervention programmes or undertaking studies. One of the challenges in developing a framework on male interpersonal violence is that researchers need to strive towards ‘something more’ than a loose mix of approaches. It is thus a key factor that in employing this foundation, researchers and programmes must view the relationships amongst the various elements of the framework as dynamically related to each other. For instance, we see the participatory action research approach and traditional public health approach as mutually influencing each other; the relationship between a constructionist view and positivist views about the nature of the reality as needing to communicate with each other; and that the nature of the problem will determine whether it is the identity or practice of gender, or culture, history, or social learning that is held foremost in the interpretation of data. Second, and related to this, is the work that goes into finding out how best to integrate different paradigms and meta-theories so that they complement rather than violently contradict one another. In this regard, it is important to underline that, even while accommodating diverse philosophical foundations of science, public health research often assumes a stance of scientific neutrality. This is a weakness which we hope would find general acceptance. It is important to recognise that research takes sides—often that of the status quo, but sometimes the side of those desirous to change the conditions of society. It is important to be conscious that there is often a clash of varying ontologies, epistemologies and methodologies in efforts geared towards the prevention of violence. It is important then to realise that other perspectives are consciously or otherwise excluded from multidisciplinary work. Researchers often employ theories simply because they are what have been learned and used in the past, not always because they are tested and powerful explanatory devices.

Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed... 363 The fact that public health approach often assumes a position of neutrality needs to be challenged in the light of the wrong belief that the approach is in and of itself an all-encompassing and unbiased framework able to accommodate a diversity of perspectives. The key element drawn from this is therefore the conscious introduction of alternative and complementary perspectives of science and their application to the resolution of violence as an obstacle to health, psychosocial well-being and social development. A further challenge for any responsive, critical and integrated frame on violence relates to looking at how one can bring the necessary different voices, disciplines, worldviews and perspectives together so as to ensure a multi-level analysis and response—in a culturally and philosophically sensitive way. Inherent in this are a set of issues relating to inclusion of different views in a framework of respect for sameness and differences. Yet another challenge, which links specifically to the critical nature of this exercise, relates to the need for a sensitive, open and assertive engagement around the question of how culture relates to the understanding of violence. This refers specifically to the need to examine the power dynamics within the cultural debates. This is not a new debate or challenge, but there has been a tendency on the part of ‘critical’ psychologists and others to exclude cultural arguments because they often gloss over the power dynamics that result in the oppression of various groups of people, particularly women. Without repeating ourselves, it is important to underline the fact that a responsive, critical public health framework for male interpersonal violence needs to be ecological in nature, linked to systems related to and attentive to power. In addition to directing our focus to the different levels of the system, an ecological approach also facilitates a ‘no-blame’ approach which is needed to break through the barriers created by the backlash phenomenon in gender debates. The cyclic nature of the dynamics in gender relations, and the cycle of violence, are important to highlight and further understand. The perspectives and theories relating to men as a gender, that is, masculinity, are central to this framework. The literature review discussed in this chapter constituted a beginning of a process of identifying the key elements of such a framework, and how it could be further developed for the purposes of providing an effective perspective to understand and respond to male interpersonal violence. Linked to this is a need to draw in theories relating to social identity. An important challenge to address here is to look at how this concept translates into risk and protective factors at all levels—particularly at the community and societal levels which are the major focus for public health.

364 Swaraj and the Reluctant State In the next section we show how an adapted public health approach is able to account for and respond to some of the issues raised earlier. This is exemplified through a discussion on social learning within a historical trauma framework. Intergenerational Social Learning within a Historical Trauma Framework Social learning theories are often used to explain violence, in particular, interpersonal violence (Avakame, 1998; Capaldi and Clark, 1998; Corvo and Carpenter, 2000; Haj-Yahia, 1998; Jewkes et al., 2002; Kenway, Fitzclarence and Hasluck, 2000; Lackey and Williams, 1995; Reitzel-Jaffe and Wolfe, 2001; Skuja and Halford, 2004). This is often linked to the concept of intergenerational transmission or cycling of violence (Heise, 1998; Jewkes et al., 2002; Reitzel-Jaffe and Wolfe, 2001; Tolan, GormanSmith and Henry, 2002). For example, Jewkes et al. (2002: 1611) state that: ‘An important theory of domestic violence causation relates to the intergenerational cycling of violence. This is visible in Heise’s framework in her individual level factors and has been said to be more important for perpetration of violence than for victimisation.’ Although the literature reveals that there is some focus on intergenerational social learning and trauma, particularly relating to witnessing or experiencing violence in one’s family-of-origin, there is virtually no critical historical focus on this set of risk factors for violence, despite evidence (particularly in indigenous communities and previously colonised contexts) to suggest that the process of colonisation that has occurred in the world over the last 500 years or so has had a major impact on people, particularly males. This phenomenon, as it relates to violence, has been highlighted in literature from South Africa, as well as other previously and currently colonised contexts (for example, Ahmed, Seedat, van Niekerk and Bulbulia, 2004; Clarke, 1996; Duran, 2006; Duran and Duran, 1995; Jewkes et al., 2002; King, 1997; Schiele, 1998; Seedat, 2006; Stevens et al., 2003; Sullivan and Brems, 1997). The concept of historical trauma has been developed by Duran and Duran (1995) to refer to the experiences of people in colonised contexts. These authors have developed a ‘hybrid’ approach to psychological and public health practice, focusing particularly on the phenomenon of historical trauma in the Native American context. They argue that it is important to understand the colonial history, particularly the ‘colonisation of the life world’ of Native Americans, and the severe spiritual and psychological injury (the soul wound) and intergenerational trauma that has occurred as a result. ‘The notion of soul wound is one which is at the core of much of the suffering that

Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed... 365 indigenous peoples have undergone for several centuries’ (Duran and Duran, 1995: 24). This concept is directly linked to the process of internalised oppression, which refers to internalised despair and a sense of helplessness and self-hatred. This is related to intergenerational posttraumatic stress disorder, where the oppressor has been integrated and interwoven into the fabric of the family. This results in various forms of self-abuse and other forms of abuse, where shame and rage are turned against themselves and others. Integrated healing responses to historical trauma developed by Duran and Duran and others include various strategies aimed at helping people to reflect on their internalised oppression; providing ceremonial space to grieve for the many losses relating to issues such as death, self-esteem and land; and reclaiming cultural practices and values, particularly for the purposes of developing positive identity and self-esteem. In the South African context, a number of authors have contended that there is a relationship between historical conditions in that country and the levels of violence apparent in contemporary society. Ahmed et al. (2004: 4) have argued that: ‘Oppression and the ensuing consequences like poverty and socioeconomic inequality place disadvantaged communities at a greater risk for a range of health problems, including violence and injury.’ Seedat (2006) maintains that When physical survival leads to psycho-emotive dissonance and a dehumanising reality that locks the occupied and colonised in oppressive scripts restricting their space, time, energy, mobility, and identity..., violence, as the last option, is seen as a liberatory force bringing relief from the fear of physical death and psychological disequilibrium...

Stevens et al. (2003: 354) claim that ‘Despite the eventual formation of a ‘non-racial’ democracy in 1994 and the dismantling of the apartheid state apparatus, the social and psychological effects of prolonged repression and counter-violence also became readily apparent, even in post-apartheid South Africa...’ In the US context, Clarke (1996: 46), referring specifically to blackon-black violence, argues that this form of violence has its roots in the American South’s experience and system of criminal justice that took place during slavery in the latter half of the nineteenth century. The nineteenth century criminal justice system granted immunity for crimes committed against black victims, condoned or encouraged BOBV [black-on-black violence], and contributed to the disruption, disunity, and hence rising crime rates within the black community. Against this backdrop, rising overcrowdedness in cities, inadequate living conditions, and availability of handguns contributed to an increase in BOBV in the early twentieth century. Of course, recent urban

366 Swaraj and the Reluctant State renewal programmes and black migration to the North and West have exacerbated this problem. King’s (1997) study focused on understanding violence among young African American males from an Afrocentric perspective. Violence was therefore examined from the historical, cultural and social vantage point of African American community. The author discusses the violent history of American society and the impact of racial discrimination and poverty on African American males. Schiele (1998: 165) also focuses on African American male youths and violent crime. Schiele uses a cultural alignment framework, To examine the role both cultural oppression and cultural alienation play in the lives of African American male youths. The framework assumes that African American male youth violence is a function of these males’ internalisation of alien concepts of manhood that reflect the impositions of European American culture and the nefarious legacy of slavery.

Lastly, Sullivan and Brems (1997: 411) refer to the psychological repercussions of the socio-cultural oppression of Alaska Native peoples. These authors refer to their socio-political history: ‘This history demonstrates how intervention by European Americans in Alaska has prompted a self-alienation of Native peoples that has contributed to ... high rates of interpersonal violence.’ The work referred to earlier offers an important perspective on the theoretical approach to intergenerational social learning to understanding violence in general, and male interpersonal violence more specifically. It constitutes a view of social learning theory through a ‘critical’ lens. It also presents an extension or transformation of social learning theory and the intergenerational transmission or cycling of violence phenomenon in particular, locating contemporary family dynamics within a historical social context, with a particular focus on issues of power and oppression within countries that have experienced generations of colonisation of one sort or another. The inclusion of this thrust in a conceptual framework has implications for analyses of risks and protective factors in male interpersonal violence, and for any violence prevention programmes developed. It lends itself to ‘linking’ the four ecological levels in a dynamic way, highlighting: the impact of social contexts on individuals and relationships over time and place; the possibility of breaking through the cycles of violence through liberatory strategies aimed at deconstructing socio-economic and political ideologies relating to the past and present, and asserting human rights; and the ongoing need for community and social programmes that focus on ‘healing the soul wound’ (Duran and Duran, 1995).

Towards the Development of a Responsive, Social Science-informed... 367 Conclusion Emerging out of a larger study whose main focus was to identify the risk and protective factors in male interpersonal violence, based on analysis of local and global empirical and theoretical literature, this chapter was intended to develop a conceptual foundation for understanding and preventing male interpersonal violence in South Africa within the context of responsive local manifestation and dynamics of male violence, informed by both public health and social science perspectives. It is clear that violence is a serious problem locally and globally. It is also clear from a review of the literature that there is the need for theoretically sound, locally grounded and better-integrated understandings of male interpersonal violence and violence generally. From the discussion of the public health framework earlier, it is argued that it can be utilised as a basis for structural logic to ensure that research in the form of description, analysis and theorising is translated into conscious forms of evidence-led and evaluated social action. This adapted framework represents a matrix to engage with violence prevention work, and simultaneously accommodates theoretical diversity, methodological pluralism, interdisciplinarity and varied scientific philosophies. It also allows for evidence-led interventions to be structured across micro, meso and macro-levels, with universal, targeted and specified populations and environments. However, it is important to note that this adapted matrix is not underpinned by a generic scientific neutrality that automatically accommodates diverse philosophical foundations of science, but rather it allows for the conscious coexistence of varying ontologies, epistemologies and methodologies in the prevention of violence. This is important to emphasise, given the erroneous belief that the public health model is in and of itself an all-encompassing and scientifically neutral framework to accommodate a range of diverse perspectives. The key element in this process is therefore the conscious introduction of alternative and complementary perspectives of science and their application to the resolution of violence as an obstacle to health, psychosocial well-being and social development. Given public health’s multidisciplinary orientation, other concepts and perspectives such as income inequality, social learning, history, religion, sexuality, gender, masculinity, race, ethnicity and culture may be introduced to understand the whys of male violence. Similarly, those interested in uncovering the discourses underlying our social constructions of violence may introduce critical theory to conduct an archival and historical analysis with a view to producing alternative explanations for violence. Likewise, researchers focusing on race or ethnicity may place the accent on racialised patterns of socio-political,

368 Swaraj and the Reluctant State economic and geographical exclusion in their explanations for violence and associated prevention measures. In general then, the conceptual groundwork we have laid allows us to take a multidisciplinary, socio-culturally grounded view as to the causes of violence, including all of the discipline-specific and paradigmatic approaches referred to earlier. We have exemplified how this can be done by looking at the idea of social learning in relation to historical trauma. At a theoretical level, contextual social analyses complement more technical analyses of specific determinants, risks and triggers prior to, during and after violent events. What we have attempted to do is show that violence can be addressed at a macro-level as well as at the levels of individuals, families and communities. This allows for the possibility of moving beyond the restrictive definitions of violence that are situation and event specific, to include political and ideological components that help to contextualise this phenomenon (Bulhan, 1985). This form of interdisciplinarity is not only desirable, but imperative to comprehensively understand the complex underpinnings of violence that are located within the subjective, cultural, ideological, material and historical realms that help to constitute social realities. REFERENCES Abrahams, N., Jewkes, R., Hoffman, M. and Laubscher, R. (2004). Sexual violence against intimate partners in Cape Town: Prevalence and risk factors reported by men. Bulletin of the World Health Organisation, 82 (5): 330–37. Abrahams, N., Jewkes, R., Laubscher, R. and Hoffman, M. (2006). Intimate partner violence: Prevalence and risk factors for men in Cape Town, South Africa. Violence and Victims, 21 (2): 247–64. Ahmed, R., Seedat, M., van Niekerk, A. and Bulbulia, S. (2004). Towards discerning community resiliency: An exploratory investigation. South African Journal of Psychology, 34 (3): 386–408. Almgren, G. (2005). The ecological context of interpersonal violence: From culture to collective efficacy. Journal of Interpersonal Violence, (20)2: 218–24. Altbeker, A. (2006). ‘Why is crime in South Africa so uniquely violent?’ Harold Wolpe Memorial Trust’s 55th Open Dialogue, November 30, 2006, Cape Town. Paper and transcript of discussion. ———, (2007). A country at war with itself: South Africa’s crisis of crime. Jeppestown: Jonathan Ball Publishers. Avakame, E.F. (1998). Intergenerational transmission of violence, self-control, and conjugal violence: A comparative analysis of physical violence and psychological aggression. Violence and Victims, 13 (3): 301–16. Barker, G. and Ricardo, C. (2005). Young men and the construction of masculinity in sub-Saharan Africa: Implications for HIV/AIDS, conflict,

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19 Why the Wretched Kill in Democratic South Africa: Reflections on Rejuvenation and Reconstruction* Mohamed Seedat, Umesh Bawa and Kopano Ratele The examination of Hind Swaraj and its relevance to contemporary society— especially as it may relate to the issues of socio-economic, justice, citizenship, equality, and peace-calls for a critical understanding of violence and its myriad manifestations, determinants, and prevention. Globally, violence, which continues to mark interpersonal, communal, national, and inter-national relationships, presents deleterious consequences for human, economic, and social development. Violence locks perpetrators and victims into limited forms of interaction and thus restricts the creative potentials of humanity everywhere. Violence presents many complex challenges to the quest for a socially just, inclusive and compassionate world order (see Krug et al., 2002). In this chapter we focus on xenophobic violence in South Africa. The horrific scenes of xenophobia witnessed in South Africa in 2008 offer a window through which we may critically view the country’s claims to democratic modernity and progress with respect to guarantees enshrined in the constitution as they relate to socio-economic justice, moral rejuvenation, and critical and compassionate citizenship.1 Our examination of the explanations of xenophobia allows us to reflect on universal issues pertinent to human development and associated challenges that are inherent to the articulation of Hind Swaraj. Xenophobic Violence in South Africa: Context and Responses In May 2008, violence targeting foreign nationals primarily resulted in an estimated 69 deaths, thousands of displaced people, and untold psychosocial trauma. The incidents in 2008 assumed organised and spectacular proportions even though xenophobic violence may be traced back to 1994, the year of South Africa’s democratic birth. Since then, * Earlier published in Social Change, Vol. 40, No. 1, March 2010.

Why the Wretched Kill in Democratic South Africa 375 foreigners from other African countries have been subjected regularly to xenophobic sentiments and violence in various parts of the country, including areas in and around Johannesburg, Cape Town, and the Southern Cape city of Knysna (Monson and Misago, 2009). These cities are held up as embodiments of diversity and tolerance (Ibid.). Repeated media images depicting gangs of angry young men armed with sticks setting non-nationals alight and looting and burning homes and shops (belonging to non-nationals) conveyed the horrors of violence reminiscent of the internecine and state engineered violence of the apartheid era. The horrendous nature, magnitude, and seemingly organised nature of the xenophobic violence generated humanitarian relief responses as well as major public anxiety, shock, disbelief and consternation among all sectors of South African society about the state of the country and its democratic ideals (Butler, 2008; Friedman, 2008; Makatile, 2008). As the xenophobic violence spread across different regions of the country, the global gaze panned on to South Africa, which tended to be celebrated for its ‘miraculous’ transition to democracy and was highly regarded for producing an iconic, visionary, compassionate and reconciliatory leader, Nelson Mandela. Up till that spectacular moment of violence, South Africa tended to be held up as an exception in a continent type-cast as the ‘dark continent’, characterised as one of war, internecine conflict, poor governance, and poverty. The claims of South African exceptionalism have a long history, but more recently have been supported by the discourse of a peaceful transition from apartheid to a democratic modernity. These claims and the larger discourse of a peaceful country arise mainly from South Africa’s constitutional democratic foundations, which are in turn based upon the most liberal international principles of human rights and justice, assertions of unity in diversity, and its self-defined role as the champion of a renewed African Renaissance (Posel, 2002). The preamble to the South African Constitution (1996) envisioned a new society based on the doctrine of democracy and the ideals of human rights, justice, equality, freedom, unity in diversity, and reconciliation (Waghid, 2004). In contrast to the apartheid state which created an absurd number of ethno-racialised homelands and residential areas for different groups, the new political leaders conceived of the new Republic as ‘one, sovereign, democratic state founded on’, amongst others, the values of ‘human dignity, the achievement of equality and the advancement of human rights and freedoms; non-racialism and non-sexism; supremacy of the constitution and the rule of law’ (Republic of South Africa, 1996: 1243). The new society was supposed to dismantle the legacy of colonialism and apartheid, which by their very nature were violent and produced

376 Swaraj and the Reluctant State antagonism, conflict, distrust, and hate between different sectors of society. The new society was to release all sectors of the population from the restrictions imposed on their time, energy, mobility, bonding, space, and identity (Bulhan, 1985) by the systems of colonialism and apartheid so as to give birth to citizens and a safe, peaceful, moral, and well-governed society: aspects which are vital for success in a global market economy (Waghid, 2004). The new society was to commit its resources, systems, and people towards a ‘better life for all’. The May 2008 xenophobic violence occurred within a context of a country committed to, at least rhetorically, particular regenerative ideals and a quest for a favourable global reputation. It is also a context characterised by historical and persistent patterns of violence. In 2000, HIV/AIDS, violence and unintentional injuries together represented the leading causes of all death and disability adjusted life years (DALYs) lost in South Africa (Norman et al., 2006). After unsafe sex, interpersonal violence has been indicated as the leading risk factor for loss of DALYs (Norman et al., 2007). South Africa, wherein the homicide rate is estimated to be more than seven times the global average, continues to be categorised among other high gun violence countries like the United States of America (USA), Mexico, Colombia, Estonia, and Brazil (Alpers, 2002; Krug et al., 1998; Krug et al., 2002). While males are disproportionately represented in violence, both as victims and perpetrators (Ratele, 2008), children and women are also among those most vulnerable to violence. In addition to exposure of women to intimate violence within families, annually about 55,000 rapes violating women and girls are reported to the police. These reported figures are estimated to be nine times lower than the actual number (South African Police Service, 2006; Jewkes & Abrahams, 2002). The exceedingly high levels of interpersonal violence are accompanied by increasing violent and non-violent public protests marking community concerns about service delivery and a range of social justice demands (Seedat et al., 2009). So, consequent to the xenophobic violence, the media, social commentators, researchers, and the larger public rightfully questioned the capacity and willingness of the government’s safety and security and criminal justice departments to act decisively and effectively against perpetrators of various forms of violence. Explaining Xenophobic Violence The acts of xenophobic violence have been attributed to a range of factors including criminality, a third force, right-wing elements, a persistent culture of violence, globalisation and the post-apartheid state’s failure to fulfil the social justice needs of the majority of South Africans (Butler, 2008; Friedman, 2008; Makatile, 2008; Mapiloko, 2008). Local leaders

Why the Wretched Kill in Democratic South Africa 377 and the police were also exposed for being under-equipped, reluctant, and unwilling to protect foreigners from violent attacks (Monson & Misago, 2009). Most eminent among these many explanations is the idea that xenophobic violence arises from the interplay of various socioeconomic variables. Poverty, inequality, joblessness, and the poor delivery of municipal services are among the many macro-level factors that converge to create the social conditions for public violence (Allan & Heese, 2008). The Municipal IQ, an index that is used to register municipal protests and evaluate contributory socio-economic factors within municipal wards where public protects occur, suggest that poverty as well as relative deprivation and/or perceived inequality breeds a sense of dissatisfaction among the alienated sections of society (Ibid.). The logic is that when the sections of the poor evaluate themselves against their relatively better off fellow residents, politicians, foreigners and others, they perceive deprivation and blame the government for failure to alleviate their condition. A deep sense of frustration ensues. Such frustration suggests that the pathway through which the social determinants of violence come to influence individual and group decisions results in acts of violent aggression. This frustration, the psychological driver, gains substance and form when an event or series of events—whether real or imagined—produce the tipping point (Ibid.). Commentators contended that escalating costs of food, the influx of thousands of immigrants, particularly Zimbabweans, into underresourced communities strained by the consequences of underdevelopment and the corrosive perception of foreigners as people who steal South African ‘jobs, houses and women’ served as the trigger for the public violence that assumed a xenophobic character (Molefe, 2008). Some politicians, including cabinet ministers, suggested criminals, a third force or right-wing populist movements as responsible for the violence. In contrast, the finance minister at the time, Trevor Manuel, explained that public violence was a consequence of underdevelopment (Dawes, 2008; Webb, 2008). The minister reasoned that under conditions of struggle for survival, enterprising foreigners draw on family and extended social systems and try to be frugal and offer their services and products at lowered prices. ‘In an environment where there are high levels of vulnerability, people lean on one another through family, clan, village, language group [and] nation...’ (Dawes, 2008: 17). However, such survival strategies earn foreigners the anger of nationals who perceive them as undercutting the limited social justice gains in post-apartheid South Africa. Under such circumstances, foreign nationals live under constant suspicion of locals and so are vulnerable as a group.

378 Swaraj and the Reluctant State The focus on social inequality and poverty resonates with other criticisms levelled against South Africa’s macro-economic policies. Despite South Africa’s commitment to a ‘better life for all’, the redistributive focus contained in the Reconstruction and Development Program (RDP) (Miraftab, 2006) was replaced by market-oriented macro-economic policies in the form of Growth, Employment and Redistribution (GEAR) that adopted tariff reductions, free trade regimes, and limited state intervention under the Mbeki Presidency (Ibid.). Such measures, regarded as fundamentals of economic growth within a liberalised macro-economic framework, fail to redress substantially the apartheid-generated inequalities and disparities. Despite redistributive justice programs including legislation promoting employment equity, Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) initiatives, increases in social grants, and land redistribution, South Africa’s Gini coefficient of 65 places it among the most inequitable countries of the world (Miraftab, 2006; Swartz, 2006; Wood, 2006). These macro-economic policies, a subject of intense contestation and disgruntlement for many even under the current Jacob Zuma Presidency, continue to deny access to socioeconomic justice to the poor despite constitutional guarantees (Miraftab, 2006). While such explanations offer a degree of systemic understanding, they do not explain sufficiently why the ‘Wretched of the Earth’, the poor, downtrodden and oppressed as Frantz Fanon called the unenfranchised in French-occupied colonial Algeria, kill their own. A columnist to the ‘The Citizen’, a fairly conservative daily newspaper wryly and perhaps mischievously noted: It is a striking fact about the large scale massacres in Africa that you can find examples of whites against blacks (such as the Germans in South West Africa [Namibia] and the Belgians in the Congo), of blacks against blacks (such as in Burundi, Rwanda, Uganda, Nigeria, Zimbabwe, etc) but none of blacks against whites. The only killings of whites by blacks have been on a small scale. In the whole of the Mau-Mau uprising in Kenya 50 whites were killed. Robert Mugabe has killed tens of thousands of blacks, but only a handful of white farmers. Why is this? Why do Africans reserve their most furious hatred for each other? (Kenny, 2008: 13)

The CEO of South Africa’s National Heritage Council, Advocate Sonwabile Mancotywa, similarly wondered, ‘But if apartheid did not invoke black rage against whites, why should complaints of nondelivery justify brutal attacks against foreigners? Are their ‘sins’ really that unforgivable?’ (Ibid.: 12). Notwithstanding the exaggerated tone adopted by Andrew Kenny (2008) or the sincerity in Mancotywa’s (2008) probe, how do we begin to understand and theorise the violence among the ‘wretched of the

Why the Wretched Kill in Democratic South Africa 379 earth’, the dispossessed, the vulnerable and marginalised—who in the case of this chapter, are the alienated, poor and working classes of South Africa. This question is of import to disenfranchised groups across wartorn and post-conflict regions of the globe. Through a reading of the academic discourses that proliferated in the media at the time of the xenophobic violence, we discern two broad groups of explanations. The first is centred on the concepts of globalisation, citizenship and identity (Habib & Bentley, 2008; Manyathi, 2008; Mancotywa, 2008). They propose that contemporary globalisation has unleashed powerful yet reactive political energies towards constricted forms of religious, cultural, and racial nationalism (Habib & Bentley, 2008). At a nation-state level, nationalism may find resonance with specific constructions of citizenship. These constructions set forth qualifying criteria for citizenship. Thus one’s birth within a nation-state qualifies one for certain rights and privileges including franchise and access to basic amenities (Moncotywa, 2008). Whereas the Berlin Conference of 1884 re-configured the borders of Africa in the interest of European economic and political interests, this line of argument places the accent on the cosmopolitan nature of national identity which is dynamic and ‘begins from the assumption that human history is one of intermingling and integration, one of constant evolution and re-creation’ (Habib & Bentley, 2008: 9). The cosmopolitan conception of identity opposes the nation–states’ notions of citizenship that claim open borders may undermine national and cultural identity. The second explanation proposes that the violent attacks on foreigners are manifestations of a failure to internalise the spirit of solidarity and the democratic values espoused by the philosophy of Ubuntu—African humanism—and the Constitution. The violence as ‘acts of barbarism’ (Trengove-Jones, 2008: 11) were indicative of a failure to translate the constitutional values and ideas of Ubuntu and its spirit of a shared humanity—namely, I am because of others—into humane behaviours. The foundational values of Ubuntu and South Africa’s democratic Constitution have not found a collective internalisation so as to censure gruesome acts of cruelty and actively promote compassion and solidarity (Ibid.). Echoing this reasoning, others saw the violence as constituting negrophobia and as ‘a logical conclusion of our (South African) failure to both decolonise our minds and also socio-economic realities’ (Mngxitama, 2008: 26). Such articulations resonate with the idea that under conditions of colonialism, apartheid and neo-liberalism, the socalled ‘black-on-black’ violence is a expression of anti-black consciousness and self-hate among the disenfranchised majority. This resonates with the scholarly thoughts of Frantz Fanon (1968) who noted

380 Swaraj and the Reluctant State the increasing complicity and self-destructive behaviour of the poor in the colonial war against France in occupied Algeria. He asserted that in a situation of oppression, the dominant culture which has hegemonic control of all resources and opportunities for violent sanctions through force and the inculcation of conditions of fear, shepherds the oppressed and dominated to a limited range of options for the expression of their desires, frustrations, and need for autonomy. These are acquiescence, compromise, or confrontation. Since acquiescence and capitulation are encouraged as the ‘safest’ option in the dialectical social relations between the oppressor and the oppressed, the dominated are often immersed in self-negating and self-destructive behaviours among themselves. These are often violent manifestations of impotent rage directed at themselves in the form of suicide or at those closest at hand, their fellow poor. In the context of extreme competition for scarce resources and opportunities, Fanon’s (1968) ‘wretched of the earth’, are strained by the stressors of systematic disadvantage and so turn their aggression inwards against those who are in closest proximity to them, their loved ones, their neighbors, and themselves. So in the instance of xenophobia, foreigners are cast as the ‘other’, unworthy of the rights and opportunities that nationals are entitled to. This process of ‘othering’, and scapegoating is often utilised in situations of conflict and collective violence to make more palatable the explanations for one’s own inadequacy and inability to maintain one’s humanity (Bulhan, 1985). Deploying a psychoanalytic logic, this line of thought is extended to suggest that the violent aggression against foreigners is indicative of a lack of self-esteem and an expression of self-hate as well as a displacement of anger towards whites2, the former masters whose value systems continue to dominate public life. It is also seen as a mark of deep humiliation arising from a lack of recognition from the aloof ruling elite responsible for the management of the South African geo-political entity (More, 2008). These are the elite who deceive themselves into accepting the liberal notions of racial integration and economic organisation (More, 2008). The May 2008 xenophobic violence was an act of psychological mutilation; it was an act of despising the African identity, a displacement of anger felt towards whites and an act of denigrating and humiliating one’s own humanity and dignity. Such explanations may be read as an indictment of South Africa’s moral regeneration project. Moral regeneration is positioned as a major vehicle for citizenship alongside other instruments such as the: Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), Race and Values in Education (RVE) initiative, and philosophy of Ubuntu (Swartz, 2006). The moral regeneration initiative may be traced back to the African National

Why the Wretched Kill in Democratic South Africa 381 Congress’ (ANC) first term of government when democratic South Africa’s first President, Nelson Mandela, met with religious leaders in 1997. During the meeting, which was organised by the ANC’s Commission on Religious Affairs, Mandela highlighted the ‘spiritual malaise’ underlying post-apartheid life, marked by among other features, pessimism, hopelessness, greed, self-interest, corruption, and a very high crime rate (Rauch, 2005). For instance, a schools-based project designed to understand how parents, teachers and learners conceptualise and ‘talk about’ values, education, and democracy found that teachers placed the accent on the values of ‘discipline’ and ‘obedience’. Teachers felt that learners tended to be disrespectful and ill-disciplined and that parents did not possess commitment or an appreciation for the values of education. In contrast, learners experienced the school environment as disrespectful, discriminatory, and punitive. Parents also experienced the school as disrespectful and overly judgemental towards them and raised strong concerns about inequalities between schools (DOE, 2002, as cited in Waghid, 2004). The divergent responses brought notions of citizenship and nationhood under scrutiny. Nelson Mandela appealed to religious leaders to engage in what was formalised as a moral regeneration movement in 2002. The 1997 meeting produced a code of conduct committing signatories to ‘integrity, incorruptibility, good faith, impartiality, openness, accountability, justice, respect, generosity and leadership’ (Richardson, 2003: 7). In his opening address at the October 1998 Morals Summit, Nelson Mandela called for a spiritual rejuvenation to encourage ‘moral living and conduct by every citizen and all people in positions of responsibility’ (Mandela, October 22, 1998: 3). Mandela argued for moral regeneration, namely a mechanism to cultivate civic morality in communities. For Mandela, civic morality was integral to safety and security, the containment of HIV/AIDS, job creation, the campaign against corruption and the larger attempts to redress social inequalities and deprivation (Mandela, 1998). Following this early spiritualised and religious conceptualisation, the moral regeneration project was also informed by the countries’ secular constitutional values, the philosophy of Ubuntu and African nationalist sentiments articulated by ANC leaders like Thabo Mbeki. Thus, the initiative as a movement incorporates various stakeholder groups like politicians, diverse religious groups, civil society institutions, business communities, academics, and government (Rauch, 2005). Moral regeneration itself has been formulated as an integral feature of crime prevention and the overall project of nation building (Ibid.). In 2005 a draft charter of positive values presented eight core values for a peaceful

382 Swaraj and the Reluctant State South Africa: respect for human dignity and equality, freedom, adherence to the rule of law and democracy, economic justice, promotion of family and community values, loyalty, integrity and honesty, harmony in culture, belief and conscience, respect and concern for all people, justice, fairness and peaceful co-existence (Swartz, 2006; Moral Regeneration Movement, 2005). These values find resonance with the vision implied by Hind Swaraj and the philosophy of Ubuntu, an African articulation and orientation to humanism. Ubuntu strives to create compassionate communities, characterised by collective responsibilities, mutually dependent relationships and the treatment of others as if they were family (Broodryk, 1997 cited in Swartz, 2006). As such Ubuntu is a spiritualised and moralised code of conduct that has enjoyed prominence in government, business and development sector plans. In particular the Ubuntu-derived values of tolerance, harmony and respect are—once internalised—regarded as important for promoting reconciliation, non-racialism, antisexism, and cultural plurality and diversity (Swartz, 2006), ideals that resonate with contemporary understandings of Hind Swaraj. Informed by these values, the Moral Regeneration Movement (MRM) constructed itself as a bottom-up initiative recognising that moral reform is best achieved if it is embedded within existing structures and driven by citizens in their everyday activities (Richardson, 2003). Despite these lofty values, in great part informed by the African philosophy of Ubuntu, the May 2008 xenophobic violence raises questions about the extent that the MRM project has been internalised by citisens, leaders and public officials alike. The MRM has also been criticized for conflating the role of religion and state in the promoting of morality and being in danger of masking the socio-political causes of moral decline. An accent on morality and the qualities required of citizens has the potential of obscuring structurally induced injustices (Swartz, 2006). In response to the criticism that the MRM conflates the role of religion and state in the propagation of morality, Swartz (2006) counters that morality is informed by many sources: human rights charters, the law, and personal and cultural beliefs. Even though religions are significant in creating moral communities, such a contribution is not the exclusive preview of the religious sector. Despite the MRM’s recognition of the community embedded nature of morality, Richardson (2003) writing some five years ago, suggested that the MRM did not sufficiently consider that ‘Moral transformation and practice require the teaching, training and encouragement that only a moral community can provide’ (Ibid. : 10). The MRM is yet to resolve how it creates, finds and supports moral communities in a multireligious society governed by a secular constitution. The MRM has not

Why the Wretched Kill in Democratic South Africa 383 grasped the complexities involved in moral rejuvenation which goes beyond the subscription to a code of conduct or set of values and declarations. Can faith and secular communities work together with their differing life-philosophies and belief systems to make moral communities that work to remove the moral decay issued by colonialism and apartheid and foster an internalised morality for democratic citizenship? (Ibid.). How are We to Eliminate Xenophobia and Approach Transformation? Trengove-Jones (2008) suggests that an ‘internal psychology of commitment’ is required to elevate South Africa closer towards humanism envisioned by the philosophy of Ubuntu and the South African constitution. Such articulations in post-apartheid South Africa resonate with the work of Bulhan (1985), the Somalian psychologist, who extended on Fanon’s (1968) ideas, to propose that any attempt at a socially conscious and lasting change in an individual or a society is only possible if both the enemy ‘within and without’ are confronted. Any attempts to bring about social change must confront, challenge and ultimately overcome the internalised representations of the oppressor (Bulhan, 1985) and recognise that political and revolutionary destruction of colonialism and the emancipation of all classes from social oppression cannot automatically liberate human communities instantaneously from the psychological influences of oppression (FoxGenovese & Genovese, 1980). This ‘personal liberation’ from the vicissitudes of the oppressor is what a Sierra Leonean child soldier called freedom from the ‘apartheid of the heart’ (Personal Communication, Lamin Konteh, May 2004). So the explication of a ‘psychology of commitment’ or better still, a psychology of democratic reconstruction must consider the intricacies of psychological powerlessness and dispossession and how neo-liberal policies, founded on the idea of accumulation and extreme individualism, militate against bonds of solidarity and compassion (Manyathi, 2008). A critical reading of the forgoing explanations of xenophobia and call for an ‘internal psychology of commitment’ imply that peace, tolerance and safety in young democracies such as South Africa are contingent on a democratically informed constitution, economic and social equity as well as the characteristics and outlook of its citizens (Waghid, 2004: 527). Young democracies in particular, aiming to obtain social stability and redress, are dependent on citizens who are prepared to participate in economic and political processes, show restraint and personal responsibility in their choices, especially when faced with hardships and social constraints (Waghid, 2004), and value differences

384 Swaraj and the Reluctant State and plurality. Such citizens are to work to triumph over narrow notions of ethnic, national, religious, and geographical identities (see Ibid.). The new South Africa is in need of a citizenry that can transcend the legacy of bigotry, hate, selfishness, ethnicised compassion and racialised accumulation so as to exemplify the virtues of kindness, forgiveness, and community mindedness; citizens must possess what Galtson (1991) and Macedo (1990) (cited in Waghid, 2004: 528) call ‘civic virtue’ and ‘public spiritedness’. Civic mindedness is necessary to mend the cumulative impact of apartheid generated disadvantages; the ethos of materialism reflected in the acquisitive and accumulative behaviours of sections of the ruling elite and the new middle class; and the proclivity among sectors of the beneficiaries of apartheid who continue to maintain economic advantage, deny social realities and reject distributive justice. Civic mindedness is critical to understand the demand of the poor for food, shelter, self-respect and the right to safety. Civic mindedness is vital to recognise and accept that neither poverty nor bloated affluence can be justifications for the inhumane treatment and death of others. Drawing on the ideas of several scholars (see Waghid 2004) suggest that the values embedded in the South African constitution foster a liberal-communitarian conceptualisation of citizenship that is consistent with the need to promote civic mindedness. The liberal-communitarian notion of citizenship stresses a body of rights and obligations that are to be extended equally to all citizens, the rule of law, regard for others rights, socio-economic justice, respectful dialogue, active engagement in public affairs, and unity in diversity. Within such a conceptualisation public participation and dialogue require citizens to understand and appreciate both supportive and opposing views (Ibid.: 534), possess the capacity for self-reflexivity and introspection and to think critically and live peacefully in a community. Such qualities and capacities can help produce an affirmation of humanity, respect for diversity, and an imagination to appreciate the others and the other’s lives and tolerate difference and adapt to change (Nussbaum, 2002, cited in Waghid, 2004). Liberal-communitarian values of citizenship foster competencies for critical thinking, dialogue, and relationship building—essential for reconciliation and nation building (Waghid, 2004). However, we concur with Waghid (2004) that it is a deep sense of compassion and the associated qualities of generosity and empathy (see Seedat, 2006) that engender sensitivity for the suffering of others and a readiness to share one’s wealth or limited resources. While the constitution and values contained in the Bill of Rights create the framework for citizens to act democratically, justly, fairly, non-discriminatively and respectfully, compassion can help citizens transcend narrow self-interest and survival

Why the Wretched Kill in Democratic South Africa 385 instincts. Compassion enables citizens to be constantly mindful of suffering and to act kindly and generously and in solidarity to end human suffering (Waghid, 2004). Our case for compassionate citizenship is not to be read as support for homogenising expressions of citizenship and psychologising transformation. So we think it worthwhile to re-stress two points. First, since the legacy of colonialism and apartheid impacts on the personal, interpersonal, intellectual and affective levels, political transformation and psychosocial transformation must be supported by institutions of accountability and sound governance. Secondly, transformation is to be approached in a holistic manner rather than as binaries. Drawing on the work of Cornwall (2002) (cited in Miraftab, 2006) on ‘invited spaces of citizenship’ and a critical review of the Cape Town based AntiEviction Campaign that is focused on challenging evictions from homes and service disconnections, Miraftab (2006) cautions against delegitimising certain forms of citizenship that are revealed in created spaces. Whereas community actions in invited spaces tend to be legitimated by donors, governments, and university interventions, invented spaces are characterised by the collective actions of the poor that contest officialdom, government protocols and resist hegemonic establishment. Miraftab (2006) argues against constructing these two spaces as binary opposites. They should be viewed as mutually interacting, recognising that citizens’ actions within invited spaces tend to help with coping and adjusting to the system of disadvantage and exploitation. In contrast, actions within the invented spaces are marked by contest, criticality, and resistance to the dominant ruling order. Within this logic Miraftab (2006) goes on to argue that despite South Africa’s pro-poor constitution, which supports the creation of invited spaces, community agency exercised in invented spaces is vital for distributive justice. These articulations counter the suggestion that citizenship and community participation may only occur in the realm of formal politics dominated by state officials, councillors and often NGO and university-based practitioners. Community actions move between invited and invented spaces, depending on the issues and context and so Miraftab (2006) cautions against assuming a bifurcated conception of citizenship: ‘authentic’ civil society that engages within invited spaces legitimated by state and development bodies and ‘inauthentic’ civil society sometimes labelled as extremists and ultraleftists for working within ‘invented’ spaces (Miraftab, 2006: 208). Conclusions Despite its regenerative agenda, following the history of colonialism and apartheid patriarchy and capitalism, South Africa has failed to

386 Swaraj and the Reluctant State control and prevent death and the many gruesome mechanisms of dying driven by violence as well as the HIV/AIDs pandemic (see Posel, 2002). In this article, we attempted to show that the social commentaries and responses focused on deaths and displacements arising from xenophobic violence gain particular import when considered within a South Africa that positions itself as a democratic modernity and the context of persistent and high levels of interpersonal violence. Our enquiry involved a critical review of a selection of newspaper feature articles and public statements by social commentators including journalists, political leaders and civil society representatives. These news articles and statements are illustrative of the explanations of xenophobic violence that we aimed to bring under scrutiny. Some of the explanations that have partial roots into anti-colonial theory and scholarship, fixed on understanding the reality and the lifeworlds of the colonised, allow us to understand the challenges related to achieving social justice, moral rejuvenation and critical and compassionate citizenship. After the attempt to make sense of heinous acts of xenophobic violence that challenge our assumptions of Ubuntu and notions of moral rejuvenation articulated by nationalist leaders like Thabo Mbeki, we discussed the concept of transformation and made a call for the promotion of critical and compassionate citizenship that may be exercised in both invited and invented spaces. Our hope is that the socio-political analysis we offer will take us further along the path of gaining insights for strengthening the bonds of solidarity and compassion among the struggling sections of humanity across the globe. NOTES 1. We borrow the term ‘compassionate citizenship’ from Yusef Waghid (2004) and build on his articulations of citizenship. 2. Use of racial terms such as ‘black and white’ does not imply an acceptance of apartheid-generated racial terminology.

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20 Childhood Burn Injury: A Matter for Hind Swaraj?* Ashley van Niekerk

Childhood Burns Child burns are amongst the most traumatic of injuries. Burns may cause death or injury, but also disabling scars, not only to the skin or the body of the child, but also to her or his psyche. These injuries may impose significant psychological, educational, social, and future occupational impairments to the young child. Burn injuries also have an effect on the families of the affected children; with potentially profound and longterm social and economic consequences (Barss et al., 1998; van Niekerk et al., 2004b). The consequent adjustments for the affected individual may be exacerbated by a range of factors, including the circumstances, severity and site (s) of the injury, the qualities of the child’s personality, and the access to supportive social relationships (Rode et al., 1989). Burns and their predisposing factors have been studied intensely in high income countries (HICs), contributing to a reduction in such injuries, largely through interventions and legislation to reduce risk exposure (Forjuoh, 2006). However, these injuries remain a significant public health concern in many low and medium income countries (LMICs), where research and interventions to control exposure is lacking. The South African situation echoes that described for other LMICs (Albertyn et al., 2006; van Niekerk, 2006). In LMICs, child injury problems in general are typically aggravated by the lack or unavailability of specialised intervention policies, staff and technologies (Barss et al., 1998; WHO, 2006). In recent years, there has been an increase in the attention directed at the epidemiology of childhood injuries in South Africa (van Niekerk, 2006; van Niekerk et al., 2004a) and further afield across the LMICs on the African continent (for example, in Ghana, * Earlier published in Social Change, Vol. 40, No. 1, November 2010.

390 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Nigeria, Egypt, Morocco, and Ethiopia), and elsewhere (Albertyn et al., 2006; Forjuoh, 2006). These recent studies have linked a number of factors to the occurrence of burns amongst children. These include, amongst others, the child’s age and gender, family circumstances, and poor living conditions. There are more detailed accounts of the contribution of specific aspects of the physical and social environment, such as the use of low-cost appliances and fuels for heating and cooking, and living circumstances, such as overcrowding. South Africa, despite its democratic transformation, the strength of its emerging economy, and the widespread structural and social policy changes since 1994, continues to be challenged by the extent of social and health problems, one of which is burn injury (Policy Coordination and Advisory Services, 2003). Hind Swaraj and Burns? Despite the considerable body of Gandhian scholarship, there is relatively little that intersects with the violent injury prevention literature (Ahmed, Ratele and Bawa, 2009), and there is an absence of consideration of the rest of the injury prevention sector, i.e., that includes injuries such as those due to burns. Some of Gandhi’s key ideas are described in his seminal text, Hind Swaraj or Indian Home Rule (Bose, 1981; Gandhi, 2003), in particular the concept of Satyagraha, where this refers to, first, a process of developing an understanding of a social situation, and second, as a positive strategy for social development (Mayton, 2001). Hind Swaraj provides an accent on freedom, social justice and development with Gandhi’s overarching philosophy rooted in Sarvodaya or the ‘welfare of all’ (Bose, 1981; Bose, 1987: 23, cited in Mayton, 2001). This article asserts that injuries compromise the goals of selfdetermination, freedom, and social justice. They absorb the individual and social resources that could be directed towards the self, family, and community development. In particular, burn injuries are reflective of South African (van Niekerk et al., 2004a; van Niekerk et al., 2006) and global disparities, and mirror the larger disparities between and within countries, with the wealthier countries reporting significantly lower rates than poorer countries. This pattern of disparity is repeated within wealthier countries, where poorer marginalised communities and families report higher rates of injury, as a result of greater exposure to hazards (Laflamme et al., 2009). This is similarly the case for the gendered distribution of burns that globally reflect dominant forms of male-female relationships, however, with exceptions, as in Africa, where boy children report consistently higher rates (van Niekerk, 2007; World Health Organisation, 2006).

Childhood Burn Injury: A Matter for Hind Swaraj? 391 The focus on burns may seem unusual to any analysis on Hind Swaraj. This article, via its utilisation of empirical data, proposes that burns and more broadly injury, should be considered as a developmental issue as much as a public health one. Furthermore, when one considers the specific burn and injury prevention interventions that have been recommended, one detects some confirmation that a burn, as a profoundly classed and gendered matter, is a contemporary Hind Swaraj issue. The related dimensions of self determination must consider the objective dimensions and subjective experiences of safety, which this article argues need to be a more integral part of our conceptualisation of self determination and justice. This article describes burns as a barometer of the social inequalities, due to class or gender, and although the issue is not explicitly located within the Hind Swaraj scholarship, the occurrence of burns provides an opportunity to investigate the profound impact of social obstacles to individual, familial, and even community safety. This article outlines the case for childhood burns, as a manifestation of what is also often termed ‘accidental injury’, to thus be described within Hind Swaraj terms. It describes the interactions between the contextual, environmental and individual contributors to childhood burn injuries in South Africa. The article highlights the centrality of these factors to understanding the selective occurrence of burns, and also the formulation of burn prevention and control measures. The article concludes with recommendations for burn prevention. South African Contextual Barriers Poverty The impact of poverty is disastrous for children (Evans, 2004; Jacobs, 2005). In South Africa, unemployment is reported as a crucial barrier to the development of all South Africans, with up to 24.9 percent of the economically active population unemployed in 2009 (Statistics South Africa, 2009). The Human Development Report (2005) furthermore has indicated that the Gini coefficient for South Africa was 57.8 percent in 2003—amongst the highest in the world. Statistics for 2004 show 11,905,147 children live in poverty in South Africa (Jacobs, 2005). More than 66 percent of children were living in poverty, while 4.5 million children live in overcrowded houses and approximately 2 million live in informal dwellings and backyard shacks. The majority of these children are of African and to a lesser extent, mixed ancestry (Leatt and Berry, 2005; Jacobs, 2005), also with significantly higher rates of burn injury amongst these groups, as compared to white children (van Niekerk et al., 2004a). Despite the country’s social transformation, its current stability and its relative

392 Swaraj and the Reluctant State wealth, the African group continues to report lower income levels, literacy rates, and overall health status, and higher levels of household crowding, with widening intra–group economic differences (Day and Gray, 2003; Statistics South Africa, 2003). In turn, the international public health literature has established that low socio-economic status of the family (Delgado et al., 2002; Petridou et al., 1998), low educational level of the mother (Daisy et al., 2001), and psychosocial stress in the family (Werneck and Reichenheim, 1997) are all linked to greater occurrence of childhood burns. The harmful impact of impoverished settings on children is the result of an accumulation of physical and psychosocial conditions, many of which typically co-vary and rarely act in isolation (Evans, 2004), with many that have been specifically linked to burns. These include: residence in an informal settlement (Sustainable Energy Africa, 2003), particular aspects of the informal dwelling structure (Delgado et al., 2002), such as the lack of demarcations of cooking or washing areas (Delgado et al., 2002; Petridou et al., 1998), and the storage and use of paraffin or kerosene (Hudson, Rode and Bloch, 1994; Kalayi and Muhammad, 1996), all of which have indicated varying degrees of impact on childhood burn or other injury outcomes. Home Design and Spatial Constraints The impoverished home has, in addition, particular constrictive design and spatial features that require consideration (van Niekerk, 2007). Restricted home spaces augment a child’s proximity and exposure to domestic equipment and heat sources, and this is often exacerbated by sudden and unexpected changes to household or childcare routines. The impact of the internal spatial arrangements of low-income homes is a neglected research area in the public health arena, but one identified as an area of concern in South Africa (Seedat et al., 2006). The physical spaces where burn injuries usually occur are typically in homes that comprise one or two rooms, with further temporary internal divisions made of curtains or tall boards. These rooms are utilised for various functions, depending on the times of day and the families’ particular requirements for sleeping, washing, cooking activities, meal-times (Ibid.), and in this and other contexts as a working space (Kellet and Tipple, 2000). In such living spaces the child has nearly permanent access to thermal equipment (Godwin et al., 1996), with home appliances such as kerosene stoves (Kalayi and Muhammad, 1994) and hot water cylinders with excessive water temperatures (Katcher, 1987). Despite the prioritisation of electrification in South Africa, low-income families continue to rely on kerosene, coal or wood-fired stoves for cooking and heating tasks, and low quality hot water cylinders, because of the current

Childhood Burn Injury: A Matter for Hind Swaraj? 393 and massively rising cost of electricity and safe essential electrical appliances (Sustainable Energy Africa, 2003). Constricted Familial Capacities, Responsibilities and Priorities Burn injuries amongst infants and toddlers have long been a concern for the public health sector, accounting for a significant part of all childhood burns (van Niekerk, 2007). This particular concentration of burns is attributed to the child’s limited physical and cognitive capacities, its dependence on its caretakers, and the role of the environment, or various interactions between these (Barss et al., 1998; van Niekerk, 2007). South African research has indicated that burn events tend to occur in the context of domestic or economic burdens (van Niekerk et al., 2007; van Niekerk, 2007), where the necessary social tasks, including chores, child care, unexpected events and crises, and work undermine the caregiver’s ability to protect the child in hazardous home environments. The pressures within low income homes are such that there can be little surprise that these injury events occurred, with caregivers’ psychological, familial and neighborhood resources tested in both the daily living struggles and the greater number and quality of crises that they face (van Niekerk, 2007). Socialisation and Roles of Children Irrespective of context though, age, and to a lesser extent gender, have provided consistent indications of children’s vulnerability to burn injury (van Niekerk, 2006). In South Africa, as in most other contexts, there is for children a concentration of burn injuries in the first three years of life, thereafter followed by a progressive decline in incidence (van Niekerk, 2007). In South Africa as for many other Africa settings, male children are associated with an overall excess risk to burn injuries compared to girls (Forjuoh and Gielen, 2008), although these gender differences tend to decrease after toddlerhood, but emerge again with the older school-going children. Elsewhere, particularly in India and parts of South East Asia, it is females that are at higher risk. This is reportedly due to their involvement in domestic activities near open flames and because of clothing styles (Davies, 1990; Forjuoh, Guyer and Smith, 1995). The early effect of differential socialisation requires further consideration; some studies indicate that parents are less likely to restrain the exploratory behaviour of boys even if the child’s behaviour is judged to pose an injury risk (Morrongiello and Rennie, 1998). In South Africa, older boys gather firewood and light the fires for morning and evening meals (van Niekerk et al., 2004a). The widening social network of older boys may also expose them to the risks posed by the open fires (and related hot

394 Swaraj and the Reluctant State objects) initiated for heating, cooking, or other purposes, with older children involved because of their greater capacity for starting fires, and managing heating appliances and heated appliances or utensils. Towards Prevention and Greater Safety for All The prominence of injuries such as burns is of national and international concern. In low-income settings, children are reported to be at a significantly greater risk of being injured than children located in families and communities with greater financial resources. Injury is a central threat to the safety of South African children living in poverty. As a considerable proportion of South Africa’s poor are children, this article calls for the prioritisation of research and preventative safety promotion interventions that target related injury hazards. The particular vulnerability of children to burn injuries reflects on the hazardous environments peculiar to many low-income settlements. Settings where children spend a considerable proportion of their day need to be targeted for development. Childhood burns primarily occur in the home, thus the home is a key intervention site. Many changes have been proposed for the low income home; these include the utilization of appropriate construction materials; installation of electricity; and the management of flammable substances such as paraffin and gas. The utilisation of household technology with demonstrated effectiveness in HICs, such as temperature controls to hot water cylinders, smoke alarms, and even automatic sprinklers, require consideration particularly as these need minimal financial inputs from stretched families. These public health interventions, mostly in the United States, Canada, parts of Europe and Australia, have already demonstrated that the injuries reported upon are preventable. However, families in poor settings confront persisting barriers to the implementation of promising safety measures, one of which is cost. Others include the nature of most low income homes (small, with constrained spaces), and the multiple and often complex daily demands on such families (van Niekerk, 2007). South Africa still needs specific home safety policies and standards, whether it is for hot water temperature regulation, safe stove standards, garment specifications, or the control and sale of fireworks to the underage. In the South African context, the above findings support the urgency of calls for greater public health and social transformation interventions. A number of obstacles require further consideration as these calls are pursued. First, the implementation of interventions that can reduce the social inequalities that underpin injury in general is a priority for the injury prevention sector (Laflamme et al., 2009) and for institutions

Childhood Burn Injury: A Matter for Hind Swaraj? 395 or individuals committed to social transformation. There are interventions that have been identified; these have however typically been in HICs, with more limited implementation in LMICs, ironically, where the global burn and injury burden is the greatest (WHO, 2002). The extent to which evidence of intervention effectiveness in HICs can be exported or adopted in LMICs is however, limited, with a scarcity of scientific evidence (Norton et al., 2006). Second, there is currently no single South African individual or group, and arguably any global group, that champions the cause of child injury prevention. The WHO has increasingly taken a proactive role in promoting injury prevention and control, but it is not specific to child injuries; there are also some professional organisations but with limited coverage, such as the International Society for Child and Adolescent Injury Prevention (see, www. iscaip. net), or in South Africa, the Child Accident Prevention Foundation of Southern Africa, or the Children’s Institute. The latter group has actively sought to promote a children’s rights agenda, perhaps an appropriate framework for enhancing the protection of South Africa children. From Political Liberation to Social Transformation: A First Call for Children The South African government recognised and publicly committed itself to a First Call for Children Policy, effected via a range of policies implemented over the last few years. These policies reflect the government’s seriousness in tackling the mammoth economic, social, and health challenges that face this sector of South African society (Proudlock, 2005). South Africa has signed the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC); set up the National Program of Action (NPA) to implement South Africa’s ‘first call for children’ commitment; provided free medical services for pregnant women and children aged up to six years; seen the establishment of a family and children section within the Ministry of Welfare; a National Youth Commission; the Nelson Mandela Children’s Fund; and others, including more recently the Children’s Amendment Act No. 41 of 2007 and the extension of the Child Support Grant, in a three-year, phased approach, starting in January 2010 with 15-year-olds, to include all children aged 17 years and younger. According to the United Nations World Summit for Children, which took place in 1990, the ‘first call for children’ represents a political and moral commitment by states and parties to put children first when allocating resources. states and parties that commit themselves to implement the CRC, agree to be guided by four principles: • the right to non-discrimination;

396 Swaraj and the Reluctant State • the right of a child to have his or her best interests taken into account as a primary consideration; • the right to survival and development; and • the right of the child to have his or her views respected. The South African Constitution in Section 28 (1996) further affirms the rights espoused in the CRC. It indicates that: every child has a right to...a name and nationality...care...basic nutrition, shelter, services...be protected...not to work...not to be detained...to have a legal practitioner in civil proceedings...not to be used...and to be protected in times of armed conflict. A child’s best interests are of paramount importance in every matter concerning the child.

In addition, the South African Constitution accords every citizen the right to adequate housing, health care services, sufficient food and water, social security, and education. These principles are broadly consistent with Gandhi’s philosophy embracing freedom, social justice, and development. The ongoing situation of South Africa children however, suggests that these rights have not as yet been realised (Leatt and Berry, 2005). The non-attainment of these human and social rights by South Africa children are in contrast to the guiding principles and tenets of the CRC, the South African Constitution, and Gandhi’s overarching philosophy of Sarvodaya (Mayton, 2001). It must be said though, that 15 years is a relatively short period in which to reverse the legacy of decades of inequity and uneven distribution of wealth and resources. During this time, several factors in the national and global environments have further aggravated the circumstances of children and diluted efforts to address their realities. The HIV/AIDS pandemic is the first among these factors that are standing in the way of the realisation of child rights. In the South African setting, familial roles are reversed as children become caregivers of those sick and dying adults who are normally charged with their care, with serious consequences. Of equal concern is the second major obstacle to the realisation of child rights, which is the ongoing and increasing income inequality and widespread poverty that prevails in South Africa. In conclusion, an effective and committed response to the situation of South African children requires a careful analysis of the socioeconomic barriers to health and safety, to development, and the translation of this to individual and social liberation and freedom. Public health accounts of the extent and occurrence of burns serve as a timely barometer of South African progress in this regard.

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21 Development through Aid: Interpreting Social Development Indicators in Afghanistan Masood Ahmed Introduction Citizens of every nation decide their fate by their action, and Afghanistan is no different. It is unfortunate that they chose the bullet over the ballot, violence over peace and more importantly they chose their destiny by becoming a puppet in the game of world dominance by the superpowers. Afghanistan was a battleground in the cold war, between the two superpowers, breeding uncontrolled violence that claimed more than 1,800,000 lives in 22 years (1979-2001). Later, the same organs of violence turned against their master when there was no one else to fight with. Cold war created a vacuum in Afghanistan where most people adopted violence as part of life and it became their second nature to be aggressive. One has to remember that living conditions are extreme in Afghanistan and nature has always been unkind to them; thus by nature they are tough people and that toughness is part of their personae. In general, the lack of development meant a continuous struggle for living. At this time, the lack of purpose also put a question before them; so a call for holy war with an opportunity to gain not only monetary benefits but also a sense of power attracted the younger generation the most. They felt liberated and with a sense of elation they waved their guns before other Afghans. It was a combination of their psychological needs and a need for development that provided fuel to the raging fires of violence and killings. Different ideologies are merely the types of logic put before the basic human needs in order to justify the actions resulting as direct consequences of following those ideologies. When you are in power, you need reasons for your action in order to maintain your dominance. People are suppressed because one force or the other wants to rule. The Afghans adopted methods which looked primitive and inhuman in the

Development through Aid: Interpreting Social Development... 401 era of free thinking and globalisation, but no one took the trouble of looking into why they applied those methods on a population which was already oppressed due to the mindless violence that has been part of their ethos for so long. In my discussions with the Afghan people, they explained that it was their way of looking at things. Women’s honour has always been part of their societal pride. In any war, women are among the first innocent victims and to safeguard their honour they make them don burqas and put them in self-made prison-type homes and behind walls, which is the proper Islamic way; a woman must dress modestly and a man should lower his gaze when approaching a woman. The above situation is not applicable to whole of Afghanistan; it is the Pashtun belt that has these features and after the collapse of the Taliban regime, the population is still influenced by the orthodox reasoning to get over law and order problems and people fear for women’s safety. Social Challenges: Issues before Government of Afghanistan and its Role in Social Engineering Society develops itself on the basis of challenges thrown at it; unfortunately the rough terrain and tough living conditions that test one’s endurance in every way pushed Afghans into adopting a model that was based on Islamic laws interpreted under their extreme conditions. It is highly regrettable that women in general are oppressed and are without any source of support that provides them hope for the future. Whenever there are conflicts and chaos, women and children are invariably among the first lot of victims. History proves that women are revered in every society but every conqueror by ill-treatment and abuse of women rocks the very foundational base of society by leaving scars that remain etched forever on the conquered ones. The condition of Afghanistan is no different than any other war-ravaged region. Afghans are admired for their courage and are inheritors of a rich martial heritage, so much so that the word Afghan has become synonymous with warrior. Unfortunately, it is also something that bedevils their lives and has denied them the opportunity of peaceful existence. The social issues that Afghanistan is facing and are attracting so much attention are due to their unceasing exposure to the means of violence. Their exposure to violence has gone on for so long that they have forgotten to develop any other way for their peaceful existence. Development requires peace and for having peace it is necessary that there should not be any outside intervention in internal matters and that there are sufficient natural resources for the population to survive

402 Swaraj and the Reluctant State and progress. Regrettably both conditions are absent in the Afghans’ case. While the Russian occupation forces tried to develop some kind of social structure in the Afghan society, the US forces supported a movement which used religion as the means of violence for dismantling the Russian occupation. In the process, developmental issues like education, health and employment got completely neglected. If there was any education, it was divided into the Soviet/Russian model and the Islamic model of rigidness for fighting against the Russians. If there was employment it was either in support of the Russian forces or for the people fighting against them. An individual who wanted to earn his livelihood had to balance the life in between the two opposing forces. At present, the Afghan government is committed to improve the status of women to conform to what is stated in various international legal and national policy frameworks, especially the UN Convention on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW), the Constitution of Afghanistan, Afghanistan Compact, ANDS Gender Strategy, and the National Action Plan for the Women of Afghanistan (NAPWA) (Ministry of Women’s Affairs 2008). There are six areas which government is focusing on: 1) Security 2) Legal protection and human rights 3) Leadership and political participation 4) Economy, work and poverty, 5) Health and 6) Education. In Afghanistan, the National Parliament seats held by women in 2010 was 27.7% (UN Statistics Dept). This warrants appreciation looking at the conditions they are facing in the rural areas. While the situation is slowly improving, yet women’s state on all the above criteria is considered to be poor, and also on most of the development indicators, Afghanistan remains at the bottom of the chart; under the Human Development Index (2011), Afghanistan was at the 172nd place out of 187 countries. Even now, 30% of the area has limited approachability and it takes almost 6 hours to 8 days to reach the nearest provincial centre. Opium is still the most lucrative crop for the Afghans and almost 90% of world’s production is from Afghanistan. It is reported that 6.6 million Afghans are not able to meet their daily food requirements and more than 30% of the Afghan population are undernourished. Forty percent of the area in which 60-80% population reside is food insecure while in the other twenty percent area it is 40-60% of the population are facing food insecurity. Thus 60% of Afghanistan is facing severe food crises and acute poverty that requires immediate help. The regions which are the worst affected are Badghis, Faryab, Ghore, Oruzgan, Saripul, Samangan and Kandhar. The green belt accounts for only 15% of the country’s area where food security exists.

Development through Aid: Interpreting Social Development... 403 Education Every society’s development depends on its quest for knowledge but the Afghan society’s quest starts and ends at maintaining its existence. Education for Afghans means integrating religion into life. This can be very much helpful if they follow the religion without any malicious intention, but the forces controlling Afghans use religion only to their advantage. First, it was sought to be achieved by pushing the Russians out, than for governing Afghanistan and later it meant trying to develop into a movement against every injustice done to Muslims around the world. It is this lopsided devotion to their cause that is forcing them to interpret Islam in a very rigid way where education is only Islamic and that too of the very extremist type. It is this kind of preaching that is responsible for all the bloodshed along with superpowers’ ulterior motives that keep the flame of injustice alive. In the meanwhile, the Afghans suffer and the only gainers are those with power and vested interests . Every society’s base develops from primary education. For this purpose, there are two basic requirements; one is the availability of teachers and second is the availability of schools. Teachers are available in the form of religious preachers providing madrassa education, but in order to have modern education they need qualified teachers to form a good academic base. This facility is far from satisfactory. The means for modern primary education are limited to major cities and district and provincial centres. The rest of the country depends on madrassa education. The figure of adult literacy is a dismal 26% (NRVA-2007-08) and the female literacy is only at 12.6%. It is also relevant to note that over half of the school aged children are not attending any school. Reported figures portray that only 28% (NHDR-2007) female teachers are available, in a nation that is already struggling to prepare the next educated generation. According to a new survey which was conducted by the Ministry of Education in 2009-10, the total number of schools was 11,990 all over the country. The total number of students was 6,602,616, out of which 2,405,881 students were female. This included all students in primary, middle, professional, night-schools, teachers’ training and religious schools. The total number of government universities was 22 in Year 2010; the total number of medical sciences, technical and vocational institutes was 32 with 75,760 students out of which, 14,407 students were female. There was an increase of 22.4% in female students in 2009-10 compared to 2008-09.

404 Swaraj and the Reluctant State

Female

Teacher Male Total

Girls

Students Boys Total

Schools Mixed Girls Boys Total

Primary 4738 32307 36945 1864370 2902437 4766807 2786 741 1630 5157 Middle 12576 31925 44501 407489 827030 1234519 2039 575 1076 3690 High School 27827 40361 68188 112417 304176 416593 979 435 1060 2474

The structure of secondary education system is yet again in a dire state, as the majority of population facing the question of survival prefer work over education. One thing that outsiders like me notice is that for Afghans, the command over English language is very helpful as many of the boys are working with international institutes and NGOs and earning good amounts of money without any higher qualification or even secondary education. Knowledge of English is sufficient to earn a good living. College education is limited to big cities, and students belonging to families who can afford them; many of the parents of students are either working in the government or are with international relief bodies. Those who are at higher ranks and are wealthy enough prefer their wards to have foreign education. Their favorite destinations, depending upon affordability are Pakistan and India for the middle class and European nations and US for the rich and well to do families. Institutions for professional education like medical and engineering courses lack facilities and they are also struggling to maintain the standards. Foreign institutions are helping them to upgrade their infrastructure by providing generous funds as well as expertise but the route is not easy. Professional education requires not only selected and talented students but also teachers who are accustomed to the changes that are taking place around them. The system requires time and some peace; both look distant possibilities in the near future. Health Nature has given Afghans tremendous strength to bear pain and suffering. It is said that when nature is cruel to you, you have to be crueller to survive. Afghans are just doing that; they are living in areas on barren land where there is no water, no electricity and no employment opportunities in sight; but still they are surviving somehow. It is estimated that 20% of the Afghan area doesn’t have any kind of health services, while in another 20% area only 40% population from that area are able to avail of health services. The people of the areas like Nimroz, Helmand and Kandhar region along the border with Pakistan are the worst sufferers.

Development through Aid: Interpreting Social Development... 405 The infrastructural situation is so bad that the President of Afghanistan ordered in the 2009 election that hospitals and health facilities were not to be utilised for election purposes. The reason behind this was to save the little infrastructure that is available. People of Afghanistan are in dire need of health facilities and health workers. Rural areas are suffering greatly on account of lack of infrastructure. It is very difficult to reach out to rural areas for many reasons; security is the main concern for any person associated with any outside agency or working with the government. Secondly, the poor road connectivity and the harsh physical terrain that looks impossible to conquer put limitations on ongoing relief work and security operations. The high population growth rate and high mortality rate are common characteristics in all provinces. More than 70% of deliveries take place at home; thus complications like post partum hemorrhage, infections and severe anemia are causing avoidable maternal deaths; only 20% of the pregnant women who are at high risk go to hospitals or clinics. Pregnancies which are referred to hospitals also face inadequacy of expert medical staff and shortage of medicines. There were only 131 hospitals in 2009-10 and as per estimates the possibility of a child not surviving beyond 40 years is 42% and over here maternal mortality rate ratio is 1,600 per 100,000 live births which is quite high. While there is some progress in the infant mortality rate as it is down from 165/ 1,000 in 2001 to 111/1,000 (NRVA-2007-08). One of the reasons for such dire health conditions is that the access to improved water resources is available to only 13% of the population, which shows the urgency that is required to improve the health facilities. Due to the poor educational set up, professional education lags behind the required level. It is extremely difficult to serve the huge population residing in areas that are inaccessible, even with all the modern amenities. Medical and health workers are limited in number and are risking their lives for the sake of the suffering population. International workers are always targeted by extremists and safety is one thing that cannot be guaranteed. Even under such a situation a few brave ones are still continuing to serve. Freedom for Development: Development funding and Role of NGOs Development cannot be forced; it has to come from the desire/urge of the population. Oppressive regimes and systems that are against human freedom only survive until the population is able to tolerate them and the level of desire/urge remains low. Once the threshold level breaks, chaos sets in and that leads to a system, where, the will of the majority takes the shape of a system and provides the structural framework.

406 Swaraj and the Reluctant State The problem in Afghanistan is to develop that progressive will in the hearts of the majority. The Pashtun population is in majority and this population was used by the American forces to oust Russians by using religion as a tool; the system that they put in place was based on an extreme view of Islam; now the world wants to disown that model and replace it with liberal democracy. In order to have democratic freedom, the population must agree with the system, but the majority of the population is accustomed to the old system, where leaders are chosen on the basis of fighting skills and dictating their terms on land. The same leaders are against the changes as they will lose their prominent positions as well as their hold on the population; so they are fighting to save their skin and for this they are again using religion, but this time against the same force who earlier taught them the tricks of war. Afghanistan is not an easy place for NGOs, especially when foreign workers are trying to achieve social changes on the lines of European thinking. While poverty, illiteracy and poor health facilities are the main challenges, the situation becomes worse when statistical data is not reliable due to the tough terrains and poor accessibility to such terrains. Development funds are available in plenty, in terms of credit facilities and grants. As per World Bank data, $440,103,306 of IDA credit and $529,467,343 grants were disbursed till June 2012. The Paris Conference held in 2008, committed $21 billion under Afghanistan National Development Strategy (ANDS) for the next five years. ANDS basically covers three areas, a) Infrastructure development b) Governance human rights laws and c) Social and economic development. Donor Pledges, Commitment and Disbursement 2009-10 US$ Million Donor

Total Pledged

Grand Total Total Bilateral Total Multilaterals

5060.17 3918.27 1141.90

Total Total Committed Disbursed 5814.90 4635.05 1179.85

1784.02 1595.49 188.53

Remaining Remaining % Pledged 3276.15 2322.78 953.37

64.74 59.28 83.49

With plenty of donor funds available, the means to distribute them remain shadowy; thus the majority of funds still remain unutilized. In the absence of proper monitoring of the given funds the desired objectives are still to be reached. National Development budget approved by the cabinet during 200710, deals with many indicators, but four major indicators which denote social progress are analysed below.

Development through Aid: Interpreting Social Development... 407 Cabinet Approved NDB 2007-10 US$ Million Indicators Total Refugee & IDP Return Education & Vocational Training Health and Nutrition Livelihoods & Social Protection

Requirements

Committed

Disbursement

2262.6 7.6 240.0 124.0 630.2

1107.8 3.2 124.6 81.9 323.5

952.0 2.6 108.9 74.3 303.1

Huge numbers of Afghans took refuge in neighbouring countries during the turmoil period which spread over decades and the country is still looking for peace; now the neighbouring countries are pushing the residents to return so that they could lessen their own economic burden. Countries like Pakistan and Iran are at the centre stage as they have the largest populations of Afghan refugees. Still the amount spent on this issue is far less than what is required. Also other indicators that the government is focusing on, tell the same story, as there is a huge gap between required, committed and disbursed funds. Development Projects Expenditure by NGOs in 2009-10 NGO

Total Expenses Number of projects sector wise Administrative Project Ser- Agri- Health Educaexpenses expenses vices culture tion

Local NGOs International NGOs Total

113.28 127.52 240.80

8.56 34.66 43.22

104.72 92.86 197.58

71 41 113

9 10 18

19 27 46

6 15 21

International donors are helping NGOs to provide much relief to the suffering population; The four sectors mentioned above denote the segregation. While in terms of amounts there is not much difference between the local NGOs and the international ones, but 105 projects are with the local NGOs and 93 are with the international ones. In providing services, international groups prefer local NGOs as they are more accustomed to and familiar with the local environment; also international NGOs consist of foreign workers who are at high risk in the rural areas due to the ongoing strife. There is a visible difference in figures as GDP growth rate at constant 1990 prices (annual %). In 2009 it was 22.5, while in the year 2005 it was 14.5 and in the year 2000 it was -3.5. Also GDP per capita was $456 in comparison to $172 in the year 2000. It shows that the earning potential is growing fast (UN Statistics Division). Also cities are showing signs of development, and infrastructural works are being executed. Indian government has also contributed its share with a $450 million (Financial Express, August 5, 2008) aid package. Also recently 220 km road in the

408 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Nimroz province of Afghanistan has opened for trade; this road has been built with Indian aid ($150 million) and, human lives that include 11 Indian workers and 126 Afghans who were killed during its construction period. India is contributing generously towards the $ 1.1 billion reconstruction effort in progress in Afghanistan. It is to be noted that in spite of all the aid from the different institutions, it is not enough to eradicate the suffering of the population as unknowingly they are the victims of their own doing; their support to means of violence and their limited knowledge and understanding of the world around them make them followers of leaders who only promote their own selfish causes. Development requires interplay between the means of development. The innocent population is not accessible, and to deliver help at their doorstep means crossing the hurdle of violence, and for this security forces need to be strong enough. For securing the region, it is essential that elements of violence must not be able to influence the population and population must realise that for their development they need to support initiatives that represent peace; only then will Afghanistan be able to stand on its own and only then can the Afghans dream of a better future in Afghanistan. REFERENCES ●

● ● ●

●

●

●

Reports and Statistics from Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development. Afghanistan NRVA Report 2007-08. NHDR 2007. Dreze J and Sen A., Hunger and Public Action, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, 1989. Guhan, S, ‘Social Security Options for Developing Countries’, International Labour Review, 133(1) 1994. IFAD, Rural Poverty Report 2001: The Challenge of Ending Rural Poverty. Oxford University Press, 2001. UN Statistics Division.

Website References ● ● ● ● ●

www.worldbank.org www.unicef.org www.dfid.gov.uk www.un.org www.oecd.org

22 Peace: Its Indices and Implications for Swaraj* Shahnaaz Suflla, Mohamed Seedat and Abdulrazak Karriem

Contemporary and historical scholarship on Hind Swaraj, concerned with freedom, independence, world order, social justice and identity, implies a call for a careful and nuanced focus on peace and its determinants. Following on this assumption, in this article we aim to present a particular conceptualisation of peace, as informed by the peace psychology literature and the Global Peace Index (GPI), which was first launched in 2007 and revised in 2008 and 2009. The Index, which ranks countries according to their degree of peacefulness, helps us understand the conditions and drivers of peace. We describe the origins, development and measures of the GPI, examine how it articulates peace and its determinants, and review its utility. We propose specific revisions to the three key measures employed by the GPI to assess a country’s peacefulness, namely, indicators of: ongoing domestic and international conflict; societal safety and security; and militarisation. With particular reference to South Africa, India, Brazil and the United States of America (USA), we also explore how indices of globalisation can be incorporated to increase the currency of the Index, and make suggestions for our conceptualisation of peace to include a consideration of human security as significantly influenced by global environmental changes and policy responses to such changes. We begin with a summary review of the concept of peace. Peace Peace can be viewed as a process, outcome and state. At the process level we could engage in peacemaking exercises, including conflict resolution and mediation, shuttle diplomacy, negotiation and violence prevention interventions in order to create particular outcomes: cessation of violent hostilities, humanitarian relief for combatants and * Earlier published in Social Change, Vol. 40, No. 4, December 2010.

410 Swaraj and the Reluctant State civilian populations and the restoration of communications for purposes of dialogue. Such outcomes are vital for the more long-term and protracted process of peacebuilding. Hence, when successful, peacemaking can contribute to the development of conditions crucial for the essential mission of crafting a peaceful society in which the structural arrangements and cultural narratives are directed at promoting human security and well-being, and reducing inequality and oppression (Suftla, 2004). The process of peacebuilding could entail the promotion of the values of tolerance, respect and unity, and the establishment of truth commissions or other similar mechanisms as a vehicle for acknowledging human rights violations and redistributive justice measures like land distribution and empowerment of those marginalised from economic resources. It is argued that the political, economic and social strategies typically implemented to facilitate the transition from violence to peace must necessarily include interventions to interrupt cycles of violence and promote reconciliation (Wessells and Monteiro, 2001). In this regard, truth commissions, as in the case of South Africa, aim to create public awareness about the extent of statesanctioned human rights violations, grant amnesty to perpetrators under specific conditions, restore the dignity of the victims and promote a moral order within which all citizens can reconcile and exercise their citizenship in meaningful ways (Swartz, 2006). De-emphasising punitive and retributive justice, truth commissions seem to favour restitutive justice that may assume socio-economic forms. However, the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) has been criticised for failing citizens as far as restitutive justice is concerned (Swartz, 2006). Peacebuilding measures are intended to reconcile victims and perpetrators, produce citizens who valorise dialogue and non-violent negotiations, tolerance and human dignity, and foster socio-economic justice. Peacebuilding is concerned with disadvantages and structural obstacles embedded in the social, economic and political system of a society that are likely to perpetuate systemic exploitation, oppression, discrimination and inequity (Christie, Wagner and Winter, 2001; Galtung, 1996). Although contemporary theory regards social justice to be a complex and difficult concept to measure, once understood contextually (Miller, 2001), social justice is about the satisfaction of basic human needs such as adequate housing and food, health care, education, employment and safety for all people (for example, Christie et al., 2001; Galtung, 1996). For the purposes of this article, we accept that social justice can be assured through the equitable access to politico-economic resources needed to satisfy basic human needs (Christie et al., 2001). Peacemaking and peacebuilding measures, which are considered

Peace, Its Indices and Implications for Swaraj 411 to represent an interlocking system of peace (Christie et al., 2001), together create for a state of peace which is more that the absence of violent conflict. This conceptualisation stresses the idea that a new social order must address peace not only in terms of preventing or resolving conflict, but also in terms of pursuing social justice. In turn, this brings about the development and execution of a critical consciousness that challenges the status quo by exposing dominant cultural discourses, honouring multiple voices through the co-construction of social change, advancing an activist agenda and promoting the sustainable satisfaction of basic human needs (Christie, 2001). In many respects, peace and the meaning of peace are cultural constructs. For instance, the Gandhian philosophy of Satyagraha articulates a spiritualised conceptualisation of peace. Satyagraha, interpreted as a positive peacebuilding strategy, is aimed at: the pursuit of welfare for all; truth and wisdom; self-discipline and civil disobedience directed at unjust laws and policies (Mayton, 2001). Gandhi’s peacebuilding philosophy favours long-term changes in attitudes and enduring social change. Importantly, it is an attempt to capture and elevate the spiritual-cultural and subjective dimensions of peace. Gandhi’s use of Satyagraha as an orientation and method to challenge an established political order was directed at reducing social injustices. Once we recognise that the attainment of peace, which contains multiple cultural meanings, is contingent on building egalitarian political cultures, maximising inclusive forms of participation in public life, socio-economic justice, and valuing human diversity and citizens who cherish democratic ideals (Montiel and Wessells, 2001), then we are able to appreciate peace as a complex and nuanced state.The GPI, to which we now turn, represents an attempt to ‘capture’the complexities of peace. Global Peace Index Background The GPI, a pioneering milestone in the study of peace, is the first index to rank countries of the world by their peacefulness.It was formulated by Steve Killelea, an Australian expert in international marketing, business and product strategy, whose professional interests are driven by the need to effect change for as many people as possible, with special emphasis on the poorest people across the world. It is associated with the Institute for Economics and Peace in Australia, an independent notfor-profit research institute that aims at cultivating the interrelationships between business, peace and economic development. Through its expansive reach across the globe, it endeavours to empower the private sector, academic community, civil society, international

412 Swaraj and the Reluctant State institutions and governments with information and tools that will allow them to employ peace to meet their intended objectives. The GPI is part of an initiative that seeks to impart a strategic approach to raising awareness of the importance of global peace to humanity’s survival. It has emerged from a collaborative enterprise that has assembled a range of groups and ideas, and is supported by a wide range of philanthropists, business people, politicians, religious leaders and intellectuals (Vision of Humanity, 2009). Within the logic of the GPI, peace is considered to be an essential prerequisite for achieving the levels of cooperation, inclusiveness and social equity crucial for human development. The first GPI, launched in 2007, ranked 121 countries according to their relative states of peace. It was revised in 2008 and 2009 to include 140 and 144 countries respectively (Vision of Humanity, 2007, 2008, 2009).The Index aims to move beyond elementary measures of war and conflict. As such, it aims to investigate systematically the dynamics and drivers of peace. As we will demonstrate below, the GPI points to significant differences in the peacefulness of nations. Small and stable countries tend to obtain higher rankings, indicating a possible link between peacefulness and wealth of nations. Whereas peace internal to a country is correlated with a range of indicators, like income, schooling and degree of regional integration, no single factor seems to account for countries that enjoy high levels of peace with neighbours, regionally and globally. Indicators The GPI utilises twenty-three indicators, which include a focus on a nation’s level of military expenditure to its relations with neighbouring states and the level of respect for human rights. The twenty-four indicators, scaled from one to five and arranged around three key measures, namely: (a) ongoing domestic and international conflict; (b) societal safety and security and (c) militarization, makes peace contingent on very specific conditions. The first category of conditions, focused primarily on the physical nature of conflicts, indicates that peace may be compromised by: the increasing frequency of external and internal conflicts; deaths arising from external and internally organised conflicts; the level of internal organised conflict; and conflictual relations with neighbouring countries. The second category suggests that peace may be threatened by: increasing perceptions of criminality in society; high numbers of displaced people as a percentage of the population; political instability; high level of disrespect for human rights; potential for terrorist acts; high number of homicides per 100,000 people; high

Peace, Its Indices and Implications for Swaraj 413 level of violent crime; likelihood of violent demonstrations; disproportionate number of jailed persons per 100,000 population; and disproportionate number of internal security officers and police per 100,000 people. The third category associates peace with the absence of a militarized culture. Militarisation is indicated by: military expenditure as a percentage of gross domestic product (GDP); number of armed services personnel per 100,000 people; volume of transfers (imports) of major conventional weapons per 100,000 people; volume of transfers (imports and exports) of major conventional weapons per 100,000 people; funding for UN peacekeeping missions; aggregate number of heavy weapons per 100,000 people; ease of access to small arms and light weapons; and military capability and sophistication. The indicators have been chosen as being the best available datasets indicative of peace or the absence thereof, and include both quantitative and qualitative scores (Vision of Humanity, 2007, 2008, 2009). Drivers Importantly, the GPI provides data to enable enquiry into the relative significance of a range of potential determinants or ‘drivers’ that may influence the creation and fostering of peaceful societies.The GPI has been tested against several potential determinants of peace, including levels of democracy and transparency, international openness, demographics, education, culture and material well-being. Perceptions of corruption, gender inequality, adult literacy rate, willingness to fight, hostility to foreigners, unemployment, life expectancy and infant mortality are some of the items used to concretise the information on drivers of peace (Vision of Humanity, 2007, 2008, 2009). Based on the research undertaken on the GPI against the selected set of drivers, peaceful societies are those characterised as countries with very low levels of internal conflict with efficient, accountable governments, strong economies, integrated populations and good relations within the international community (see Table 1). In 2009, research on this interface indicated tentative signs of a causal relationship between the state of peace and the strength of the economy (Vision of Humanity, 2009). It was found that with the global economy having been influenced by a recession, many of the GPI measures, such as likelihood of violent demonstration and political instability, declined accordingly. It is argued that this relationship is more apparent in the GPI measures of the more economically vulnerable countries, such as South Africa (Vision of Humanity, 2009).

414 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Table 1. Conditions that Eliminate the Causes of Violence and Build Peace Structural Drivers of Peace

Attitudinal Drivers of Peace

• Good relations with neighbouring • Respect for human rights states • Low levels of corruption • Belief in free speech • Well-functioning government • Welcome high levels of cooperation both within the nation and externally • High levels of per capita income • Feel that it is not necessary to believe in God to be moral • High enrolment rate in primary • Less likely to believe that their society school is superior • Low child mortality rates • Believe that they have control of their lives • Freedom of the press • Believe in the limited use of the military and only when internationally sanctioned • High extent of regional • Friendliness or lack of hostility to integration foreigners Source: Vision of Humanity (2009).

Comparing South Africa, India, Brazil and United States America The GPI placed South Africa 99 among 121 countries in 2007, 116 among 140 countries in 2008, and 123 among 144 countries in 2009 (see Table 2) (Vision of Humanity, 2007, 2008, 2009). Even though the expansion of GPI countries from 121 to 140 between 2007 to 2008 prohibits direct comparisons of rank, a ‘special’ 2008 comparative version of the GPI that focused only on the original countries showed South Africa’s ranking to have dropped by six places (-6). South Africa’s descending slide and ranking of 116 in 2008 located it closer to wartorn countries such as Ethiopia (121), Sri Lanka (125) and Colombia (130). Regionally, South Africa was ranked 18 among 30 African countries in 2008, setting it apart from peaceful countries like Ghana (1) and it neighbours, Botswana (3), Mozambique (4) and Zambia (5). The latest Index indicates that alongside Madagascar, Mexico, Latvia and Yemen, South Africa is one of the five countries which have experienced the greatest deterioration in peacefulness. All the countries which have had the biggest falls in peacefulness are either marked by violent protests, political instability, threats of terrorist attacks, increased level of criminal violence, currency crisis, or drug wars (Vision of Humanity, 2009). Like South Africa, India’s ranking declined considerably between 2008 (107) and 2009 (122), with its 2009 score positioning it close to South Africa (Vision of Humanity, 2009). Indicator information (see Table 3) suggests that ongoing internal conflicts and related security concerns, a weak human rights culture and a high level of militarisation have contributed to India’s low ranking. Within the Asia Pacific region,

Peace, Its Indices and Implications for Swaraj 415 India is currently ranked 20 among 25 countries, and is placed within the same score band as Sri Lanka (125), which has been steeped in civil conflict for a number of years, and Myanmar (126), which remains under military rule. Table 2: GPI Rankings and Scores for South Africa, India, Brazil and USA Global Peace Index 2009 Country Rank Score South Africa India Brazil USA

123 122 85 83

2.437 2.422 2.022 2.015

Rank

2008 Score

2007 Rank Score

116 107 90 97

2.412 2.355 2.168 2.227

99 109 83 96

2.399 2.530 2.173 2.317

Source: Vision of Humanity (2007, 2008, 2009).

Unlike the African and Asia Pacific regions, Latin America exhibits a wide variation in country ranking, with Brazil located about midway in its 2009 regional ranking (12 among 23 countries) (Vision of Humanity, 2009). Brazil’s overall rank of 85 among 144 countries in 2009 demonstrates an improvement in the country’s level of peacefulness since 2008. However, its Peace Index scores since the launch of the GPI consistently reflect elevated levels of violent crime, including homicide, associated with ease of access to weapons. Abuses of human rights is another key factor in Brazil’s low scores on measures of societal safety and security, likely related to reports of police brutality, corruption, torture and summary executions by civil and military police and prison authorities, who are frequently accused of contributing to violence and crime in areas considered to be focal points for extreme levels of armed violence, often related to drug trafficking (Amnesty International, 2008). The USA, placed at 96, 97 and 83 in 2007, 2008 and 2009 respectively (Vision of Humanity, 2007, 2008, 2009), has also improved in its ranking. It is flanked by Ukraine (82) and Kazakhstan (84) in the 2009 rankings; however, unlike these two countries the USA is currently involved in violent international conflict, its so-called global war on terrorism. The USA’s current ranking, which indicates low scores on measures of ongoing domestic and international conflict, is therefore surprising. The exception here is the score assigned to the number of estimated deaths resulting from organised external conflict, reflective of the recent military casualties suffered by the USA in war and deployments, such as those during the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan. A study by Iraqi physicians and epidemiologists at Johns Hopkins University’s Bloomberg School of Public Health found that 655,000 more people

416 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Table 3. Indicator lnformation for South Africa, India, Brazil and USA, 2009 Indicator Information

South Africa India Brazil USA Score Score Score Score (I = most (I = most (I = most (I = most peaceful) peaceful) peaceful) peaceful)

Measures of Ongoing Domestic and International Conflict Number of externaland internal conflicts fought 2002-07 Estimated number of deaths from organised conflict (external) Number of deaths from organised conflict (internal) Level of organised conflict (internal) Relations with neighbouring countries

1.5

5

1

1.5

1

1

1

3

1 4 2

3 3 3

1 1 1

1 1 2

3

3

2

1 1.75 4 4

1 1.25 4 1

1 1.25 3 3

2 3 3

5 4 3

2 2 2

1

2

5

1

3

2

1.5

1

2

1

1

1

1

1

2.5

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

4 4

4 3

3 5

Measures of Societal Safety and Security Perceptions of criminality in society 4 Number of displaced people as a percentage of the population 1 Political instability 2 Respect for human rights 3.5 Potential for terrorist acts 1 Number of homicides per 1,00,000 people 5 Level of violent crime 5 Likelihood of violent demonstrations 3 Number of jailed population per 100,000 people 2.5 Number of intemal security officers and police per 100,000 people 2 Measures of Militarisation Military expenditure as a percentage of GOP 1 Number of armed services personnel per 100,000 people 1 Volume of transfers of major conventional weapons as supplier 1 (exports) per 100,000 people Volume of transfers of major 1 conventional weapons, as recipient (imports) per 100,000 people Funding for UN peacekeeping missions 1 (percentage of assessed contribution) Aggregate number of heavy weapons per 100,000 people 1 Ease of access to weapons of minor destruction 4 Military capability/sophistication 4 Source: Vision of Humanity {2009).

Peace, Its Indices and Implications for Swaraj 417 (overwhelmingly civilian) have died than would have been the case if the invasion had not occurred (Brown, 2006). These figures must have increased substantially since the publication of the study in 2006. In Afghanistan, Human Rights Watch found that civilian deaths from US and NATO airstrikes tripled between 2006 and 2007; in the first seven months of 2008, at least 540 Afghan civilians were killed in fighting related to the armed conflict by both the US-led forces and the Taliban (Human Rights Watch, 2008). The USA has long been considered by some as a warrior nation. According to Velvel (2004 in Uhler, 2008), since World War II, the USA has fought the Korean War, the Vietnam War, secret wars in Laos and Cambodia, the First and Second Gulf Wars, the Afghanistan War; has invaded or bombed, among other countries, Panama, Grenada, Cuba, Haiti, Somalia, Sudan, Bosnia, Kosovo, Serbia and Libya; and has declared a worldwide ‘war on terrorists’. Accordingly, the country’s high score on military capability and sophistication highlights its considerable capacity in terms of number of military personnel, defence budget, and volume of advanced and powerful military equipment. The USA’s improved ranking is therefore questionable in view of its sustained military offensives in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan, as well as its record of human rights violations, evidenced in reports of police brutality and ill-treatment in prisons and jails, such as Guantanamo Bay detention camp, and immigration detention facilities (Amnesty International, 2009). Critical Observations The foregoing review reveals that the GPI contributes substantially to our understanding of factors, structures and institutions that help build and sustain peace and peaceful societies.A few of the key factors are levels of democracy, transparency, education and material well-being. A comparison across the four countries, namely, South Africa, India, Brazil and the USA, suggests that the mission of building peace is dependent on non-violent means to resolve conflict and disputes, the pursuit of socially just outcomes, as well as the creation of mechanisms through which society can pursue the key principles of equity, access, participation and rights (for example, Christie et al., 2001). When we, for instance, consider South Africa’s and India’s rankings within GPI parameters that make a link between peacefulness and wealth, we observe that both are at a policy cross-roads as they attempt to insert themselves into a globalised and liberalised economic order in the context of growing national social disparities, violent conflicts and militarisation. As such, the GPI seems to ignore the influence of globalisation on the social determinants or drivers of peace. As a set of

Number of internal state security officers and police per 100,000 people Number of armed services personnel per 100,000 people Estimated number of armed services personnel per 100,000 people engaged in active wars Number of privatised police officers per 100,000 population Volume of transfers (imports) of major conventional weapons per 100,000 people

Number of deaths from organised Political instability conflict (internal)

Level of disrespect for human rights

Potential for terrorist acts

Number of homicides per 100,000 people

Rate of violent crime

Level of organised conflict (internal)

Relations with neighbouring countries

Military expenditure as a percentage ofGDP Police services expenditure as a percentage of GDP

Perceptions of criminality in society

Number of external and internal conflicts fought: 2002—07

3. Measures of Militarization

Estimated number of deaths from Number of displaced people as organised conflict (external) a percentage of the population

2. Measures of Societal Safety and Security

1. Measures of Ongoing Domestic and International Conflict

Indicators

Table 4. Proposed Revisions and Additions to GPI Indicators (as highlighted)

Table 4. (Continued)

Number of state enterprises privatised

Unemployment rate

National debt

Socio-economic disparities (as per GINI coefficient)

Poverty levels

Economic Growth

4. Measures of Impact of Globalization

418 Swaraj and the Reluctant State

1. Measures of Ongoing Domestic and International Conflict

Table 4. (Continued)

Funding for UN peacekeeping missions (percentage of assessed contribution) Aggregate number of heavy weapons per 100,000 people

Number of jailed population per 100,000 people

Number of detentions without trial per 100,000 population

4. Measures of Impact of Globalization

Number of deaths in detention per 100,000 population

Military capability/sophistication (including nuclear potential)

Number of extra-judicial killings Ease of access to weapons of minor destruction

Volume of transfers (exports) of major conventional weapons per 100,000 people

3. Measures of Militarization

Likelihood of violent demonstrations

2. Measures of Societal Safety and Security

Indicators

Peace, Its Indices and Implications for Swaraj 419

420 Swaraj and the Reluctant State processes, economic globalisation weaves complex global, inter-regional and transitional networks that either include or exclude nation-states, communities, social groups and individuals differentially and unequally. Those on the periphery of ‘advanced services, producer centers, markets in the global network’ are rendered ‘irrelevant or even dysfunctional’(Castells, in Labonte and Schrecker, 2007: 8). The most vulnerable sections of society are thereby excluded from social justice and participatory democracy measures that encourage and drive peace. Globalisation comes to influence the social determinants of peace through a pathway of seven interacting clusters that are identified as impacting on the social determinants of health as well as peace. The seven clusters are: trade liberalisation; the global reorganisation of production and labour markets; economic restructuring by way of marketisation; financial liberalisation; the restructuring of urban settings by global markets; marketisation of health systems; and marketisation of natural and environmental resources (Ballard, Habib, Valodia and Zuern, 2005; Labonte and Schrecker, 2007; Stiglitz, 2003). When the social determinants of health and peace that cover all of the conditions under which people live and work, such as their early childhood environment, social support systems and systems of access to food, transport, health and work, are negatively impacted on as a result of engagement with globalisation, then there are significant consequences for health and safety,including compromises in such countries’ peace status (Labonte and Schrecker, 2007).Thus, economic globalisation that champions the profit logic of market-driven economies, de-emphasises the role of the state in development and the distribution of resources, upholds privatisation as panacea for sluggish growth and encourages downsizing the public sector in the name of fiscal discipline, has produced conditions for the rapid global integration of certain countries and groups within countries and simultaneously heightened the marginalisation of other countries.Within countries, globalisation’s negative influences produce greater social and economic inequalities between groups, thereby provoking an increased sense of relative deprivation and competition for limited resources (Labonte and Schrecker, 2007; Stiglitz, 2003), and so create a structural context for violence. In South Africa for instance, public protests against inadequate service delivery have assumed violent dimensions since 2006. A recent qualitative analysis has indicated an escalation in deaths and injuries related to protests arising from community demands for social services, poverty alleviation, employment creation and adequate housing (Seedat, Suffla and Lau, 2009). In some centres of the country, the protests are directed against the heavy-handed and illegal actions of municipal and

Peace, Its Indices and Implications for Swaraj 421 provincial governments that are intent on clearing ‘slums’ or informal settlements before the 2010 Football World Cup. In this regard, the ‘testing’of the Slum Clearance Bill in the province of Kwa-Zulu Natal serves as a precursor for the development of national policy on clearing slums (Gibson, 2008: 10). The violence, as a threat to peace, occurs in the context of increasing social-economic disparities, growing public militarised discourse and insufficient intemalisation of constitutional principles and ideals of ubunnr that stress impartial and public-centred leadership, equity and democracy. The increasing public violence suggests that social justice needs remain unfulfilled for many of South Africa’s vulnerable and poor. Likewise, in India the deployment of soldiers, paramilitary forces and police personnel in various parts of the country, like Orissa, Kashmir, Jharkhand, Maharashtra and Chhattisgarh, is indicative of a militarised response to unresolved social conflicts. In the last four years, India’s Maoist rebel insurgency has resulted in the deaths of over 900 security forces, a startling figure when compared to the 1,100 US security forces killed in Afghanistan. These figures do not take into account innocent civilians caught in the crossfire between the guerillas and government forces. In order to combat the growing counter-insurgency, the Indian government is planning to deploy 70,000 paramilitary personnel to pursue the Maoist guerillas (Yardley, 2009). According to Vishwa Ranjan, chief of the State Police in Chhattisgarh, civilian casualties are inevitable as the security forces adopt a no-zero casualty approach in the offensive against the guerillas (see Yardley, 2009). The Maoists claim to represent the dispossessed sectors of lndian society, especially indigenous Tribal groups, who suffer from high rates of poverty, illiteracy and infant mortality. In the context of globalised and liberalised markets, many parts of both central and eastern India are regarded as unexploited mineral rich regions. Tribal people who live in those regions and resist the privatisation and commercialisation of their traditional lands and forests are under threat by multi-national interests that are buttressed by the Indian government’s economic policies that in the name of economic development restrict the access by the poor to basic everyday living and property resources. In recent years, India has emerged as a major economic power, with exports of manufactured goods, commodities and services fuelling high rates of economic growth. While economic globalisation has transformed India into an economic powerhouse, it has also deepened inequalities. Approximately 40 per cent of Mumbai’s population live in slums and a further 5-10 per cent are pavement dwellers, all with inadequate access to basic services such as potable water, sanitation and sewage collection (Appadurai, 2001; de Sherbinin,

422 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Schiller and Pulsipher, 2007). Many of Mumbai’s slums are being demolished to build luxury apartments to house the rich, the main beneficiaries of economic globalisation. Mumbai’s slums and luxury apartments are divided by what Anand Giridharadas aptly describes as the ‘Dickensian disparities of the new India’ (Giridharadas, 2006). Trade liberalisation and other International Monetary Fund and World Bank structural adjustment policies, among the key drivers of rapid rural to urban migration in countries like India, exacerbate the inability of cities such as Mumbai to provide work, housing and basic services, generating what Mike Davis refers to as a ‘planet of slums’ (Davis, 2006). Brazil, like India, is one of the most unequal countries in the world in terms of land and income distribution. For example, one per cent of landowners own 45 per cent of all agricultural land farmland, much of it unproductive land held for speculation (Petras and Veltmeyer, 2003). Almost 50 per cent of Brazil’s poor reside in rural areas and the incidence of poverty among the rural population is more than double that of urban areas (World Bank, 1999). Oppressive rural social relations still prevalent in parts of Brazil are marked by the persistence of slavery. According to the International Labour Organization, between 1995 and 2005 almost 18,000 workers were freed by government agencies from work conditions that were analogous to slavery (Rede Social de Justica, 2006; Sakamoto, 2005). Most cases of slave labour occur in export-oriented soy and sugar cane plantations. Within these conditions landless workers, mobilised by groups such as Brazil’s Landless Movement (MST), have utilised a clause in the Brazilian Constitution to pressurise the Government to expropriate land which does not serve a social function. Since the Government has not proactively expropriated unutilised land, MST-led land occupations have compelled the Government to redistribute over 7 million acres of farmland to its members (Karriem, 2009). MST mobilisations have enabled rural citizens, who have long been politically marginalised by coercive politics of rural elites, to exercise their rights (Carter, 2005; Carvalho, 2001). The struggle by landless families for land to produce livelihoods has, however, evoked violent opposition from landowners and the police. As a consequence, almost 1,600 rural workers have been killed in land conflicts since the mid-1980s (Cadji, 2000; CPT, 2004). In Brazil, violence, as a manifestation of social inequalities and unequal power relations, continues to threaten the achievement of peace. Despite its high income status, the USA, following its imperial designs and ambitions of empire, maintains a domestic system of social inequalities and militarised foreign policy that is legitimated by the manufacture of a global security threat. The militarised foreign policy is driven by the need to acquire maximum global resources primarily

Peace, Its Indices and Implications for Swaraj 423 for its elite classes (for example, Meernik, 2004). The underclasses of American society continue to be denied access to safety resources even under conditions of disaster. For example, when Hurricane Katrina flooded New Orleans in 2005, it was poor African Americans and the elderly who bore the brunt of deaths, loss of homes and livelihoods. Unlike richer residents of New Orleans who had the resources to move to safety, poor communities lacked the capabilities (for example, fmancial and private transport) to quickly move to safe ground (Cutter et al., 2006). While the poor in low- and middle-income countries are adversely impacted by climate-related disasters, poor communities in high-income countries like the USA are also vulnerable. Among the major drivers of global environmental change is the high use of natural resources to feed the consumption patterns of the richest 20 per cent of the world’s population largely based in the global north. However, the impact is global in that ‘western values and consumer lifestyles’ have been adopted by elites in low- and middle-income countries that have copied an economic model that is based on promoting consumption (Rees and Westra, 2003: 101). Thus, we suggest that the influences of climatic changes, globalisation and restrictive and exclusionary economic systems on peace are insufficiently considered within the GPI. With respect to the former, in recent years, there has been growing acceptance that human activities specially increased fossil fuel use, land use change and growing exploitation of natural resources—are contributing to changes in our atmosphere and climate. Consequently, there has been more frequent and severe climate-related heat waves, flooding and droughts that adversely impact poor communities across the world (Adams, 2008; Leichenko and O’Brien, 2008; Sanchez-Rodriguez, 2008). Moreover, entrenched gender inequity is a key contributor to vulnerability in disaster situations, with studies showing that women and children are fourteen times more likely to die than men in natural disasters (Demetriades and Esplen, 2008). Similarly, an increased rate of deforestation in Sri Lanka has meant that the time spent by women and girls collecting fuel wood has increased from 0.9 to 4.7 hours per week (Awumbila and Momsen, 1995). Vulnerability is also context specific: women in rural India may face different sets of problems compared to women in urban India. Environmentalists argue that if carbon emissions are not reduced and climate change mitigation and adaptation measures are not instituted, melting ice caps could lead to sea-level rise which could inundate small islands and flood heavily populated low-lying coastal cities. Frequent floods and droughts could negatively impact the world’s food and water supply, potentially leading to violent conflicts over

424 Swaraj and the Reluctant State access to these resources. The potential for resource-related conflicts cannot be underestimated. Conflicts have occurred over land in Zimbabwe, diamonds in Liberia, natural gas between Russia and the Ukraine, and water in the Middle East. Hence, the call is to engage in sustained efforts to include marginalised social groups as active participants in climate change negotiations and policies (Agyeman, Bullard and Evans, 2003). Such public policies, be they at local, national and global levels, need to adopt context-specific programmes to overcome the vulnerabilities of specific marginalised groups. Despite such calls, the two principal treaties dealing with global efforts to fight climate change—the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) and the Kyoto Protocol—do not mention ‘women’or ‘gender’, nor do they refer to ‘poverty’or ‘deprivation’ (Skutch, 2002). Conclusions The preceding review of the GPI and critical observations reveal that peace is a dynamic state supported by particular drivers and yet vulnerable to the vagaries of state policies, global developments and cyclical changes in political administrations’ priorities and ideologies. The project of independence and human development, as articulated in Hind Swaraj, would therefore need to remain ever vigilant to the threats to peace and sensitive to the conditions supportive of peace. Peace under the rubric of environmental security foregrounds the notion that climate and natural resource issues are critical to achieving political and economic stability, the conditions upon which peace is contingent (for example, Raleigh and Urdal, 2007). Such an understanding of the drivers of peace requires a shift from narrow state-centric notions of national security to the idea of human security, which stresses human well-being (Matthew, Barnett, McDonald and O’Brien, 2009). Once we view global environmental change from the perspective of human security, we are able to see the interconnectedness of greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions and melting polar ice caps and poverty, vulnerability, social equity and conflict. Whereas a focus on climatic changes implies a shift in our understandings of the drivers of peace, a consideration of the impact of globalisation on the social determinants of peace calls for a revision and possible expansion of the indicators utilised by the GPI to assess country-level peacefulness.Accordingly, as per Table 4, we propose that the indicators be expanded to include a fourth indicator that reflects the influence of globalisation. We also propose revisions within each group of measures for purposes of conceptual coherence. Measures of globalisation may be social inequality, as indicated by the GINI

Peace, Its Indices and Implications for Swaraj 425 coefficient, levels of poverty against percentage of economic growth, unemployment and national debts. Additional proposed measures of societal safety and security are number of detentions without trial per 100,000 population, number of extra-judicial killings and number of deaths in detention. Other possible measures of militarisation are estimated number of armed services personnel (per 100,000) deployed for active wars, police services expenditure as a percentage of GDP and estimated number of privatised security officers. Notwithstanding the limitations, in closing we reiterate that the GPI contains many utilitarian functions in that it can serve as an early warning system enabling peace activists to detect rapid changes in the multiple drivers of peace, and monitor and influence policies, including those dealing with poverty reduction, social development and environment and climatic change. NOTES 1. The international seminar, at which a version of this article was presented, was co-hosted by institutions residing in these countries, hence the focus on these countries. 2. For example, Abahlali base Mjondolo or the Shack Dwellers Movement secured a court order from the Western Cape High Court preventing the Cape Town City Municipality from demolishing their shacks. However, the municipality ignored the interdict and destroyed their shacks and confiscated building materials (Dugard and Tissington, 2009). 3. African concept which means that a person is only a person through his/ her relationship to others.

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PART IV

SWARAJ

IN

ACTION

23 Swaraj, Democracy and Subaltern: Regional Dynamics of Agrarian India B.N. Prasad The centenary year of ‘Satyagraha’ was celebrated all over the country in 2008. The year 2009 was the centenary year of ‘Hind Swaraj’, October 2, has been declared International Day of Non-Violence by UNO. These initiatives underline the global significance of Gandhian philosophy even in the new millennium. The world is passing through a critical phase of structural violence and there are intense debates on alternative paths of social development. It is the opportune time to reflect upon the Gandhian model for rural reconstruction in order to build up a nonviolent social order, understand its structural limitations, and use it as an alternative model for development and social reconstruction. Broadly speaking, there have been three dominant ways of induced development and social change in India: Kanoon (legislative process), the developmental model imposed from above by the state, Karuna (compassion), Gandhian way of social reconstruction, and Katla (murder), convenient refrain of Gandhians for Communist movements. The above ways have their own model, ideologies, strategies and logic of articulation. These models will be analysed one by one in the ensuing discussion with their structural limitations, and their resultant impact beyond the institutional frame of agrarian mobilisation for socioeconomic equity, accompanied by spurts of societal violence in rural Bihar. Ideally speaking, violence is an act that disturbs the equilibrium of peaceful co-existence, and when survival of the fittest becomes an intrinsic course. This framework provides non-violence the widest possible canvas of philosophical flight. It is an ideal type, and existence of any society in perfect absence of violence is only a theoretical proposition. However, in the course of time people learnt the principle of coexistence, invented social norms and values, and came to accept a degree of violence-structured or sporadic. The violence was of the acceptable level defined by social sensibilities and was subject to

432 Swaraj and the Reluctant State adaptations with marginal deviation. Therefore, acceptance of the level of violence in any form marks the level of sensitivity and consciousness that a society has acquired in the process of its transformation and development, and thus the level of peaceful coexistence denotes the level of progress.1 In the process of development human beings created social structures and institutions, to regulate behaviour for peaceful coexistence. When the system discriminates, deprives, and exploits in terms of unequal access to resources, opportunities and life chances, against decent living conditions, it reveals the violence inherent in the structure.2 Violence ingrained in structures varies with the degree of exploitation of people practised through structured institutions and systems across time and space. However, social stratification has been a ubiquitous presence in human society. But larger the gap between layers of social system, the systems are more prone to violence and crises. G. Lenski in his magisterial survey of social development noted how agrarian societies were the most unequal societies, negating thereby any successful representation of democracy, let alone the autochthonous development of such a system of political rule in such regions. The establishment of democratic regimes in underdeveloped societies like India, where the overhang of agrarian radicalism is still perceptible, inclines the political behaviours of this country towards violent confrontation. Precisely this is the reason why Asian countries like India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, and certain Latin American countries are prone to political crises. Gandhi was very much aware about this unequal social development, and its possible effect on the system. His seminal declaration, ‘India lives in her villages’, holds true even in the new millennium. After considerable progress in industrialisation and in the phase of unavoidable unavoidabl globalisation, Indian economy has been largely dominated by the primary sector. More than two-thirds of its population depend on agriculture. Therefore, rural development coupled with agrarian reforms is synonymous with Indian development even today. Gandhi and His Practice Gandhi was not merely a charismatic leader of masses, but also a scientific ideologue for societal change and reconstruction. His ‘nonviolent approach’ falls in the realm of science related to social change and progress,3 which is impregnated with social equity, i.e., ‘Sarvodaya and Antyodaya.’ He derived the idea of non-violence from the oral traditions and Buddha; which later became the Gandhian path of social progress. During his struggle in South Africa, Gandhi established ‘Ashrams’, which were the main forms of action and practice to train cadre for social reconstruction. His idea of Ashram as an instrument

Swaraj, Democracy and Subaltern: Regional Dynamics of Agrarian... 433 for social reconstruction and development was influenced by Ruskin’s Unto This Last,4 and “Order of Trappist Monks”, as living example of a micro community living.5 This type of community life was carried out on the basis of voluntary poverty, self-renunciation, and constructive work.6 Gandhi tried to translate this order of the Trappist monks into practice for preparing grounds for social reconstruction. The Phoenix Settlement, which was started in 1904, provided Gandhi an opportunity to launch protest and civil disobedience movement against racial discrimination in South Africa. Indian Opinion, a weekly journal, was considered to be one of the effective measures to educate concerned masses.7 Phoenix Settlement, which was considered as a religious institution, progressed till 1911. The advent of passive resistance widened the horizon of the Phoenix Settlement and made relition a key actor in its running. Passive resistance was the link between the different religions and enabled the followers of the religions to realize their essential unity.8 Gandhi’s protest and civil disobedience movement, which was also known as non-violent passive resistance (later termed as Satyagraha), got wider meaning and coverage there. The Tolstoy Farm, which was established on May 30, 1910, proved to be another experiment for collective consolidation of social forces against the injustice of racial discrimination and for reconstruction of society. In order to continue with practices of community life and social reconstruction, Gandhi started translating his previous experiences through various forms of practices and activities in India as well. He came to India in 1915 with his experience of non-violent struggles and Satyagraha in South Africa, which remained the focal points of his movement—political, social, and religious; thereafter. His first involvement with mass movements in India was the famous ‘Champaran Farmers Movement’, against injustice. This laid the foundation of anti-British struggle, which was subsequently known as the Gandhian movement. In Champaran he courageously defied orders of British Government and became a hero for thousands of people who witnessed his defiance. Gandhi established his first ashram at Kocharab, and later shifted to Sabarmati, Ahmedabad. He launched Satyagrahas, initiated constructive programmes, and adhered to eleven vows—five of Buddha’s teachings together with six others: truth, non-violence, chastity, non-possession, non-stealing, bread labour, control of the palate, fearlessness, equal treatment and respect to all religions, swadeshi, and untouchability for transformation of self and society simultaneously. Main activities in the beginning were: worship, sanitary service, sacrificial spinning, agriculture, dairy, tannery, national education, khadi, technical school, etc. Keeping in view his experiences

434 Swaraj and the Reluctant State in South Africa, he broadened the scope of the Ashram. But, basically this was an Ashram with a middle class ethos with dignity of labour along with religious and moral overtones. This process had twin objectives—cadre building for national freedom movement, and reconstruction of society. The Gandhian way proved to be a pathfinder not only for India but also too many colonised and developing nations of the world. Although India achieved its freedom from the British rule, the task of social reconstruction was and is still an unfinished agenda. Gandhi started many practices to attain a non-violent social order as the goal of his Swaraj, which was poor man’s Swaraj, and was later carried out by the organisations and activists of Gandhian folds. After Gandhi, Vinoba Bhave carried out his unfinished task and took up major issues of society. Similar practices are being carried out across the Indian states by veteran Gandhians, like Manmohan Choudhary, Siddhraj Dhaddha, Thakurdas Bang, Nirmala Deshpande, and others towards reconstruction of villages for Gram Swaraj. Post-Gandhian Social Mobilisation In the post-Gandhian period, Vinoba Bhave emerged as the most important leader of non-violence philosophy for social reconstruction. As the natural leader of Sarvodaya Movement, he established Akhil Bhartiya Sarva Seva Sangh (ABSSS) in 1948. Viewing inequality as the most serious problem, he started a campaign of land gift from Pochampalli in Telangana of Andhra Pradesh for redistribution of land among poor on April 18, 1951. This campaign received wide attention and developed into Bhoodan and Gramdan movement. All the constructive organisations—Charkha Sangh, Talimi Sangh, Khadi and Gramodyog Sangh, Harijan Sevak Sangh, etc. were integrated to work for Bhoodan movement. The basic idea behind this merger was to integrate constructive work programmes with the movement. The hope was that the programmes would then come through the movement, which would in turn sustain for longer periods of time to rebuild society. Bhoodan movement found its origin in the Telangana movement, where poor peasants launched a powerful struggle against landlords on the land question. Vinoba was very much aware of inequality in land distribution and inherent contradictions therein. He took initiatives to resolve this contradiction through his gift campaign, i.e., Bhoodan. Caught up in the coil of armed struggle, landlords were restless to solve this problem at the cost of a few hectares of land. Vinoba succeeded in persuading the poor peasants to agree with landlords to compromise on the issue of land gift. This event provided a clue to Vinoba to resolve the land question through his gift campaign. He then launched a land gift campaign in other parts of the country, the response to which was

Swaraj, Democracy and Subaltern: Regional Dynamics of Agrarian... 435 very encouraging. Gandhians took it as a starting point of non-violent revolution to solve the most complicated land issue of India. They did not see any possibility of initiating any process of non-violent movement other than Bhoodan. This movement was well-received by the people of India. In the conference of ABSSS at Sevapuri, UP, the movement was declared as the movement of ABSSS, and all activists of ABSSS were involved in the movement.9 All other activities were sidelined, which ultimately were allowed to die their natural death. The second phase of Bhoodan was started as Gramdan (gift of village) at Mangroth in UP on April 24, 1952, to devolve ownership of land in the village assembly, ‘Gramdan was the foundation over which the superstructures of khadi and Shanti Sena had to be erected, thus completing the building of Village Swaraj.’10 Gradually this campaign reached the block, district, and state (Bihar) level. The objective of the movement was to establish a Sarvodaya order of direct and participatory democracy, which alone could ensure freedom, equality, and justice to all members of the community.11 Toofan Gramdan (village gift storm) was started to achieve a wider coverage of Gramdan. When the radical posture of BhoodanGramdan reached its stagnation because negotiation and persuasion became very difficult,12 Vinoba launched Sulabh Gramdan (simplified gift) campaign after Raipur Conference of ABSSS in 1963 to attract donors to part with 1/20th of their land for Bhoodan. These campaigns reached their climax in 1969 at Rajgir Conference of ABSSS in Bihar. In this conference Vinoba stopped his direct guidance and involvement in this campaign and asked workers to continue their work on their own. Bhoodan-Gramdan had broadly three phases: Prapti (receipt of gift), Pushti (follow-up for verification), and Nirman (course of reconstruction).13 Most of the Gandhian organisations were actively engaged in constructive works of Gramdan area for village development.14 Bhoodan achieved its historic targets, which could not be found elsewhere in the world.15 Initially it sounded as a panacea for most of the stalwarts of peace movement to resolve the issues of inequality in distribution of land. It was achieved to the extent land was received (quality of land was in question). But the task of distribution of land was given to the government, which caused alienation of both Sarvodaya workers and poor peasants. Beneficiaries were identified by the government agencies, but any inconsistency emerging out of distribution process went to the discredit to Sarvodaya workers. Moreover, the vision of the Pushti and Nirman was yet to be developed adequately among the workers. Therefore, sustaining the BhoodanGramdan movement became difficult even in the lifetime of Vinoba, and he took retreat from Saharsa (Bihar). Later this movement was

436 Swaraj and the Reluctant State reduced to insignificance and now it is not even acknowledged as a measure of land reforms.16 Furthermore, the noble idea of integrating all constructive programmes for Bhoodan and extracting positive results from the movement could not be realised. As a result, effectiveness of the organisation was lost because of discontinuity. Vinoba himself raised many issues related to assessment of the outcome.17 Role Played by the Kisan Sabha and other Political Parties Kisan Sabha was another peasant organisation with Gandhian philosophy, which started a struggle on agrarian issues in the colonial period and continued it in the post-colonial era. In the colonial India, the dominant form of agrarian struggle was launched by Kisan Sabha. Swami Sahajanand Saraswati emerged as its undisputed leader. The very founding of Bihar Provincial Kisan Sabha (BPKS) in 1929 was marked by dropping of proposed Tenancy Amendment Bill. From the very beginning, Sahajanand and his associates not only tried to raise the consciousness of the tenants, 18 but also urged them to resist zamindari oppression and fight for their rights. As a result, there were many demonstrations, rallies and Satyagraha. Some of the famous struggles of BPKS, during this period, were the agitation it launched against Tenancy Bill in 1933, joint peasant-worker action against Dalmia Sugar Factory at Bihta (1938-39), the Bakasht movement19 in Barahiya Tal, Majiawana and Amwari during 1936-38.20 The movement was directed mainly against zamindari oppressions. The most legendary peasant struggles under BPKS were ‘Bakasht Movement’ and ‘Dalmia Sugar Mill Movement’ at Bihta.21 If the former gave evidence of class action by different sections of Bihar peasantry, then the latter was a symbol of worker-peasant unity, which opened the eyes of Sahajanand and his associates to the need for worker-peasant unity.22 It gave an ideological direction to the hitherto spontaneous and sporadic character of peasant movements. Kisan Sabha passed through different stages in the course of its struggle from a spontaneous and unorganised peasant movement to become a well organised and ideologically oriented movement. During the initial stage, its approach was sort of ‘class collaborationist’.23 Soon this thinking got changed, when Kisan Sabha came in direct confrontation with landlords. It was realised by Sahajanand that the agrarian problem could not be solved without solving the problems of agricultural labourers. He asserted that due to depeasantisation it was difficult to draw a line between poor peasants and agricultural labourers. Thus, it was proper to regard agricultural labourers as Kisan too so that both might struggle together. But confusion persisted among its leaders. Even leaders like Rahul Sankritayan argued, ‘Even if agricultural

Swaraj, Democracy and Subaltern: Regional Dynamics of Agrarian... 437 labourers remain labourers, their wage will only go up if the income of the Kisan increases..., I feel that it will be a serious mistake on their part if they enter into quarrels with Kisans just now.’24 Later it was realised by Sahajanand that Kisan Sabha was being used by middle and big cultivators for their own selfish ends.25 However, Kisan Sabha, by and large, did not take note of the contradictions that existed between Kisans (shudra peasants) and Mazdurs (Dalit field servants). The movement was essentially centred on the Kisan’s anti-zamindari struggle. The demand was ‘land to the tenants’ rather than ‘land to the tillers.’ This limitation was not properly recognised by Kisan Sabha leaders. They assumed that ‘anti-zamindari’ was equivalent to ‘land to the tiller.’ There were ‘tillers’, i e, Mazdurs, who were not tenants. They did not stand to benefit from the abolition of zamindari. 26 There was neither any significant struggle to give land to all the tillers, nor any struggle to abolish the system which maintained a class of agricultural labourers in permanent existence. Due to its narrow ends and partial outlook, Kisan Sabha sank into stagnation after zamindari abolition. All India Kisan Sabha sessions were marked by ‘poor attendance’ and the Sabha became ‘tame or inert in a number of states after 1966.’27 Historically speaking, agrarian movements are not a recent phenomenon of Indian society. A number of upsurges erupted during the colonial and post-colonial regime; Telangana liberation struggle, Srikakulam movement, Tebhaga and Bakasht struggles were some of the significant uprisings. Although many parties were formed to guard the interests of the rural poor—beginning from Kisan Sabha, to Khet Mazdur Union led by CPI, Bihar Provincial Khet Mazdur Sabha by Jagjiwan Ram, Khet Mazdur Panchayat by Socialists, All India Khetihar Mazdur Sangha by Congress, Sarvodaya movement etc., yet they all failed to redress the basic economic hardships of the agrarian poor. However, Vinoba Bhave’s Bhoodan was to be the Sarvodaya answer to the Communist challenge on the land problem and was meant to achieve what legislative actions could not do. Although Bhoodan-Gramdan movement generated a social awareness about the agrarian issue in India, but in terms of its announced aims, the movement was an abortive experiment.28 Even Indian Communists rarely accorded sufficient weight to poor peasants and landless labourers in their organisational strategy and revolutionary mobilisation.29 Thus all political parties— Congress, Socialist, and Communist; shared a common predilection, i e, making the widest possible social constituency. This may be a logical corollary of involvement in electoral politics, where political expediency is the primary motive rather than ideological commitment. It is becasue of this violent reality of the countryside that radical ideology and its related movements found propitious grounds in late sixties and early

438 Swaraj and the Reluctant State seventies.30 In the process the agrarian poor came under the ‘political’ and ‘ideological’ the guidance of Naxalite philosophy.31 The maoist movement not only rejects the Indian Parliamentary System, but also uses extra-constitutional means to achieve the People’s Democratic Revolution through People’s War linked to an agrarian programme.32 Radical Agrarian Movement in Bihar The spring thunders (referring to the Naxalbari movement) in West Bengal in 1967 had a significant impact in North Bihar and Chotanagpur33 as well. Maoist movement in Bihar has two phases. During the first phase (1967-71) their presence was marked in North and South Bihar. In the second phase which started in 1973 and still continues the Maoist influence is greater in Central Bihar region, especially in the post-emergency period. Even before formation of CPI (ML), the first Naxalite activity was reported in July 1967 in Thakurganj of Purnea district of North Bihar.34 The first radical agrarian movement under CPI (ML) leadership was started in April 1968 at Gangapur in Muzaffarpur district. Soon Gangapur emerged as a symbol of fighting peasantry.35 Within a short span of time, the movement spread to other parts of North Bihar and Chotanagpur (southern Bihar). Rebels intensified their struggle and carried out attacks in Darbhanga and Saharsa districts, bordering Bihar and Nepal. Their actions often spilled over to Purnea district. During this phase, West Bengal-Bihar Border Regional committee, and BengalBihar-Orissa Border Regional committee were mostly active among the Tribal population. The party had bases among industrial workers as well, especially in Jamshedpur, also known as ‘Little Calcutta’ due to the intensity of the movement. Ranchi and Singhbhum districts were other storm-centres during the early phase of 1970.36 By the end of 1970, all districts of Bihar, barring Bhojpur and Central Bihar, had seen indignant landless peasants and impatient students taking up arms. Between January-July 1970, police arrested 954 Naxalite suspects, the number being highest at 468 in Singhbhum district, followed by Muzaffarpur with 170, Munger 102, and Champaran 88.37 With the direct intervention of the state, revolutionaries changed their tactics—from open confrontation to guerrilla warfare. Landlords and moneylenders continued to be the targets of the revolutionary campaign. 38 Simultaneously large-scale operations and arrests of rebels followed. On November 4, 1970, about 400 military-police personnel launched an operation in Munger district, where seven big landlords and moneylenders had been killed earlier. By January 1971, state forces had thrown about 1,500 CPI (ML) alleged activists behind bars, out of which 200 were from Jamshedpur alone, where the party was trying to build

Swaraj, Democracy and Subaltern: Regional Dynamics of Agrarian... 439 its units among the workers.39 But the first phase of the movement petered out in just three years, due to strategical mistakes and crackdowns by the mighty state forces. Failure of the First Phase: Its Causes By the end of 1971, the first phase of the movement came to an early end. The essential condition for success of radical movements is the rapid expansion of the base and the fighting force of the revolutionaries. But CPI (ML) failed to advance beyond initial stages, i.e., stages of ‘annihilation’ of class enemies, collection of firearms, and formation of guerrilla squads. Even so its influence was confined to a few pockets of power. During the peak period the revolutionary ranks of CPI (ML) failed to create long-term dents both in the northern and plateau regions of the state. Even before the struggle could reach the higher stage CPI (ML) became riddled with mutually fighting factions and its ranks found themselves gradually isolated from the people. Charu Mazumdar’s sacrosanct position of revolutionary authority and his intolerant bureaucratic behaviour put an end to all possibilities of collective decision-making in the light of criticisms and exchange of experiences.40 This inner-party struggle at all India level had a profound impact upon the struggle in Bihar too, which weakened the movement from within. Finally, the state not only augmented the police force to quell revolutionary outbursts, but also empowered the police, the CRPF and the BSF with a raft of tyrannical laws. Thus, in the face of the imperfect development of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) and a naïve understanding of military strength of the Indian state, the movement crumbled. The first phase of the movement can be summed up as a phase of establishing that ideology of overthrowing the ruling classes by the poor and landless peasants through armed guerrilla warfare.41 Second Phase of the Movement Central and South Central region of Bihar witnessed the second phase of the radical agrarian movement from 1973 onwards. In the postemergency period, the movement was centred around Central Bihar.42 Bhojpur started sending green signals to Naxalism as early as in 1973, when the movement was petering out in other areas. Ekwari was the starting point, but a bitter peasant-police encounter at Chauri village transformed Bhojpur from the ‘Haryana’ of Bihar to the ‘Naxalbari’ of the state.43 The year 1974 marked an upswing in Naxalite activities and ‘encounters’ took place more frequently. In 1974, 80 cases were recorded compared to 8, 7 and 10 in 1971, 1972 and 1973 respectively. But 1975 was the bloodiest year in Bhojpur. Peasant-police encounters left a

440 Swaraj and the Reluctant State lingering trail of blood in the district. By 1975, 9 out of 16 blocks of Bhojpur were deeply penetrated by the Maoists.44 The Bihar police along with the CRPF started village to village campaigns to liquidate the revolutionaries. After proclamation of National Emergency, military and paramilitary forces were given a free hand to quell insurgency. The government launched a massive repressive onslaught named ‘Operation Thunder’ in May 1976.45 Most of the first crop of local leaders—Jagdish Mahto, Rameshwar Ahir and Chamku Musahar were killed, and leaders like Prabhu Harijan and Rameshwar Dusadh were detained. Another important reason for disintegration of the movement was the emergence of well-knit landlord syndicates, which terrorised peasants into submission and thereby cut off potential sources of recruits for the movement.46 Due to these reasons the Maoists suffered serious losses. The movement continued despite heavy odds, but gradually lost much of its momentum by 1976. In the wake of lifting of the black curtain of emergency, Bihar saw a veritable upheaval of peasant unrest. The period 1977-80 was marked by the emergence of a host of local-level mass organisations: Bihar Pradesh Kisan Sabha (BPKS), Mazdur Kisan Sangharsha Samiti (MKSS), Indian People’s Front (IPF), etc. With the formation of these organisations, the radical movement witnessed an unprecedented upsurge that shook the plains of Central Bihar. By early 1980s, the Maoist movement engulfed 52 blocks in the entire state, of which 41 were located in 7 contiguous districts of Central Bihar.47 The intensity and magnitude of the movement took many people by surprise, and the whole region came to be known as ‘the Flaming Fields of Bihar.’48 Bihar the one of the most populous states of India is economically the most backward and has one of the lowest growth rates in the country. In this stagnation syndrome, Central Bihar districts have performed a little better in terms of socio-economic development, as compared to other two regions of the state—North Bihar and Chotanagpur. Green revolution made its partial impact and agriculture was becoming progressively market-oriented. The rate of literacy and the scheduled caste population are higher in the region. Urbanisation is also pronounced.49 Central Bihar plains are popularly known as ‘Haryana’ of Bihar, due to its higher economic development. Apparently this produces a paradoxical situation in the sense that, Central Bihar instead of experiencing relative social tranquillity is frequently convulsed with agrarian struggle, inspired by Maoist ideology, for economic and social emancipation. The above socio-economic characteristics of the region baffle one, vis-à-vis, the protracted Maoist movement in the area. One wonders as to how ‘Haryana’ of Bihar has turned into a ‘Naxalbari’ of

Swaraj, Democracy and Subaltern: Regional Dynamics of Agrarian... 441 the state. Its journey from Haryana to Naxalbari has many interesting and sociologically significant factors to be explored. Roots of the Movement and Crisis of Nationalism The radical movement in Central Bihar region brought forward many subdued contradictions and controversies within Indian democratic system. For example, we have the contradiction between popular goals and constitutionalism, and between revolutionary struggle and parliamentary struggle within Indian Communist movement, and the crisis of democratic political culture, etc. Socio-Cultural Changes Social oppression and erosion of dignity of poor peasants were fairly widespread and acute in Central Bihar.50 Trampling upon the dignity of agricultural labourers formed part of everyday interaction between Maliks and Mazdoors. This ranges from Dalits not being allowed to wear clean shirts or wrist watches and living in pucca houses, and being subjected to abduction, rape and inhumane customs like Dola, which makes it obligatory for Dalit brides to spend their wedding night with the local malik.51 But due to the rising level of literacy, together with modern exposure to the world outside Bihar, and due to external proletarianisation, a new spirit of confidence and social awareness emerged in the region. Restoration of dignity of lower caste people is one of the major issues of the current struggle.52 It is interesting to note that most of the cadres of the ongoing movement are drawn from these poor and lower caste peasant ranks. In the areas where the Maoist movement is strong, the above forms of social oppression have become explicit issues. Resistance is a political act that questions arbitrary exercise of power by maliks. Senior members of district administration of the region have admitted that the left wing organisation have done much to force elements among maliks to end their sexual depredations.53 Changes in the Economic Structure In Central Bihar, Intensive Agricultural Development Programme (IADP) was launched as early as in 1960s, due to widespread access to irrigation and higher soil fertility. Bhojpur was the first district where agriculture was modernised through construction of ‘Sone Canal’ system in the nineteenth century. 54 Modernisation and commercialisation of agriculture led to two consequences—increasing differentiation among peasantry, and depeasantisation at the lowest level. Most of the displaced peasants were forced into the process of external proletarianisation to be exposed to the more modern non-rural

442 Swaraj and the Reluctant State world. Modern market forces not only weakened traditional ‘PatronClient’ relationship, which has been gradually replaced by contractual relationship, but also released toiling masses to be exposed to the revolutionary culture under Maoist groups.55 Statutory minimum wage is one of the most important issues of the radical movement in the region. In many parts of Central Bihar wages were very low; albeit it varied from place to place, depending upon organised strength of the dominant caste (s), and effectiveness of Maoist groups, on the other side.56 Money as well as real wages started rising since late seventies. Rise in real wages has been more pronounced since early eighties. Maoist organisations have played a decisive role in this direction. 57 District administration of Gaya and Jehanabad acknowledged this fact while talking to the People’s Union for Democratic Rights (PUDR) team, ‘Though cultivator’s remuneration was protected by the state legislations, they did not have any effective means of implementing them.’58 Administration’s helplessness is a manifestation of institutional crisis, which in turn, is the strength of Maoist movement. Agriculture is main economic activity in central Bihar region. Here 82 per cent of working population depend upon the primary sector. Although large landowners are rare in this region, 90 per cent of rural households own less than 5 acres of land or are landless.59 With the impact of the green revolution, the dominant castes have brought more and more common and wastelands under their plough. On the other side, land-hungry landless labourers have launched powerful struggles to seize illegal possession of gair mazarua land by powerful maliks. Jan Mukti Morcha, a Maoist front, seized 616 acres of such land from June 28 June to July 5 1993 in Panki block of Palamau district alone. Maoist Communist Centre (MCC) has seized 4500 acres of gair mazarua land in Gaya district, and 1,000 acres in Nawada district in the first half of 1993, along with IPF.60 In fact, monthly official periodicals of the dominant Maoist parties are full of such cases. District administration of the region admitted, ‘Force is essential for any land distribution effort.’61 This is another case of a democratic institutional crisis and use of extraconstitutional force to implement just and democratic measures. Political Threat Changes in socio-economic spheres have an resultant impact on the political structure of the region. Subjugation of toiling masses is very important to ensure electoral malpractices by the dominant castes, an effective mechanism to win elections in Bihar. The entry of Indian People’s Front (IPF) in the domain of electoral politics has not only challenged the hitherto domination of dominant castes/classes, but has

Swaraj, Democracy and Subaltern: Regional Dynamics of Agrarian... 443 also raised consciousness of the marginalised masses. The Maoist groups launched their campaigns during elections not only to minimise electoral malpractices, but also to ensure that poor and Dalits get a fair chance to exercise their democratic rights.62 Dalits and landless labourers have been traditionally kept out of electoral process and have been marginalised by the actual functioning of institutions of parliamentary democracy. However, IPF’s electoral effort resulted in the election of a member of parliament in 1989. In 1990 Bihar assembly elections, IPF won 7 seats, and was second in 14 constituencies, and in 20 constituencies its candidates were third. The biggest achievement of the success of IPF was the ‘Vote Itself.’ It was seen ultimately to be an ‘empowering act’.63 Miscarriage of developmental models initiated by both—Kanoon (Legislative measures) and Karuna (Gandhian way) together with the crisis of democratic institutions, and subsequent development of radical assertiveness of the toiling masses, was not an isolated case of Bihar agrarian structure, but was an outcome of the changes in the agrarian social formation of India. This process is manifested in other parts of the country, though the form they take may not be exactly the same; the structural impulses are however similar. In order to understand the crisis, one should analyse the relationship between a democratic polity and strategy for socio-economic development initiated by the state since 1947, and an increasing diversion towards extra-parliamentary populist mobilisation. The Maoist movement revolves around basic issues— statutory minimum wages, redistribution of surplus and gair mazarua khas land, izzat (prestige) of rural poor, and the quest of marginalised masses to participate in electoral process, for socio-economic and political emancipation, which is the fundamental duty of a democratic system. Indian Constitution, in principle, is committed to the doctrine of socio-economic and political justice to every Indian citizen. It is the basic duty of the Indian state to preserve and assure the equality of opportunity and dignity of every individual, and furthers ‘participatory development.’ Promotion and protection of these basic rights, especially of the downtrodden section of society, assures political and social stability and peace in the country. In the process of globalisation, three societal pillars—state, market, and civil society have assumed new roles. It is a widely accepted view that the state is rolling back, and has become a coercive agent. Gandhi recognised this seminal truth, and advocated that the state should govern with the consent of the people, which would be a ‘consensual state’ and not a ‘coercive state’.64 Now market is occupying the space vacated by the shrinking state with the sole intention of material incentives and profit motives. Hegemony of market is characterised by

444 Swaraj and the Reluctant State rapacity and prompted by greed. Civil society has a major role to play, in the space between the market and the state. NGOs and even media are not above reproach and beyond blemish. The emerging powerful middle class has to take up the major responsibility for social reconstruction, with Gandhian zeal of altruism and self-restraint. If at all there is social commitment to establish a non-violent social order, there is the urgent need to mobilise the masses for mass struggles. JP expressed his view, ‘The only remedy seems to be for the people to take their fate in their own hands and shape it according to their will.’65 It is through people’s struggle alone that ‘participatory democracy’ can be established, where ‘democracy for the people and not people for democracy’66 will be the order. This people oriented democracy will work as the means to achieve Gandhi’s dream to establish a ‘progressive non-violent egalitarian social order.’ Unless the above democratic measures and constitutional promises are practically ensured by the Indian state and civil society, the flaming fields cannot be extinguished by sheer force and shrewd manoeuvring. NOTES AND REFERENCES 1. Bury, J.B., The Idea of Progress, Dover Edition, New York, 1955. 2. Galtung, J., Conflict Transformation by Peaceful Means: The Transcend Method, United Nations, Geneva, 2000. 3. Gandhi, M.K., Satyagraha in South Africa, Uttar Pradesh Gandhi Smarak Nidhi, Varanasi, 1967, also ‘Ladaie Ka Arth’, Indian Opinion, January 23, 1909. 4. Gandhi, M.K., An Autobiography, Navajivan Publishing House, Ahmedabad, 1927, p. 250. 5. The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, Vol. 1, Publications Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, New Delhi, p. 224. 6. Thomson, Mark, Gandhi and His Ashrams, Popular Prakashan, Bombay, 1993, pp. 38-39. 7. Gandhi, M.K., Satyagraha in South Africa, Navajivan Publishing House, Ahmedabad, 1928, p. 131. 8. Gandhi, M.K., Ashram Observances in Action, Navajivan Publishing House, Ahmedabad, 1955 p. 4. 9. Rahi, R.C., (mimeo.), Bhoodan Gramdan Andolan: Sambhavnaon aur Seemaon Ki Ek Kahani, in Hindi, Sarva Seva Sangh, Varanasi, 1977. 10. Choudhary, Manmohan, Freedom for the Masses, Navachetna Prakashan, Varanasi, 1970, p. 66. 11. Deo, Shankarrao, Gramdan Movement, Onward March: A Turning-Point, Bombay, n.d., p. 1. 12. Ibid., p. 3. 13. Deo, Shankarrao, op cit, p. 6.

Swaraj, Democracy and Subaltern: Regional Dynamics of Agrarian... 445 14. Choudhary, Manmohan, op cit, p. 29. 15. For statistical figures see, Chandra, Nirmal, Bhoomi Samasya aur Bhoodan, Gandhi Peace Foundation, New Delhi, 1997, p. 98. 16. Gangrade, K.D., “Bhoodan-Gramdan: Revolution Through Love”, Journal of Peace and Gandhian Studies, April-June, 1997, pp. 93-95. 17. For detail see, Bhave, Vinoba, Science and Self-knowledge, Sarva Seva Sangh, Varanasi, 2000, p. 10. 18. Das, A.N., Agrarian Unrest and Socio-Economic Change in Bihar, 1900-1980, Manohar Publications, New Delhi, 1983, p. 44. 19. Due to Bakasht rent tenants were losing their land in lieu of rent arrears to zamindars, because of increasing rent burden. Thus the process of depeasantisation was on, for detail see Bihar Legislative Assembly Proceedings, Vol. IV, Part I, January 16 – March 15, 1939. 20. Sankrityayana, Rahul, Meri Jeevan Yatra, Kitab Mahal, Allahabad, 1950, (in Hindi). 21. For detail of these two movements, see Das, A.N., op cit, pp. 131-36. 22. Saraswati, Sahajanand, The Origin and Growth of the Kisan Movement in India, Sri Sitaram Ashram, Bihta, unpublished manuscript, 1952, p. 455. 23. Saraswati, Sahajanand, Meera Jeevan Sangharsha, Sri Sitaram Ashram, Bihta, unpublished manuscript, 1952, p. 75. 24. Sankrityayana, Rahul, Dimagi Gulami, Kitab Mahal, Allahabad, 1937, pp. 70-73, (Hindi). 25. Saraswati, Sahajanand, Presidential Address, Eighth Session of the All India Kisan Sabha, Beywada, 14-15 March, A.N. Sinha Institute of Social Studies, Patna, Unpublished, 1944, pp. 14-15. 26. Rasul, M.A., A History of the All India Kisan Sabha, National Book Agency, Calcutta, 1974, pp. 57-59. 27. Ibid., pp. 180, 212, 219. 28. Oommen, T.K., Charisma, Stability and Change: An Analysis of BhoodanGramdan Movement in India, Thompson Press, Delhi, 1972. 29. Gopalan, A.K., ‘Strengthen the Kisan Sabha’, Presidential Address at the 19th Session of AIKS at Madurai from January 26-28, People’s Democracy, Vol. 4, No. 6, 1968, p. 5, also see, Communist Party of India, Draft for the Ideological Discussion, Central Committee, Madurai, August, 18-27, 1967, p. 220. 30. Sengupta, Nirmal, ‘Agrarian Movements in Bihar’, in Das, A.N. (ed.), Agrarian Movements in India: Studies on 20th Century Bihar, Frank Cass, London, 1982a, p. 33. 31. Naxalite form Naxalbari—a police station under Siliguri sub-division in Darjeeling district of West Bengal, from where the Maoist movement started. 32. Banerjee, S., India’s Simmering Revolution: The Naxalite Uprising, Selectbook Service Syndicate, New Delhi, 1984, pp. ii-iii. 33. Now a separate state called Jharkhand. 34. The Indian Nation, Patna, July 1 & 6, 1967. 35. Banerjee, S., op cit, p. 205. 36. Ibid., p. 288.

446 Swaraj and the Reluctant State 37. Sinha, A., ‘Violence Against the Poor’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XIII, No. 15, Bombay, 9 April 1977, p. 270. 38. Communist Party of India (M-L), Liberation, Calcutta, October 1969, p. 35. 39. Banerjee, S., In The Wake of Naxalbari: A History of the Naxalite Movement in India, Subarnarekha, Calcutta, 1980, p. 228. 40. Ibid., pp. 356-57. 41. Banerjee, S., 1984, op cit, p. 356. 42. Central Bihar lies south of Ganges and north of plateau region (Jharkhand) of the state. It consists of ten districts—Patna, Nalanda, Nawada, Rohtas, Bauxar, Kaimur, Bhojpur, Gaya, Jehanabad, and Aurangabad. In the current phase, movement is intense in Palamu, Hazaribagh, Giridih and Dhanbad of Jharkhand state as well. 43. Sinha, B.N., ‘From Naxalbari to Ekwari.’ The Searchlight, Patna, 11-13 June 1975. 44. Mukherjee, K., and Kala, M., ‘Bhojpur: The Long War’, Mainstream, 16 (4546), July 8, 15, 1978. 45. Kala, M. and Maharaj, R.N., ‘Peasant Unrest in Bhojpur: A Survey’, in Desai, A.R. (ed.), Agrarian Struggles in India After Independence, Oxford University Press, New Delhi, 1986, p. 257. 46. Ibid. 47. Communist Party of India (M-L), Document, Report from the Flaming Fields of Bihar, Prabodh Bhattacharya, Calcutta, 1986, pp. 62-63. 48. Ibid., p. 24. 49. Gupta, S., ‘Socio-Economic Roots of Peasants Movement in Central Bihar’, Science and People, Vol. 1, No. 2, Joshi Adhikari Institute of Social Studies, New Delhi, 1990, p. 7. 50. Kala, M. and Maharaj, R.N., op cit, p. 258. 51. Ibid., pp. 253 and 258. 52. Gupta, S., op cit, p. 53. 53. People’s Union for Democratic Rights (PUDR), Bitter Harvest, Harish Dhawan, Delhi, August, 1992, p. 17. 54. Gupta, S., op cit, p. 53. 55. Shukadeb, N. and Jairath, V.K., ‘Ceremonial Friendship Patron–Client Relationship and Class Formation among the Bhuyian Tribals of Orissa’, in Karna, M.N. (ed.), Peasant and Peasant Protest in India, Intellectual Publishing House, New Delhi, 1989, p. 78. 56. PUDR, op cit, pp. 9-10. 57. Sharma, Alakh, N., ‘Backwardness Trap of Bihar Agriculture’, in Gupta, S. and Sharma, A.N. (eds.), Bihar: Stagnation or Growth, Spectrum Publishing House, Delhi, 1987, p. 16. 58. PUDR, op cit, p. 16. 59. Ibid., p. 24. 60. The Hindustan Times, August 2, Patna, 1993. 61. PUDR, op cit, p. 16. 62. Ahmed, Faizan, Telegraph, April 17, Calcutta, 1991. 63. Bharti, Indu, ‘Mobilisation of Agricultural Labour: Jehanabad Experience’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. XXV, No. 22, 5-12 May, 1990, pp. 980-

Swaraj, Democracy and Subaltern: Regional Dynamics of Agrarian... 447 981. 64. Oommen, T.K., ‘Bringing Gandhi back into Independent India’, Gandhi Marg, Vol. 28, No. 4, January-March, Gandhi Peace Foundation, New Delhi, 2007, p. 441. 65. Narain, Jai Prakash, Swaraj for the People, Sarva Seva Sangh, Varanasi, 1977, p. 52. 66. Diwakar, D.M., ‘Non-violent Social Mobilisation and Social Reconstruction’, Gandhi Marg, Vol. 23, No. 1, April-June, Gandhi Peace Foundation, New Delhi, 2001, p. 83.

24 The Politics and Poetics of Violence: The State and Marginalisation in Kashipur and Kalinganagar Rajakishor Mahana A critical engagement with everyday life ethnography needs analysis not only of localised politics but also of internalised feelings. Here we need to discuss not only about contested development, the damage or gains in industrialising the countryside, but also about the embodying memories and energising spirits, the impact on the life-world and the bodily suffering and the moral reorientation of the people affected. A bridging connection between ruin or development with social suffering or healing, with everyday forms of resistance or celebration of existence needs to be established. It also needs to be understood by what mechanisms does embodied individual experience gets treated as social suffering. How does this pain and suffering affect the life-world of the indigenous people? Do they passively receive suffering as destined? Whether or not pain and suffering destroy the capacity of the Tribals to voice their problems (Scarry 1985, cf. Farmer 1998)? Or whether it strengthens body, and ‘creates a moral community out of those who have suffered’ (Das 1995: 176) and produces knowledge and power that prepares the people for a better life/better future? Is there any probability of the voice of the voiceless to be heard and honoured within the existing framework of deconstructive practice? (cf. Das 1995). Addressing some of these questions, the paper presents the internalised feelings of the Tribals of Kashipur and Kalinganagar on the eve of state violence in creating space for industrialisation. In the process, the paper critiques the politics of development of the state and the market while assessing the resistance of the Tribals as survival instinct. The paper argues, however, that violence as a discursive process produces new meanings and practices for the Tribals to challenge the state hegemony. In spite of considerable theoretical sophistication and their contribution to the expanding of the definition of resistance, the resistance studies are severely limited by the ethnographic perspective,

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 449 what Sherry Ortner calls ‘ethnographic refusal’. She argues: ‘Resistance studies are thin because they are ethnographically thin: thin on the internal politics of dominated groups, thin on the cultural richness of those groups, and thin on the subjectivity—the intentions, desires, fears, projects—of the actors engaged in these dreams’ (Ortner 1995: 190). This is because perhaps there is a tendency ‘to romanticise resistance, to read all forms of resistance as signs of the ineffectiveness of systems of power and of the resilience and creativity of the human spirit in its refusal to be dominated’ and as resistance studies ‘are ultimately more concerned with finding resistors and explaining resistance than with examining power, they do not explore as fully as they might the implications of the forms of resistance they locate’ (Abu-Lughod 1990: 42, 41). Analysis of resistance in this way limits itself to appreciate the different forms of resistance and forecloses certain questions about how power operates. Building on Lila Abu-Lughod, I propose a small theoretical shift in the way we study resistance, a small change that bears serious analytical consequences. I propose to study, as she does, resistance as a ‘diagnostic of power’ (Abu-Lughod 1990: 42). In this, I take a cue from Foucault’s analytics of power and resistance, though he is complex and ambiguous in this regard. Particularly, I build on one of his central, but controversial, assertions advanced in his most explicit discussion of power, in the first volume of The History of Sexuality, that ‘where there is power, there is resistance’ (1978: 95). Whatever else this declaration may mean, but certainly Foucault challenges us to question our understanding of power as always and essentially repressive. Deromanticising the twentiethcentury sexual revolution, he argues that power is something which not just works negatively, by forbidding, restricting, prohibiting, or repressing, but also positively and productively, by producing forms of pleasure, systems of knowledge, goods, and discourses. Limiting negative power, he clearly states the productive perspective of power in the following words: ‘What makes power hold good, what makes it accepted, is simply the fact that it doesn’t only weigh on us as a force that says ‘No’, but that it traverses and produces things, it induces pleasure, forms knowledge, produces discourse’ (1980: 119). But his stance on resistance is more ambiguous (see 1980: 142). Despite his constant attempts to show that resistance is always tied to power, he occasionally implies the persistence of some residual freedom (1982: 225). To complete his confrontational assertion, which some have looked upon as a point of pessimism, he further adds that, ‘Where there is power, there is resistance, and yet, or rather consequently, this resistance is never in a position of exteriority in relation to power’ (1978: 95). This

450 Swaraj and the Reluctant State is more insightful and provocative. But to appreciate its significance more, one needs to invert the first part of the assertion that gives us institutively sensible promise: ‘Where there is resistance, there is power’. This is less problematic and potentially more useful in ethnographic analysis because it enables us for a shift from abstract theories of power to methodological strategies for the study of different forms of power in various locations. Arguing for this inversion, Foucault himself writes that we can use ‘resistance as a chemical catalyst so as to bring to light power relations, locate their position, find out their point of application and the methods used’ (1982: 211). Instead of considering all sorts of resistance as nontrivial, I would study resistance strategically to know more about the forms of power and how people generate power from resistance. In short, looking beyond the binary of resistance and domination, this study reinstates resistance as more than opposition and truly creative and transformative by appreciating the multiplicity of forms that resistance takes with, ‘the multiplicity of projects in which social beings are always engaged, and the multiplicity of ways in which those projects feed on as well as collide with one another’ (Ortner 1995: 191). Exploring resistance movements among the Tribals of Kashipur of Rayagada district and Kalinganagar of Jajpur district in Orissa, and taking my cue from it, I would trace the workings of social power through rich, complex and sometimes contradictory details of resistance. Through the study of these complex and contradictory forms of resistance, I want also to trace how the relations of power have historically transformed, particularly with the introduction of different forms and techniques of power characterised by modern state and capitalist economy. Importantly, this study helps us to understand the ways in which the complex and conflicting structures of power work together in Tribal communities that are becoming gradually ‘non-local’. The Politics of Violence The suffering of the people started no sooner the company arrived in the area. Much before the actual commencement of the project, the news of company’s arrival in the area had traumatise the Tribals. He was sure by then that he would be alienated from his native home, land and relatives. His land would be taken away by the company, his house would be dismantled and his land, mountain and the forest will be destroyed. The very thought of where he would go and how he would survive was killing him day and night. As soon as the company Utkal Alumina International Ltd. (UAIL) in Kashipur and Tata in Kalinganagar got their provisional clearances from the Government of Orissa (GOO), they started their work. But the people were never taken

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 451 into confidence, perhaps they were not considered as worthy of a dialogue, ever since the GOO decided to transform this backward forest Tribal tracts into an industrial hub of Orissa. The people’s reaction to the early ventures, which came in the first phase, therefore, was spontaneous and largely guided by survival instinct. Initial People’s Response Mostly Guided by Survival Instinct UAIL began its survey work in Kashipur in 1993. The company started its survey of land, dongar, people, cattle and everything. They cleared lands by destroying standing crops wherever they needed. Though the people were very upset to see their crops destroyed, nobody dared to fight against the company and to drive them away. Bhagaban Majhi of Kucheipadar village says, ‘Initially, we had no plan of opposing the company. Rather we thought that the company would come up here and we have to vacate the place. Thus, some of our people travelled as far as Nabarangpur Reserve Forest area, to which place a few of our people had migrated and settled earlier, to find a suitable place for us to resettle our village. And they found the Reserve Forest area was suitable. Our cultural ritual practices regarding the selection of a land for the purpose of settlement of a village proved the land suitable...’ In the meanwhile, a team of 18 members from Kashipur met the Chief Minister on November 11, 1993 demanding to know about the impact and implication of mining for the local community. They also wrote many letters to many higher officials including the Prime Minister and the President of India. Not getting any response form any concerned official, Kucheipadar village restricted entry of UAIL vehicles into the area from the year 1994. Akhil Saunta, an MLA of the then ruling Janata Dal, is from the village Kucheipadar. Antaram Majhi, the opponent Congress leader, is also from this village who contested against Akhil Saunta in election and got defeated. Antaram Majhi called a village meeting. He tried his best to make people understand about the impact of industrialisation on their lives and proposed to oppose the establishment of the company at any cost. He said: See my brothers, we are Adivasi people. We are farmers. We cannot survive without agriculture. Land is essential for us. How do we survive if our land will be taken away? We are living happily with our customs, traditions, festivals and festivities. We live in harmony with nature. Company is coming here. It will take our land. It will destroy/blast our dongar. All our resources will be snatched away from us. Even our gods and goddesses will be thrown away. Their abode will be destroyed. Everything will be ruined. Our land, water, air and minerals will be taken away. Our culture, traditions, identity and livelihood will perish. And we

452 Swaraj and the Reluctant State will be eliminated from the earth. So, we have to take some countermeasures. For our survival, we will have to fight and we will not allow the company to be established here. (Note: The word ‘donger’ means hills, particularly a patch of hills where shifting cultivation is practised.)

The villagers were angry with the company people as the latter were destroying their crops. Therefore, the villagers came to a consensus with Antaram that they could not survive without their land. And, hence, they decided to fight against the company. The meeting got over. It was next day morning. All the villagers armed with sticks, axes, bows and arrows attacked the company people. There was a fight. The Tribals beat up some of the company people and destroyed some of the company property. Cases were filed by the company against the people of Kucheipadar. After a few days, many people were arrested. The people of Kucheipadar gheraoed the police station and released their people. Later the police arrested some of the leaders namely Maharaja Majhi and Gurunath Majhi of Kucheipadar on April 23, 1995. The movement continued. Antaram Majhi did not return to the village for many days and stayed in Tikiri, the nearest town. Bhagaban says: ‘Antaram Majhi was not much popular in the area and especially the company had never taken notice of him. Akhil Saunta as an MLA of the ruling party was known to the company and people. After this incident, the company came to know Antaram as a leader. I do not know whether the company offered him money or whether he accepted, but he became silent.’ Time rolled on. The Tribals of Kucheipadar continued their protest against the company with support from other people’s movements of the state. The assembly election was ahead. Antaram Majhi was planning to contest in the election against Akhil Saunta. Antaram came to his village, Kucheipadar. He was given royal treatment in Kucheipadar as villagers thought that he was with the people to fight against the company. He promised to the people, ‘My brothers, you see, I have no power in my hand. Had I been in power, I would have driven away the company by writing a letter to the Government.’ The tenure of Akhil Saunta got over. Time for election came. Antaram contested against Akhil Saunta for the MLA’s post and won the election. Soon after, he supported the company and never paid any attention to people’s grievances against the company. Almost, he never returned to the village. People lost faith in him. On February 14, 1996, Prakrutik Suraksha Sampad Parisad (PSSP) —The Council for Protection of Natural Resources—was formed in Kucheipadar at a gathering of more than ten thousand people. A leader of Kucheipadar village, Krushna Saunta—an under-matriculate who

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 453 was working as a Group D government employee in MI (Irrigation) Office, Rayagada—was selected as its head, the President. Along with Krushna, two other leaders from Kucheipadar namely, Maharaja Majhi and Laxman Majhi—both school teachers—gave strong support to the movement. They worked for the movement day and night. Mostly, they moved from village to village at night protecting themselves from the police, the company goons and government employees. Gradually, many villagers supported the movement. The andolankaris (the people who support the movement) snatched away many equipments of the company people, raided the company on many nights and burnt many temporary tents of the company. Many times the people threatened and tortured the survey workers of the company and seized their equipment. Many cases were filed against the people and many were arrested. Krushna Saunta, Maharaja Majhi and Laxman Majhi got suspended from their respective jobs. Later, Maharaja and Laxman rejoined in their jobs, but Krushna never did. He became a full-time andolankari. One day, a group of people from Norway came for some survey work. They were passing through the village Kucheipadar. As the villagers of Kucheipadar were always on guard against the company’s people, a few villagers opposed them. The news reached the villagers. In no time, people from different villages gathered. Of the group, the villagers arrested three foreigners and some company workers followed them to the village. The villagers asked the foreigners about the purpose of their visit. The accompanying company workers made the conversation possible by translating each other’s language. Finally, the villagers forced the foreigners to give them a written agreement that they would not come to the area any more. They agreed to it. On another day, there was a ministerial programme in Kashipur. Chief Minister Naveen Patnaik and Ramakrushna Pattnaik were present. One after the other they were giving speeches about the company and Kashipur’s development. Krushna Saunta told me that he was present at the meeting and got angry after listening to the speeches. He went straight to the dais and snatched away a mic and started his speech: ‘We have heard you enough. We have been listening to you on television, radio and through news-papers. How much will we listen to you? So, you listen to us now....’ Many such incidents happened. Almost all the villages in and around the area supported the movement. People from outside also joined and encouraged the movement. Land acquisition for the UAIL began in June 1996. The local administration used all possible force, coercion and threats to get people’s signatures on the necessary documents and accept compensation. On September 9, 1996, the PSSP organised a public

454 Swaraj and the Reluctant State meeting and demonstration by ten thousand people in front of the UAIL office in Tikiri protesting against land acquisition and establishment of the mining project. In July 1997, the company started its construction work for the Resettlement Colony near Dom Karol village. The PSSP organised protests and demonstration on August 10, 1997 and the construction work was discontinued for a while. Many false cases were filed against the PSSP supporters. Again, a protest march was organised by the PSSP in Tikiri on November 23, 1997 where more than 5,000 people joined to demand the withdrawal of the UAIL from Kashipur. On January 5, 1998, company vehicles tried to push through the road blockade put by the PSSP, with the help of the police. As the people gathered in protest, the police lathicharged and fired tear gas shells at the crowd, injuring 12 women and 34 men. In the meanwhile, again election time came. Bibhisana Majhi, a leader of the movement, contested for MLA’s election from Bharatiya Janata Dal. As a leader of the movement, he won the election defeating the former two MLAs. But once in power, Bibhisana Majhi also forgot his promise to protest against the establishment of the company. From January 11-18, 1999, a high level team of retired bureaucrats of Government of India visited Kashipur to assess the socio-economic impact of the mining on people. The committee recommended that the police cases filed against the leaders should be withdrawn and the Government should start a constructive dialogue with the local Tribal communities (Das and Das 2006: 45). Late in that year, an All Party Committee (APC) was formed consisting of all political parties – Biju Janata Dal (BJD), Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and the Congress Party under the leadership of Bibhisan Majhi to support UAIL’s endeavour in Kashipur. APC visited Kashipur, organised meetings and tried to convince people in favour of the company. Its endeavour in promoting mining in Kashipur failed to yield much result as the people could sense that APC was working for the company. The people got disappointed with the Committee. On the other hand, the people never sat silently. They were planning for a big protest and demonstration to put forth their demands to the government. The PSSP decided to organise a road blockade at Rafkana junction on December 20, 2000. By now the movement had picked up momentum getting active support from the people not only of Kashipur but also Laxmipur, and Dashamantpur areas. Also, a few outside activists were giving their full-time support to the movement. On December 15, 2000, the PSSP called a preparatory meeting at Maikanch village to decide on the logistics and the techniques of protest and demonstration. The meeting was in progress with participation of about 5,000 people.

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 455 The APC was apprehensive about the road blockade and planned to make the road blockade futile. So, the APC called a public meeting on the same day at Nuagaon, the neighbouring village of Maikanch. The members of the APC including the District BJD President, Bhaskar Rao, and a local elite, Krushna Mohapatra, along with company supporters and hired goons went to Nuagaon through Kucheipadar, the place where the PSSP was organising its meeting. Realising their intention, the andolankaris opposed them at Kucheipadar and asked the APC, ‘We are fighting to save our land, water, forest and livelihood. Why are you standing in our way?’ The enraged people opposed their vehicles, threw stones and punched some of them. The members of the APC and the company supporters returned after being wounded. The meeting got over. In anticipation of retaliation from the offended powerful leaders, all the people who attended the meeting halted that night in Kucheipadar. The male folk took refuge in the near by hills leaving the women, children and the aged in the village. The next day, was December 16, 2000. It was around 1 pm. Two police vans and five/six jeeps loaded with three platoons (about 100 troops) of Orissa Special Armed Police Force armed with SLR guns and Orissa Reserve Police Force armed with rifles and big lathis reached Maikanch and surrounded Jhodia sahi (hamlet) from all directions. By that time, all male folk of the village had retreated to the nearby hills and jungles. The heavy boot sounds and Subash Swain’s (Rayagada Circle Inspector of Police) roaring brought the women in front of the police. ‘Dudheswar Jhodia, Prakash Jhodia, Subash Naik, Prabhudan Naik... motherfuckers come out. Nobody can save you today. I have the firing order...’—Subash Swain shanted at the top of his voice. A few women came out to respond, ‘No male member is available in the village...If you have something to tell, tell us...We will convey when they come home...’ ‘Do you think I am a Kashipuria police (a policemen from Kashipur)? I am from Cuttack. I gave you five minutes. If they do not come out within five minutes, I will charge...Just four minutes left’—the CI was roaring. Danei Jhodia, a 53 year-old woman, gathered courage to ask, ‘Sir, why you are looking for them?’ ‘Call them quickly. Two minutes more. I will fire, if they do not come out’—while Subash Swain was talking to the women, the other policemen surrounded all the houses and were trying to push through some of the houses. When the police tried to push through the houses the women opposed them standing in a row holding each other’s hand. One Dalal1 said, ‘if you beat the women, the men will come out automatically.’ Subash Swain ordered the police, ‘What are you waiting for, charge them...’ The police pounced heavily on the women. Danei Jhodia fell down senseless due to heavy beating.

456 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Many women bolted their doors from inside. Some women shouted, ‘the police have killed Daneima. Daneima is dead...’ The screaming echoed in the hills and the male folk started running towards the village. The police were looking for such a moment. Immediately, Subash Swain ordered, ‘Fire, fire...’ Indiscriminate firing started. Another Dalal was shouting in the top of his voice, ‘Fire on them and smash them. I will take care of whatever happens...’ In no time Abhilash Jhodia, Damodar Jhodia (both from Maikanch) and Raghunath Jhodia (from Bagrijhola) were shot dead while they were running down the hill. The bullet firing and lathicharge continued for three hours resulting in three activists’ deaths. Seven villagers were severely injured of which the police took two to hospital in their vehicle and more than 30 others were injured. The effort to frighten people for standing in the way of the company’s endeavour failed. It was just after two days of the firing, on December 18, 2000, that people gathered in a meeting to decide what was to be done. It was finally decided that the PSSP would continue with its earlier decision on protest and demonstration to put a road blockade at Rafkana on December 20, 2000, at least to show the government and the company that the people were not afraid of firing. The news of the police firing spread like wildfire. Initially though scared, the people got agitated and joined the Rafkana road blockade in thousands from as far as Laxmipur, Dashmantpur and Koraput. Carrying their own food and clothing, more than 10,000 people joined the protest and demonstration at Rafkana junction on December 20 making the road blockade a grand success. The police, company and the government were taken aback by the zeal of the Tribals to fight for their land and livelihood. For Development of Kashipur: Company’s Effort to Appease People The construction work of the company could not progress much for the next three years. But the company continued its endeavour to appease people in many different ways. Way back in 1998, the UAIL formed Utkal Rural Development Society (URDS), an NGO by the company, and organised some eye camps, distributed some seeds and constructed some roads, culverts and a nursery. The PSSP demolished all constructions and rejected all the services with the argument that the government should do the development work, not the company. The company tried its best to show people that the company was really worried about the development of the local people! It started another society called Business Partner for Development (BPD) headed by the District Collector, Rayagada, as its chairman. Through BPD, the company wanted to push its agenda through the people.

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 457 Once they called a public meeting regarding ‘Development of Kashipur’. The venue was the Collector’s Office, Rayagada. All the local MLAs, MPs, Ex-MLAs and MPs, government servants, Sarapanchs, Samiti Sabhyas, ward members and the local elites were invited to attend the meeting. All of them were brought (by the vehicles arranged by the company) to the collector’s office in time. The meeting started. Officers and leaders went on with their arguments and counter-arguments to decide the fate of Kashipur development. Some of them expressed their concern that even after the government was spending so much money on Kashipur development why there was no development in Kashipur. Different leaders expressed different views. There was no holding back on making suggestions. The house overflowed with generous suggestions. The leaders talked about, for instance, politics, raising of a different party, giving computer education to the Tribals, and of course the establishment of the company, to name a few. Bhagaban Majhi, the present President of PSSP, was present there as the Sarpanch of Kucheipadar Gram Panchayat. He was not a popular figure in the meeting. He heard everything silently. It was 1 pm. None of the officers and leaders present was saying anything against the ‘decision’ taken for the development of Kashipur. Bhagaban Majhi got up and said: For last 4-5 hours whatever we have been talking about the ‘Development of Kashipur’, if implemented, I think, the whole of Kashipur will be flooded with ghee and honey and Kashipur will turn to be a golden Kashipur. If we really want the development of Kashipur, then we must first study how the people of Kashipur live and what are the means of their livelihood. We the Adivasi people of Kashipur live on agriculture – both plain land and dongar cultivation. Therefore, let’s bring some development to agriculture and agricultural lands. Let all the lands of Kashipur be irrigated. If all the people are assured of food to eat, clothes to cover the body, a good house to take shelter in, land to the landless and plantation of fruit bearing trees on the hills etc., then only the development of Kashipur are possible. Mainly, if all the lands of Kashipur are irrigated, then we can produce multi-crops and live happily. That will be the development of Kashipur. Otherwise, whatever you discussed about the development of Kashipur is of no worth.

Everybody became silent. The collector got angry and replied to Bhagaban: ‘What are you talking about? Last year, I gave 30 water pumps to Kashipur, but nobody took than. You are saying irrigation is needed. But why did not you take the pumps when I gave them?’ Bhagaban Majhi replied calmly: Sir, please listen to me. Be patient. Yes, last year you gave some pumps to Kashipur. But there was a condition that we had to buy the water pumps within three days paying some thousands of rupees. You know that we

458 Swaraj and the Reluctant State are poor Adivasi people. You say, how will we manage to arrange so much money within three days? At best, you will give a week’s time and then afterwards, it is your rule, that we cannot buy. But we cannot arrange thousands of rupees immediately. We are poor people. Then why are you not making our loans free? Why do you hesitate to give us loans even? Last year, I purchased a pump for which I struggled hard to arrange money. If you give 30 pumps to our GP, it will not be sufficient, leave alone the whole Kashipur Block. We need 100 pumps. Give us those pumps! You are conducting the meeting here with the government servants. What will they do? Do they have agricultural land? Do they know how to cultivate? Are they farmers? Invite the farmers to the meeting and take their views. If you conduct a meeting with the government servants, what result will we get? When the whole area is dominated by agriculturists, who has given you the right to organise meetings with a few government servants, company officers and dadals to talk about the development of those farmers? How is it possible? So, I demand on behalf of the farmers that let all the lands of Kashipur be irrigated. Give us water pumps for lift irrigation. Give us electricity for running our pumps. It will be a blessing for all. All will live happily. Then only Kashipur will develop, I am sure.

The whole house was taken aback. The discussion on company ended there. The collector opened his diary and wrote some things hurriedly and banged the diary on the table. He wrote about the topics for discussion at the next session. It was time for lunch. Bhagaban Majhi was taking his food. The collector came to him and gave a smile. Caressing his back, the collector told him in a pampering voice: ‘Yes, you are a young man. Your blood must be a little hot. By the way, Bhagaban Babu, are you angry?’ Bhagaban replied, ‘What sir! People like you should make us understand! Instead, should we teach you, sir? Will it be good if we teach you?’ The Collector became silent. The lunch got over. The meeting continued again. Nobody talked about the company. There they discussed about health, education, irrigation etc. The collector did not attend the second session. The meeting got over. After a few days, Luna Nayak, the then director of the company visited Bhagaban Majhi. Praising Bhagaban a lot, she asked whether they could conduct meetings in the villages. Bhagaban replied, ‘It is the people who will decide whatever they like. I cannot say anything alone. They do not want mining here. Anyway, we have to talk to them.’ The development institution, BPD (Business Partner for Development) was closed forever. People’s Opinion Poll: An Eyewash It is an indisputable fact that the proposed UAIL plant in Kashipur would take place on a piece of land designated as a Fifth Schedule Area.

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 459 The Schedule provides the Tribals with Constitutional rights and provisions that aim to protect and preserve their unique cultures and livelihoods. Further, national and state legislations have underpinned these Constitutional rights of the Tribals over the lands and natural resources in the Scheduled Area. As a Schedule Area, the acquisition of an estimated 2,800 acres of land in Kashipur by the UAIL requires local people’s consent for the whole project and individual consent for the Rehabilitation and Resettlement (R&R) package offered in lieu of the exchange of the privately-owned lands. The Orissa Scheduled Tribes Transfer of Immovable Property Act, 1956, made it illegal to transfer Tribal land to non-Tribal bodies without first obtaining the consent of the local people. More recently, the Panchayat (Extension to Scheduled Areas) Act, 1996 (PESA), stipulates a strict requirement of consultation with the local people prior to land acquisition for development projects, as well as in the formulation of the R&R packages. This very issue was upheld by the Supreme Court in Samatha vs the state of Andhra Pradesh (popularly known as Samatha judgment)2 case that further reiterates the requirement of consultations with the local people suffices (AIR 1997 SC 3297, quoted in ITP 20): The predominant object of para 5(2) of the Fifth Schedule and the Regulations (the Land Transfer Regulation of AP) is to impose total prohibition of immovable property to any person other than a Tribal...

So it became mandatory for the UAIL to consult the local people. Beginning in 1999, UAIL claims that, ‘Regular meetings are held with the villagers, village elders and youth club. Communicators/facilitators were appointed to communicate with the villagers about the impacts of the Project on the environment and development of the region’ and ‘efforts continue in the region to clear misconceptions about the Project’ (UAIL 1999, quoted in IPT 2006: 22). On December 30, 2000, the then Rayagada Collector, Durga Madhab Mishra, convened a Pallisabha where the Gramsabhas of Kucheipadar, Maikanch, Kodipari, Tikiri and Gorakhpur submitted written statements objecting to the mining and this decision was submitted to the Chief Minister, the Prime Minister and the President. Till 2003, UAIL also claims that it visited nine villages to hold meetings with the local people, during which they encountered resistance. In 2004, UAIL approached Government for help in motivating and negotiating with the people. UAIL with the help of Government held two Open House Meetings to assess public opinion about the project. The details of the meeting are as follows. The first Open House Meeting was organised in the district collector’s office in Rayagada on January 27, 2004 in the presence of the collector and the Revenue Divisional Commissioner (RDC). The local MLAs, MPs, Ministers, Sarapanchs, Samiti Sabhyas, Ward Members,

460 Swaraj and the Reluctant State villages heads, communicators/motivators and the ‘company people’ were invited to the meeting. Many people were carried by buses/trucks from the company affected villages and outside to the meeting assuring them of a hearty meal and a day’s wage (Rs. 50 to 100). These people were brought only to show that people in the area supported the establishment of the company. In fact, these people were not allowed to participate in the meeting. Seeing the crowd standing silently, the police shouted at the ‘hired’ people, ‘Sale, you have taken money. You will be given food here. Vehicles are arranged to transport you. Why are you standing silently? ‘Shout slogans’.’ Giving them banners to hold, the police ordered the people to shout slogans: Utkal Alumina, welcome, welcome! Utkal Alumina, zindabad, zindabad! Though PSSP and other activists were not invited, a small crowd of ‘opponents’ including Bhagaban Majhi protested in front of the collector’s office. Bhagaban Majhi asked the Collector whether they could take part in the meeting. ‘Only the invited people will participate in the meeting’—the collector replied. Bhagaban again asked whether he could participate in the meeting as the Ex-Sarpanch of Kucheipadar. The collector repeated his words. Realising their request to participate in the meeting rejected, the PSSP and its supporters protested in front of the collector’s office with slogans: Utkal Alumina, down, down! Utkal Alumina, go back, go back! False public opinion poll, will not do, will not do! The police thrashed the activists out of the campus and closed all the gates. The Superintendent of Police (SP) came to the activists and shouted, ‘My wife’s brothers, you illiterate, stupid Adivasis! You know nothing. What can you understand how much you will be benefited, if the company comes....’ Bhagaban replied: Yes sir, you have studied enough. You are IAS and IPS officers. You are the great intellectuals. You have too much knowledge. You are absorbed so much with your knowledge that you are unable to see the world outside. So you say that Adivasis are illiterate and stupid. If company comes, how much we will get, how much company will get, how much government will be benefited, how many people will be displaced, how many Adivasis will be employed, how many Adivasis will get opportunity for wage earning and for how many days etc. – why should not we know all these. Is it stupid to ask all these?

The collector pulled the SP by his hand saying, ‘It is worthless to mind all these nonsense talks. You cannot fight with these Adivasis.’ Again,

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 461 the RDC came and enquired what the matter was about. Bhagaban got angry and told the RDC: What is this farce going on here? Does Open Public Opinion meeting get organised in the Collector’s office? Is it a drama house? Whatever happens, it will happen in the field. We do not want mining here. Why are you conducting meetings? Again, why are you not allowing us to participate in the meeting? Why will only the leaders take part, why not the general public? We have the right to listen also? We have the right to express our opinions...

‘We do not want your opinion...’—the RDC got angry and shouted. Bhagaban replied back, ‘You cannot do mining here without our clearance. You decide whatever you want to do, but we cannot leave our lands.’ Finally, the meeting started inside the house with the ‘invited’ participants, even without the ‘hired’ public. The meeting started with the projection of a documentary on a screen showing the life of the Tribals before and after company. On the first half of the ‘screen’, they showed Adivasi men’s almost bare naked bodies covered with dirty and torn loin cloths and women wearing also dirty and torn sarees. They never forgot to display the Tribal children naked. They also showed the Tribals eating tanku-pej and ghurdisag3 and living in dirty and dark [means without electricity] and broken thatched houses, and so on. The other half of the ‘screen’ showing Adivasi life after company was cheerful and joyous. They made the Adivasis wear full-pants, T-shirts and boots and clean and bright-white sarees to women. Also panoramic views of the Tribals working in the company along with their pucca houses, electric-lamps, street lights, tap water etc. were highlighted. At the end of the meeting the PSSP handed over its memorandum of protest. The second Open House Meeting for public opinion poll was held on May 26, 2004 in the same collector’s office. As usual, political leaders, local governance representatives, bureaucrats and company people attended the meeting. Giridhara Gamango, the former Chief Minister of Orissa, opined that the mining should be undertaken only with the consent of the majority of the local people. The company people tried to convince the minister that only a few ‘agitators’ were shouting and mobilising people in their support, but actually most of the people had given their consent. The company, claimed that both of these meetings were widely attended and ‘The response was positive and the majority of the leaders expressed their views in favour of the project’ (quoted in IPT 2006: 22). The UAIL also claims that another meeting was held at a later date with ward members and village heads of the 24 project affected villages. This time the company took extra care to make the meeting successful.

462 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Three or four months prior to the meeting, the company tried to curry people’s favour by distributing money. Bhagaban Majhi says, ‘Those who went to Rayagada project office and said that they were from Kashipur, got some money. The local boys regularly visited project office to get some money that they spent to watch movies.’ The company tried in all possible ways to show people were in ‘favour’ of the project. The meeting was convened at the same venue again. As usual, people were transported from the project affected villages and other places to the meeting. The company succeeded in creating an illusion of local support. Thus, the meeting it was claimed was a grand success getting an ‘overwhelming support for the project’ (UAIL 2004, quoted in IPT 2006: 22). A new R&R package was declared and the company became hopeful that its project would be completed without further delay. The PSSP and the supporters of people’s movement got shocked many people had attended the meetings organised by the company. They knew, however, that the people attended the meeting only for food and money. Yet to verify the fact whether people really supported the company or the movement, the PSSP called for a meeting in protest and demonstration of their strength. On October 19, 2004, a mass rally of 10,000 people armed with traditional weapons gheraoed Tikiri police station, once more demanding cancellation of the project altogether. The company got confused how could the same people take part in both the meetings organised separately by the company and the PSSP. In response to the company’s request for convincing the local people in favour of the company, on November 25, 2004, the Chief Minister, Naveen Patnaik, gave a clear instruction to the state bureaucrats and police to strongly suppress the anti-mining movements. Again, an All Party Committee rally was convened in Rayagada on November 28, 2004. Bhagaban says that a sum of Rs. 32 lakh was spent for this meeting. 96 trucks and 50 marshals were engaged to bring people from as far as Dashmantpur, Kashipur and Vijayanagaram (AP) to the meeting and drop them back. Additionally another ten trucks transported food for the participants. The company claims that the rally was widely attended by 20,000 people. Then, the company had succeeded in taking away some of the activists to its side. One among such activists was Krushna Saunta, the founding President of PSSP. Krushna Saunta delivered a speech in favour of the company: Earlier, we were fighting against the company because we never understood the company properly. We were wrong. We understand now that company should be established. It will be better for us. We will get all the benefits. – wage earnings, and jobs in the company etc. We are going out for wage earning but now we will get jobs here in the company. ...The anti-project people must be severely punished...

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 463 The company claimed that the rally was highly successful. The PSSP held a protest rally and demonstration on the same day at the plant site. Later, on December 9, 2004, the then Rayagada Collector, Pramod Meherda, convened a Palli Sabha in the villages of Ramibeda, Kandukhunti and Talakarol—the three villages which were to be acquired in totality by the UAIL. Again, on that day the effort to get public consent proved to be a dramatic affair. The meeting was held in a place surrounded by about 300 armed police force and the community leaders were intimidated to consent at gunpoint. Consider what a local political leader and a company supporter says about Gramsabha: ‘Oh! Gramsabha? It is only paperwork. If you think, and the government wants, that 5000 people can really come to a consensus in a meeting, then it is impossible. Well, we have also accepted that challenge. On the coming December 30, the collector has convened a meeting. We will show you doing even that’ (Dash 2001: 47). So, that is how the company got the ‘paper work’ done at the gunpoint. The company’s endeavour to obtain individual consent for land acquisition and acceptance of R&R package offered by the company was more vigorous. In fact, no written date was provided to the people regarding the details of compensation for land acquisition and R&R package. Motivators and communicators had been appointed to convince people individually. Very often these company people made exaggerated promises to persuade people in favour of the company. Even the communicators/motivators worked in conjunction with hired goons and the police to convince people either by showing ‘favour’ or through intimidation. However, all these endeavours to appease people and get their consent for the project came to rought. Police Repression The government and the company failed to get the consent of the local people for the project. On the other hand, the Tribals expressed their dissent through regular non-violent protests and demonstrations such as meetings, rallies, sit-ins, police station gheraos and road blockades. Instead of reconsidering the mining project acknowledging the local concern, the government in conjunction with the company seemed hellbent on intimidating and repressing the local people to give their consent in favour of the company. In 2004, the government deployed a large number of policemen and paramilitary forces in the area, no doubt in preparation of the commencement of the project in 2005. It appeared that the heavy deployment was the result of incendiary public statements made by a high-level state official in November and December 2004: Chief Minister of Orissa, Naveen Patnaik, declared in the Assembly of Orissa on December 4, 2004 (as shown on the TV):

464 Swaraj and the Reluctant State ‘No-one—I repeat no-one— will be allowed to stand in the way of Orissa’s industrial development and the people’s progress’ (quoted in Padel and Das 2006: 14); ‘Sri B.B. Harichandan, a BJP cabinet minister, was quoted in December 2004 as saying that anyone, opposed to mining projects was anti-social and would be sent to jail; and district collector Pramod Meherda told the media that people who opposed the project were anti-social, anti-national, anti-development, and extremists’ (ITP 2006: 55). Undoubtedly, to facilitate the commencement of the project, the government decided to establish a police outpost at Damakarol village —a place in between the main centre of the movement, Kucheipadar, and the company—for ‘law and order’ reasons; while in fact, Tikiri police outpost stands at a distance of 10km and Dangasil police outpost lies at 5 km. On the first day, when the collector came, the people especially the women strongly protested and never allowed the collector to lay the foundation stone. Just after a week, on December 1, 2004, the collector along with the SP again came to the lay the foundation stone. In protest, the PSSP called a meeting on the same spot on the same day. The collector arrived with eight platoons of police armed with lathis and guns. The people protested with slogan that they needed a school and a hospital, not the police outpost. The magistrate present warned the Tribals to disperse. As the people did not listen to the warning, the Officer-in-Charge (OIC), Tikiri Police Station, shouted, ‘You nonsense Tribals go away, otherwise you will face the consequence.’ He abused the women and ordered them to disperse or else they would be raped. He further said, ‘When you are in the habit of sleeping with your father and brother, what is wrong if you are raped by us’ (PUCL 2005: 4). Apprehending danger, the older women folk came to the front pushing the young ladies back and some of the old women became naked challenging the OIC, Tikiri, and the police force to commit rape. The police present than started pelting stones at them which was quickly followed by tear gas firing and lathicharge. About 35 people were severely injured. Eight of them including two women were arrested by the police. In protest, the PSSP organised another meeting on December 7, 2004 in spite of serious threats from the police. After this incident, the police and paramilitary forces carried out regular raids and flag marches in different villages to threaten people to surrender to the company. Sankar Prasad Muduli describes (quoted in IPT 2006: 57-58) how police intimidated and repressed people in a series of village raids in 2004 and 2005. On December 5, 2004, at 3 o’clock some 100 CID personnel under the leadership of Tikiri Police Station Officer in Charge Sri Kishore Chandra Munda entered Bagrijhola village with guns and threatened

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 465 the villagers. They told the villagers if they opposed the company, they will be shot dead. The policemen, before being driven out of the village told the villages that the families of those who died in the plice firing at least got some compensation; however they 9the villagers) would die for nothing; even if 100 of them were killed, they would not get anything. The villagers were so terrified that they fled and did not return for 3 to 4 days. The police returned five days later: The second time on December 10, 2004, at 2 o’clock 85 policemen and a CRPF battalion came to Bagrijhola again and told the villagers: ‘Why are you Tribals opposing the project, you salas (an Oriya abuse referring to brothers-in-law)? How dare you oppose the project.’ They even threatened the women saying that they would be arrested if they continued to oppose the project.

Again three days later: For the third time on December 13, 2004, at 3 o’clock they came to the village and warned everybody against celebrating Shahid Diwas (Martyrs’ Day) in memory of those Tribals who had died in the earlier police shootout. ‘You will be shot dead or sent to jail if you do so’, the villagers were told.

The police returned to the villages five months later: On May 10, 2005, Tuesday night at 1 o’clock 100 policemen under the leadership of Tikiri Thana OIC Kishore Chandra Munda entered the village and in trying to arrest Shankar Prasad Muduli broke open the door of his house and stood him on his knees. His mother was also given two beatings with a lathi and driven out of the house. After that they went to the house of Natha Jani and tried to take his goats away. The family members woke up when they heard their goats bleating. The police then asked them about the whereabouts of Natha Jani and told them: ‘You people have been opposing the project. Come out or we will break open the doors of your house’, they were threatened.

Police raided the same village three days later: On May 13, 2005, policemen under the leadership of Tikiri Thana OIC Kishore Chandra Munda came back to the village under the pretext of buying chicken and threatened the villagers. If they opposed the company, they would be thrown into jails, the villagers were told.

And twelve days later again: On May 25, 2005, they came back under Munda’s leadership during a yatra (traditional procession) being held in Bagrijhola village and threatened the villagers.

Similar relentless police raids and flag marches were carried out in one village after another. Many people spent days together in forests and

466 Swaraj and the Reluctant State hills to avoid police harassment and arrest. Villagers and the leaders of the movement were arrested from the roads, bathing ghats, market, working fields, and even while sleeping. For example, Naveen Nayak of Khurigaon village was arrested from his home while police raided his village on December 2, 2004. Bulka Miniaka, a respected old man of Barigaon, who was arrested on 2 December 2004, says: The police came to my house and picked me up. They did not tell me why they were doing so. I was taken to Kashipur and then to Rayagada. I have just come out on bail. Kishore Chandra Munda has threatened me saying that if I ever dare to set foot in Kucheipadar I will be sent to jail.

Pradeep Majhi, a 14 year old boy from Kucheipadar, was arrested on June 21, 2005 and spent 45 days in jail during which he was physically and mentally abused. I, and some 15 friends of mine from our village had gone to nearby Bilamal village for my brother’s wedding. On that day, June 21, 2005, at night around 11 o’clock we were returning from Bilamal. At a camp near Karol, a battalion of police and Tikiri Thana OIC Kishore Chandra Munda suddenly stopped us. They asked us to step down from the vehicle in which we were traveling. ‘Why did you all go the Guguput meeting? I have seen you there’, we were told. They gave two kicks to Santosh Majhi and took us all to Tikiri thana. In Tikiri thana the second officer also abused me in filthy language and kicked me. I moved away. After that our village’s Jeera Majhi was also beaten up. After that, ten of us were sent to Kashipur and then Rayagada. Because I was too young, I was taken to Berhampur. After staying in Berhampur for one month, I got bail and came back. However, nine of my friends are still stuck in jail. Many charges have been slapped against them. Jeera Majhi has some seven cases against him (IPT 2006: 61).

The police also never spared the sympathisers of the anti-mining movement. As a sympathiser of the Kashipur movement, Bhagabat Prasad Rath, a retired professor from Rayagada College, was apprehensive that the company goons may beat him anytime or else some accident may happen. He was not alone. Prafulla Samantara, the Editor of Swaviman, a little magazine from Berhampur, was an activist and a supporter of Kashipur movement. He describes: On March 29, 1998, I was also a victim of ‘company raj’ in Rayagada District. On that day, in the presence of police, the goons of the company attacked Tribal people who were coming to a rally at Kashipur. Two activists namely Sanatan Pradhan and Rabi Mishra were kidnapped and beaten by the goons of the company in the office of Utkal Alumina at Tikiri. Myself and Sri Lingaraj, a prominent activist, were physically attacked by the goons when we were in search of the said two kidnapped friends. It was reported to the police station but no action was taken because of the company’s

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 467 influence on the administration [...] After the police firing at Maikanch on December 16, 2000, the police framed false charges on an attempt to murder case against myself and many others about which the judicial commission described was manipulated to discredit me because I am a supporter of Tribal movement. Now I am facing trial without any crime. From December 16, 2000, it has become a daily affair of Tikiri Police Station to book any person belonging the village of people’s struggle on false charges to suppress the movement (IPT 2006: 59, 60-61).

The PSSP claims that as many as 48 activists were arrested from Kucheipadar between December 2004 and June 2005. The objective of the police attack was achieved. The police succeeded in creating a fear psychosis in the minds of the people. While doing flag Marches and village raids, the police and paramilitary forces declared that those who stood against the company would get punishment. The Tribals were forced to accept the payment for land, R&R package and support the company. The police told the Tribals that they would spare those who surrendered to them with a promise that they would not protest against the company. Some of the village leaders surrendered to the police. For example, Dudheswar Jhodia, the Sarpanch of Maikanch, surrendered after his village was inundated by a troop of CRPF for over a month; and under stress, he signed a statement promising not to oppose the company (see PUDR 2005). Creating all this terror, the people were forced to accept the compensation. The company took possession of the land. Yet the people of Bagrijhola and Kucheipadar have not accepted payment for land. A police outpost at Damakarol was established. And construction work of the company started and has been proceeding. People’s protest at every step continues. The Poetics of Violence Living in Pain The government’s stand has been totally legalistic from its high pedestal reminiscent of the colonial era. The lands have been acquired according to an archaic law taking no note of the changes in the situation and the realities. Those who had the titles were eligible for compensation. They could be considered for rehabilitation, that too by grace and not as their right. Those who had no titles had to make way. They could at best expect some token doles. The resistance was dealt with no concern for the questions raised; rather the state administration stood with the company to suppress the people by force. The people are, however, realising now, taking a lesson from their own early experience and also from others’ experiences like at the Rourkela Steel Plant through word of mouth, that they have no future. The instinctive survival spirit is now in full bloom in the area amongst the affected and even others. It is an

468 Swaraj and the Reluctant State unalienable natural right of every human being. The people, in exercise of this right, are not prepared to leave their land, law or no law. Therefore, they resist the progress of company work once and again but very often they have been suppressed by brutal lathicharge, imprisonment, and firings etc. The police firing and killing of Tribal people in Kalinganagar and Kashipur is the result of the state remaining totally unconcerned about the people’s interests, their fears and aspirations. What is worse is that the state has refused to learn from the past experiences in Rourkela, Kashipur and even in Kalinganagar itself. Most of the deceased of the great tragedy were heads and/or caretakers of the family. As the Tribal families are nuclear in type, most of the families are now leading desperate lives without the bread earner of the house. It is now the wife or a minor male child who is shouldering the responsibility of the family. In Kalinganagar, Rama Gagarai, for example, is survived by his young wife, Sukumari in her early thirties and five children—the eldest being twelve years and the youngest one year old. Without any landed property, it was quite difficult for her, as she narrates from a sick bed (she was suffering from fever while I visited), to feed six mouths daily with Rs. 25 that she earned as a daywage labourer in the village. It is really difficult, she sighed, to get work daily in the village and manage such a big family without any assistance from outside. No sooner my husband died, our struggle for food started. Though we had no land, my husband was earning some bags of paddy by sharecropping. He was also earning money working as a casual labourer. Without him I was feeling desperate. The villagers of Gadhapur and Bisthapan Birodhi Jana Manch (BBJM) who is spearheading the movement provided us food for two weeks. Just after three days of my husband’s death, I got fever from which I never recovered for a long time. Nobody came to my help, not even the BBJM. I thought that I was going to die here without food and medicine. I was then thinking of my children that they would be orphaned without me. How will they survive? My eldest son, Narayan, was going regularly to Rabi Jarika and Chakradhar Hibru [respectively the Secretary and the President of the BBJM) to ask for rice. Once Chakradhar told my son, “You are consuming rice too fast and we cannot provide you so much”. I felt ashamed of begging for food. In the meantime the company people reached me and gave me medicines free of cost. And gradually they tried to convince me to accept the compensation. They convinced me that I would also get a job. Though initially I was a hesitant to leave my village, I had no other go. In the meantime, many of our village people also left. I decided to accept the money declared for the death of my husband. But I was not allowed to do that also. The BBJM warned and even threatened me not to accept the compensation. But

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 469 ultimately, the severity of the situation dragged me to the company’s transit camp. the company provided me everything at the earliest. Accompanied by the TaTa officials, I met the Collector of Jajpur and then everything became easy. I was paid the compensation price and given a job in Danagadi PHC. I was also provided with security as I feared retaliation from the BBJM. I am fine now.

Sukumari suffered and escaped. But I saw Sumi Badara, the widow of Bana Badara, who is still struggling to feed a five-member family by selling rice-beer. Of the 13 deceased, the families of Landu Jarika, Rama Jamuda, Janga Jarika, Bana Badara, Rama Gagarai, Rangalal Mudeya, Ati Jamuda, Mukuta Bangira etc. are living in desperate conditions. Many of the children of the deceased’s families are forced now to discontinue their studies. More tragic is the life of those victims who survived, but were injured. Some of them became handicapped for ever. Chema Hembram, aged 50 years of village Gadhapur, had sustained two bullet injuries—one on a knee and the other on a hand. He survived after three months of intensive treatment; yet the limbs are dysfunctional now. He is hardly able to do any work. He told me that Gurubari, his wife, was now managing the house by working as a wage labourer in Jindal Company and Madhusudan, his 13 year old son, was doing his best to manage the agriculture which was disturbing his studies to a great extent. With tears in his eyes, he says, ‘It is not worth living now. Along with domestic chores, Gurubari is toiling hard for earning bread for five stomachs. Madhusudan is breaking his backbone to plough the field disrupting his study. I am a burden to them now. I am not even getting the handicapped pension.’ Life is miserable for Birsing Gope—the first victim of the police firing at Kalinganagar. One afternoon in late July 2007, reaching village Chandia I located the dilapidated hut of Birsing where I met his wife, Lalita, and mother-in-law, Bela Gope (who belongs to Bengapatia, a neighbouring village of Kalinganagar). In her advanced pregnancy, Lalita pathetically stated, ‘It is really unbearable to manage a four-fivemember house by selling rice-beer in the weekly market and earning just Rs. 100-150 in a week.’ In the meantime Birsing came in hopping with the help of aluminum crutches. As a migrant labour from Singhbhum area of the present Jharkhand state, Birsing Gope describes: I came to the village Chandia in 1998 and stayed in a relative’s house. I earned my livelihood by working in Nilachala Ispat Nigam Ltd. as a daywage labourer. Staying for a long time in Chandia, I got closely connected with the movement. In the police firing, I lost the only means of livelihood I had, my body and labour. You see, I became completely handicapped not able to walk on my own, leave alone work. By selling handia (ricebeer), Lalita is earning Rs 100 per week and that is how we are surviving.

470 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Even sometimes we are starving. We do not have a house of our own, though the leaders of the BBJM have promised to build one for us. You see, we are living in this wretched house—one room, broken walls, and leaking roof—and half of it is shared by the cattle of the house owner. The owner also is specific about us vacating the house soon. Within next two weeks, Lalita is going to deliver. I am worried where will we live and where will she deliver the baby. I feel, I have to drop Lalita and my two children in Jharkhand. I am handicapped and not worth a paisa now. All the more I am a burden to my wife and mother-in-law and I have to depend on their earnings. I cannot provide them anything, even physical protection as a husband. I have to beg others for food and many other things I need. What dignity do I have? You cannot regain dignity once you lose it. You can earn money once and again, but not prestige and dignity.

Similarly, Subarna Jhodia of Kashipur, for example, who lost her husband Abhilas Jhodia in December 2000 police-firing, has many pathetic woes to recount. She, then in her early 20s, was left desperate in her advanced pregnancy along with two other very small children. She toiled hard to work in the field and forest to feed three mouths. Ananta Kumar Giri observes: The experience of Subarna, Abhilash’s wife, and his children is different. When I went to Abhilash’s house along with some young people of the village, Subarna was not at home. She had gone to a distant forest, even at her advanced stage of pregnancy, to collect firewood which she would sell for her livelihood. Abhilash’s father who was holding his young grandson told us: “In the night it is difficult. The young boy is asking when would his father come home?” When I was able to meet with Subarna, she was silent as a statue. Words and tears have run their course in her life and her vacant eyes embody a different experience of struggle compared to the leaders in the village for whom Abhilash has quickly become somebody whose martyrdom has given new energy to the movement (2005: 357).

That is how she could manage to survive till today. During my stay in her village, Maikanch, she became a close friend of mine. The more and more I asked about her life, the more and more abstract she became. One evening in the course of beginning a conversation with me, she said painfully, ‘What can I tell you? What do I have now? I lost the only possession I had, my husband. There is nobody now who would care for me or on whose shoulder I can rest my head to cry. Sometimes I cry a lot and console myself. You know, nowadays I am not feeling hungry at night. Thus, I have stopped taking dinner.’ The most disheartening feature of the Kalinganagar episode was the state politics over the dead bodies. As noted earlier, the hands and private parts of the deceased had been chopped off for reasons unknown! None of the demands of the people were taken into

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 471 consideration. The state government has been extremely callous in dealing with the situation. It is needless to mention that cash compensation has been the easiest gesture of the rulers. It is started with Rs. 1 lakh by the Government of Orissa, raised to Rs. 5 lakh for the dead and Rs. 50,000 for injured by the state government with an additional equivalent amount by the Government of India. The relief offers of the state have been turned down by the BBJM. The relief given by the Congress (Rs. 1 lakh for the dead and Rs. 25,000 for the injured) and Lok Sewak Mandal, (Rs. 25,000 for each dead), however, has been accepted. The collector and the superintendent of police of Jajpur who where present during the massacre have been transferred. A judiciary investigation has been ordered. A ministerial committee has been formed headed by Bishwabhusan Harichandan, the Industry and Revenue minister, to study resettlement and rehabilitation and to submit the report within a month. ‘We will adopt a comprehensive policy for resettlement and rehabilitation, of the project affected people and it will be a progressive one’—said Mr Harichandan (Das 2006d: 13). The force of the movement was so strong that within a couple of months the Resettlement and Rehabilitation Policy, 2006 (see GOO 2006, 2007) was tabled in the Orissa Assembly and declared, mostly in the belief that it would silence the protestors (Das 2006f). Generally it is commented that the declared R&R policy is the best and unique in its nature not only in Orissa but also in India! A special R&R Policy has been declared for Kalinganagar that one can find in the Government of Orissa website even (see GOO 2005a). The promise it makes is alluring. But, what about the ground reality, especially of implementation? In the meanwhile, work on the Tata project was halted for a while but the company continued in convincing the people to accept the compensation and R&R package. Thus, a year after the police firing, the Tribal people, mainly the company supporters, agreed to accept the compensation and the R&R package. Of the total 1500 families to be displaced, almost 600 have accepted the R&R package. With a prior appointment I met Mr Rajesh Chintak, the Additional Managing Director (AMD) of Tata Steel Project in Kalinganagar, who was proud to say, ‘We are implementing here the best R&R Policy of the country. We want to make Kalinganagar the model of the R&R Policy. All the DPs are the part of the Tata Steel Parivar [family]’. Similarly, promising a better future for all the Tata Steel Parivar members, the managing director (MD) of the company says. ‘The history of rehabilitation programmes in our country has not been very satisfactory. But we will see to it that people affected by our greenfield plants get the best compensation in terms of job opportunities and standard of living’. In fact I found everywhere—from Jajpur Road to Kalinganagar—the Tata

472 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Steel sign boards reading ‘Ama Tata Steel Parivar, Sukhi Parivar’—‘our Tata steel family, happy family’. I felt enigmatic of the slogan. With all my enthusiasm, then, I visited all the Tata camps—Danagadi I & II, Gobaraghati (all transit camps), Trijanga and Sansailo (both rehabilitation colonies). In all camps, the big entrance gate bearing the name of the camp, and of course the Tata Steel logo and the slogan— ’Ama Tata Steel Parivar, Sukhi Parivar’, were giving me an impression of happy lives inside. One day, I was just walking through the entrance gate of Danagadi-I transit camp bypassing two security men standing by the two poles. ‘Hello, hello...’—I heard one of the security men calling me from behind. ‘Yes, please tell me’—I replied. ‘We do not know you. Why are you going inside? Whom do you want to meet?’—the other security man asked me straight. I gave my identity as a student and explained to them about my research. Though they realised that I needed to talk to some of the DPs, they replied, ‘Sir, we do not have the permission to allow anybody inside other than the DPs of this camp. Many people are coming and writing many different stories.’ I was surprised as to how anybody could write something bad about the ‘happy families’. They allowed me, however, inside the camp when I uttered the name of my friend whom they knew as a ‘Senior Officer’ of Tata Steel Project in Kalinganagar. I saw the whole camp surrounded by a wire-fence. Very close to the only entrance gate, there stands a small plastic-net-fenced children’s park (approximately 15´×10´) with some swings and other playing material. Ama Tata Steel Parivar, Sukhi Parivar was written as a brand name here and there—on the walls of the houses, water tanks, bath rooms, the tin sheets used as walls of the non-formal school etc. Finally I succeeded in talking to a displaced person (DP), Paragana Hembram, with his two wives and a small child. Paragana was unhappy to tell me, ‘How can we live in a 10´×10´ room. I am not talking about my problem only. Where will the parents sleep or those who have many small children? How can I accommodate my guests? From this transit camp Biren and Lalsing Sundhi returned to their village, Baligotha, when they faced a lot of problems here—food shortage and, no shed for their cattle etc. We have to inform the security men always about where we are going and for what. All our guests will be checked and asked many things that they do not like. The company will hardly provide extra rations for the guests.” But the people like Fakir Champia, a DP in Trijanga Rehab Colony (originally from village Belahuri), seems contemplative on many serious issues. He is much worried about the future of the four minor sons who are now not eligible to be DPs, and hence have no home-stead plot, no house and no job. He said:

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 473 ‘Anyhow they will work somewhere and can earn their livelihood. But where will they live? Where will they build their houses? I am worried that some of my sons may have to migrate somewhere else. Then, my family will be disintegrated. I do not know what I will do.’ Further amidst his praises for Tata company he added, ‘We were living in thatched houses in village and managing with kerosene lamps at night. They promised us to give a concrete house, pucca roads, electrification, tap water, and jobs. Yes, they have given them. I do not blame them. But now they are telling us to be the consumers and pay the electricity bill. I told them that we were living by the nation you has been giving and then how can we pay the bill. I agreed to bear the cost of the electricity once we would get the job and start earning . I am also worried that the promised period for providing rations is coming to an end. But the company has not come to us till now and we are not given jobs. Then if they stop providing ration how will we survive? We have left our farm lands and other means of livelihood available in village and we are hardly able to do business or other kinds of activities available here.’

The DPs of Kashipur have many tragic hales to narrate. On an afternoon, I visited the Nuapada R&R colony located at the foothills of a mountain giving shelter to around 98 DP families from Ramibeda (42 Tribal families) and Dimundi (56 families). I was happy to see the so-called ‘poor’ Tribals living in a beautiful settlement—picchu roads running in between yellow pucca houses standing in lines facing each other, a separate bathroom for each family at the back of the main house, iron gates at the entrance of each house, streetlight poles with mercury bulbs and overhead water tanks standing at the fag end to supply water to the whole colony and the school at the entrance of the village, though my Kondha friend, Rama Majhi, who was with me told that he had not seen the school open. My fantasies of a ‘good life’ in colony underwent a change when I met Umesh Majhi at the entrance hall of his house. Besides the entrance hall where we were sitting, he showed me his single bed room, a small kitchen and a toilet five hands away from the back door of his house. He was complaining about the poor construction of the house, the cracked roof and walls, the almost broken doors and windows, frequent power-cuts and irregular water supply. He feared that anybody could snatch away his house at any time as he was not given any patta for his allotted 10 decimal homestead land. He was much worried about his livelihood as he was not yet given the promised job. Thus, he was running a petty shop (shelves containing biscuits, biri, tobacco and a few grocery items) at the entrance hall of the house. He described the life in colony in one line saying, ‘Kuli gale randha, na hele mulakanda[you can] cook if [you] get a wage, otherwise [you have to survive with] sweet potato.’4

474 Swaraj and the Reluctant State After a year, in 2007, I met another DP, Gobara Majhi of the same colony who told me ‘Company took our land by force and broke our houses with bull-dozers at midnight. They promised us jobs and all round prosperity. As we had no other way, we came here. They never gave us jobs. Now we depend mostly on the day-wage labour in the company. The day company stops the work, we will starve. Thus we have staged strikes at different times. In August 2007, we sat on dharna for about 10 days demanding permanent jobs in the company. We also threatened the company telling that if not taken care of, we would then join PSSP to fight against the company. Finally they gave each of us a piece of paper and we did not know what was written on it. But I got a job in the Sidhartha Constructions Pvt Ltd and I am getting Rs. 2100 per month.’ Gobara showed me his ‘Appointment Letter’ where it was written ‘Gobara Majhi ... is appointed as a wage labourer @ Rs. 70 per day in Sidharth Constructions Pvt. Ltd.5 from August 20, 2007 provided he satisfies the following conditions...and he can be terminated from job under the following conditions...’

I find, in brief, that ‘all the internationally accepted principles regarding involuntary displacement have been wantonly and openly violated and transgressed by the authorities and the corporate bodies’ (Bandyopadhyay 2004: 411). Transforming Pain In any structural violence, as our foregoing discussion shows, the first thing that gets affected is the ‘body’. It becomes the contested site of violence. The somatic body of man immediately becomes a semiotic object on which the actions of the violence are to be inscribed (cf. Das 1995). In her much cited scholarly work, Veena Das (1995) presents a modern ethnography of critical events which is sensitive to both world historical process as well as the inner life of individual. Whether it is the violence during partition of India in 1947, Bhopal industrial gas tragedy in 1984 or Sati (Roop Kanwar case) in Rajasthan in 1987, as Veena Das explores, the victim’s body becomes a contested site not only among communities (ch. 5), for community and the state (ch. 3), but also for bureaucracy, judiciary and medical discourses (ch. 6). Here, she argues, the victims are not only more likely to suffer, but also they are more likely to have their suffering and voice silenced (cf. Farmer 1998: 280). Veena Das writes ‘The more suffering was talked about, the more it was used to extinguish the sufferer’ (1995: 174). Incisive of Das’ discourse on social suffering, I admit that the killings and police repressions in Kalinganagar and Kashipur, no doubt, have produced the experience of social and bodily suffering, suffering not merely of marginalisation or corporal pain but also dismemberment, of

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 475 displacement and homelessness, of joblessness and food shortage, of shortened lives and death without weeping (Scheper-Hughes 1992). But, extending Das’ argument, our discussion appreciates that social suffering was neither able to silence the voice of the victims nor extinguish them. It gives the victims the space to explore the means and strategies to cope in an inhospitable life-world. Here Kleinman and Kleinman help us to understand ‘how political oppression, torture, atrocity and the turmoil of societal breakdown, which have intensified manifestly in our times, are remembered? How do political processes of terror (and resistance) cross over from public space to traumatise (or reanimate) inner space and then cross back as collective experience?’ (p. 711). While there are no definitive answers to these questions, as they acknowledge, they do offer a set of ideas. The first set is subjective suffering and social suffering that occurs in everyday life of social experience. With a staunch critique of dichotomisation of social life into individual and collective poles Kleinman and Kleinman (1994: 712) argue: Bodies and selves are axes in the social flow around which social psychological and sociosomatic processes aggregate. These processes transport metaphor from symbol system via event to relationships; they bring meaning into the body-self. Subjective complaint and collective complaint thereby merge, and social reaction and personal reaction unite. So defined, social experience interrelates social suffering and subjective suffering not as different entities but as an interactive process.

Analysing the social memory of Chinese indigenous people’s bodily suffering during Chinese cultural revolution, Kleinman and Kleinman claim ‘bodily memory, biography and social history merged’ (1994: 714). Here the corporal body pain creates an interpersonal space where the bodily pain is expressed, experienced and shared. Thus, each shared complaint of bodily suffering serves as ‘moral commentary’, first of the local world and ultimately the society in general as well. Expressing bodily pains, and even experiencing them, can therefore take a form of resistance (cf. Scott 1985). And these experiences of pain, it goes without saying, are forms of mediation of social process leading to an interpretation and merging of subjectivity and social world (Kleinman and Kleinman 1994: 717). It seems particularly strong in the memory of social suffering. The second set of ideas, Kleinman and Kleinman provide, is moral capital and vital energy. Here they refer to the social interconnectedness in everyday life that provides a kind of ‘moral capital’. And their moral capital utilised in a proper way energizes the body as well as the network with ‘vital energy’ (p. 713). Can these energies be potent sources of social change? Kleinman and Kleinman with a positive note conclude:

476 Swaraj and the Reluctant State ‘Perhaps transformations that begin in reveries, dreams, painful bodies, and alienating trances, that protect the inner world of the person and the family, that keep social memory alive while they engender the forgetting of the most self-defeating of images, that criticise and resist the oppression of persons.... do expand through cultural-political process into world transformations’ (1994: 721). Again, going beyond Kleinman and Kleinman’s description of somatisation6 (1986), Nancy Scheper-Hughes talks about ‘Somatic Culture’ (1992: 184). By somatic culture she means the socio-cultural life of the sugarcane workers of Brazil which privileges the body as a medium of communication—both as a metaphor and a metonym—of relationships, of politics and even spirituality (1992: 185-86, 231-32). At this point, Veena Das argues that the embodied individual body pain shared in a moral community is treated as a social suffering that helps the victim to awaken his/her consciousness and represent, constructing the pain as the medium, the historical wrong done to a person (Das 1995: 176, cf. Kleinman and Kleinman 1994, Kleinman et al. 1997, Bourdieu et al. 1999). Constructive Confrontation These kinds of subjective sufferings as we saw are not confined to the victims alone. These sufferings today are shared not only by the community fellows, but also by the fellows from translocal and transnational spaces. For instance, going beyond geographical boundary and crossing over 700 km and more, the Tribals of Kashipur join hands with the Tribals of Kalinganagar and vice versa. Even the Tribals of different parts of the country, mostly those fighting for the same cause, extend their kind-hearted support and they stand by each other at the time of need viz. for organising meetings, strike, dharmas, bandhs and even attacking the company and its supporters. Also these movements have been supported by political leaders, social activists, leaders of civil society, people’s organisation and other dignitaries. Importantly, the association of social activists like Sunderlal Bahuguna, Medha Patkar, and Arundhati Roy, to name a few, has inspired and strengthened these people’s movements. There are also ‘Solidarity Groups’ in India and abroad supporting these kinds of movements. For example, a solidarity group of Kashipur in Canada, Alcan’t (an international campaign against Alcan which is a mining company based in Canade) in India observes its first protest and demonstration in Montreal on December 16, 2003, commemorating the shooting death of three Tribals in Kashipur. Alcan fails to justify its investment in Kashipur amidst the strong local protest. At Alcan’s annual general assembly on April 22, 2004, Alcan’t reminds and confirms to the shareholders that the inhabitants of Kashipur are totally opposed to the UAIL mining project.

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 477 On June 14, 2004, in a meeting in between Alcan’t in India activists and the Alcan executives, the latter refuse to publicise their document, one of the demands of Alcan’t. A solidarity conference is organised in Montreal on September 1-3, 2004 where participants from India and Norway joined. On July 14, 2006, there was another huge demonstration against Alcan in Berlin and Heidelberg in support of the Kashipur struggle. Such kinds of people’s protest—local and international—have compelled Norsk Hydro and Tata to withdraw from UAIL in 2001. However, the UAIL remains a joint partnership of Alcan (45%) and Hindalco (55%). Thus, this co-sharing creates what is called a ‘moral community’ or ‘imagined community’ (Anderson 1991) consisting of people suffering from the same kinds of pain and fighting for the same cause. Thus, the Tribals of Kalinganagar and Kashipur have taken a vow not to vacate land for industries any more. The recent killing has strengthened their resolve to fight against administrative excesses, displacement and rehabilitation, loss of livelihoods and dignity. ‘They have killed our men, for setting up a steel plant. We are now ready to die, but will not part with our land and homes’—said Upin Jamuda, the father of the deceased Ati Jamuda of Chandia. (Das 2006b: 16). ‘We will not give an inch of land for industrialisation any more. We have lost many lives. Many of our people became handicapped for ever. If the Government wants to establish companies here, let them kill all of us first’— said Rabindra Jarika, the Secretary of the BBJM. Even the reaction of Bhagaban Majhi is the same. Also this is the common reaction of the people of Kalinganagar and Kashipur. This moral community not only provides moral support to the movement but also energises the people to fight the company back. Also this helps in production of knowledge, mostly through word of mouth. The associations of the Tribals of Kalinganagar and Kashipur with other different movements, activists and great dignitaries have made them aware and conscious about the state, MNCs and their intentions and above all their own rights and dues. Bhagaban Majhi admits: Earlier we accepted the Government as our mai-bap (parents). We were thinking that the government will take care of us from birth to death. But today, we know, the government is only for the leaders and traders, not for us. Through these movements, we could see now the real characters of the leaders, officers, ministers etc. Now we do understand, had there no movement, their exploitation, cheating and torture would have continued as usual (KJLM 2003: 28)7.

In this way, the social suffering of the Tribals of Kalinganagar and Kashipur shared in their day-to-day life has produced knowledge about the state, market, civil society and their roles and intentions, and about

478 Swaraj and the Reluctant State their own dues and rights as well. This knowledge has broadened their horizon of the consciousness that propels them towards resistance and persistence. The ‘Poetics’ of Violence Anthropologists have pointed out, however, that ‘violence must be seen as a discursive process, occurring within cultural and historical contexts and producing new meanings, practices and symbols’ (Penglase 2005: 6). Penglase argues, ‘Violence is both performative and poetic: violent acts produce effects beyond the merely instrumental, and often do so by drawing attention to the form within which they are executed and by deploying signs in new contexts, thereby altering their meanings’ (2005: 6). Seen in this light, the people’s movement in Kashipur (true to all other people’s movements also) marks a profound transformation in the life-world of the Tribals. It has broken Tribals’ ‘innocence’—it is that silence that made them susceptible to historical exploitation and torture. The reign of Gardu (forest guard) and Headu (police) in Tribal areas came to an end (in contrast with Gopinath Mohanty’s Paraja (1987) is a classic example of forest guard and police torture in Tribal life). As against the mai-bap regime, the Tribals are becoming critically conscious about police, administration, bureaucracy, government and the company. They are analysing the political parties. It is no more mystery for the Tribals to understand the political will of the government and the capitalist to keep them underdeveloped (see chapter 2). They ask: Is there a greater violence than robbing the public treasury and killing people without a decent minimum salary, without hospitals, without work, and without food? Will this violence succeed in ending violence? Because violence generates violence. Among those imprisoned in this country is there one person who has committed a crime more heinous than killing a nation with hunger and misery? (Penglase 2005: 6).

‘Violence generates violence’—that is what Saroj Mohanty, an activist from Kucheipadar, argues saying that the only alternative available for the Tribals is the movement. Coming together during crisis and violence, the united identity of the Tribals has created a space for an ‘imagined community’ to fight against the capitalist government, and to secure their human rights. Though it never brought in an intense alteration in local politics in Orissa, people’s movements have succeeded to question the role of state as the central economic and political actor, especially the mainstream paradigm of ‘development’ it is increasingly being called into question. Through different kinds of rallies, strikes, dharnas, bandhs, gheroas, protests and demonstrations, the Tribals generate a new form of power and wage a new kind of war against the authoritative forces

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 479 of the state and market, sometimes even forcing the government to fulfil their wishes. Kalinganagar movements, for instance, succeeded in causing a great hike in the valuation of land price and forced the Government of Orissa to formulate an R&R Policy (that has been nonexistent) for the benefit of the Tribals. The joint endeavour of the government and company for the commencement of the mining project in Kashipur resulted in police firing in 2001 and brutal police repression during 2004 and 2005. The UAIL, however, is unable to finish its construction work, leave alone production, for the last fifteen years due to people’s protest at every step. It seems that the activists are aware of the ‘poetics’ of violence: Historically, we the Tribals have been subjected to exploitation, deprivation, violence and humiliation. Always we were treated as ‘rest’ and we kept silent. Nobody heard our cries. Instead of answering our concerns, they are replying with bullets and lathis... Now it is time to react firmly and with determination and to show the oppressive politicians, the government and the company that we have the power and we need to be treated equally with respect and dignity. It is now the people’s movement to which the government heeds attention to. Unless our concerns are acknowledged with respect and dignity, we will not stop fighting against the absurdities happening to us, as the only option available to us is the movement.

What emerges from their dialogue is a notion of legitimate violence that they use to rectify the historical wrong done to them. How powerful this emergent power from pain to establish an age of self-determination and experience, authority and justice, however, is another matter. NOTES 1. The villagers refer to the company supports as Dalals. 2. When the Birla Group was granted a mining lease in the Scheduled Area of Vishakhapatnam district in state of Andhra Pradesh, the Supreme Court held, in Samatha vs. state of A.P., that mining leases by the Government in Scheduled Areas can only be granted to a Scheduled Tribe individual, a society composed entirely of Scheduled Tribe persons, or to a Government mining establishment (IPT 2006: 19-20). 3. Tanku-pej is a gruel prepared out of mango kernels and ghurdisag is a kind of greens available during rainy season. Mostly the Tribals consume these items during chronic food shortage period. 4. Here sweet potato is a metaphoric reference to ‘nothinglessness’ and starvation. 5. A private construction company that has taken tender for some construction work for the UAIL. 6. ‘Somatization’, as Kleinman and Kleinman understood, is a ‘generally maladaptive and fairly primitive defense mechanism involving the deploy-

480 Swaraj and the Reluctant State ment of the body in the production or exaggeration of symptoms as a way of expressing negative or hostile feelings’ (Scheper-Hughes 1992: 185). 7. My translation.

REFERENCES Abu-Lughod, Lila 1990. ‘The romance of resistance: Tracing transformation of power through Bedouin women’, American Ethnologist 17 (1): 41-55. Anderson, Benedict 1991 [1983]. Imagined communities: Reflections on the origin and spread of nationalism. London and New York: Verso. Bandyopadhyay, D. 2004. ‘Rayagada story retold: Destitutes of development’. Economic and Political Weekly, January 31, Vol. XXXIX, No. 5, pp. 408-411. Bourdieu, Pierre et al. (eds). 1999. Weight of the World: Social Suffering in Contemporary Society. Cambridge: Polity Press. Das, Achyut and Vidya Das 2006. Chronicle of a Struggle and Other Writings. Kashipur: Agragamee Publication. Das, Prafulla 2006b. ‘Kalinganagar Tribals take vow not to vacate land for industrialization’. The Hindu, January 11, p. 16. Das, Prafulla 2006d. ‘Churning in Orissa’. The Hindu, January 13, p. 13. Das, Prafulla 2006f. ‘Spreading resistance’. Frontline, Vol. 23, No. 2, February 10, pp. 35-36. Das, Veena 1995. Critical Events: An Anthropological Perspective on Contemporary India. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Dash, Bibekanand 2001. Kucheipadararu Maikanch (From Kucheipadar to Maikanch). Bhubaneswar: CEDS Communications. Farmer, Paul 1998. ‘On suffering and structural violence: A view from below’. In Arthur Kleinman, Veena Das and Margaret Lock (eds.) Social Suffering. Delhi: Oxford University Press. pp. 261-283. Foucault, Michel 1978. The History of sexuality, Vol. 1: An introduction. (translated from the French by Robert Hurley). England: Penguin Books Ltd. Foucault, Michel 1980. Power/knowledge: Selected interviews and other writings 1972-1977. Edited by Colin Gordon and translated by Colin Gordon, Leo Marshall, John Mepham, Kate Soper. Great Britain: The Harvester Press. Foucault, Michel 1982. ‘Afterword: The subject and power’, in Hubert L. Dreyfus and Paul Rabinow (eds) Michel Foucault: Beyond structuralism and hermeneutics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, pp. 208-26. Giri, Ananta Kumar 2005. Reflections and Mobilizations: Dialogues with Movements and Voluntary Organisations. New Delhi: Sage Publications. GOO (Government of Orissa), 2005a. ‘Resettlement and Rehabilitation Policy of Kalinga Nagar Industrial Complex’, Bhubaneswar: Revenue Department, Government of Orissa. Available at: http://www. orissa. gov. in/revenue/ R&RPOLICIES/Relief%20and%20Rehabilitation/kalinga%20Nagar/r&r. htm. GOO (Government of Orissa), 2006. ‘Orissa Rehabilitation and Resettlement Policy 2006’, Bhubaneswar: Revenue Department: Government of Orissa. Available at: http://www. orissa. gov. in/revenue/R&RPOLICIES/ Relief%20and%20Rehabilitation/R&R, 2006/r&R1. html.

The Politics and Poetics of Violence 481 GOO (Government of Orissa), 2007. ‘Amendments to Orissa Rehabilitation and Resettlement Policy 2006’, Bhubaneswar: Revenue and Disaster Management Department, Government of Orissa. Available at: http:// www. orissa. gov. in/revenue/R&RPOLICIES/Relief%20and%20 Rehabilitation/amendment_rr_2006/amendmentR&RPolicy2006. htm. IPT (Indian People’s Tribunal on Environment and Human Rights) 2007. Kashipur: An enquiry into mining and human rights violations in Kashipur, Orissa. Mumbai: Indian People’s Tribunal on Environment and Human Rights. KJLM (Kalahandi Janabadee Lekhaka Mancha) 2003. Vitamatira Ladhei (Struggle of the Native Land). Kucheipadar, Kashipur, Rayagada: Prakrutika Sampada Surakshya Parisada. Kleinman et al. 1997. Social suffering. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Kleinman, Arthur and Joan Kleinman 1986. ‘Somatization: The interconnections among culture, depressive experience, and meanings of pain’. In Arthur Kleinman and Bryon J. Good (eds) Culture and Depression. Berkeley and Los Angels: University of California Press, pp. 429-490. Kleinman, Arthur and Joan Kleinman 1994. ‘How bodies remember: Social memory and bodily experience of criticism, resistance, and delegitimation following China’s cultural revolution’. New Literary History, Vol. 25, No. 3, 25th Anniversary Issue (Part 1), pp. 707-723. Mohanty, Gopinath 1987. Paraja. [Originally published in Oriya. Translated to English by Bikram K. Das]. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Ortner, Sherry 1995. ‘Resistance and the problem of ethnographic refusal’, Comparative Studies of Society and History 37 (1): 173-93. Padel, Felix and Samarendra Das 2006. ‘Adivasis shining: Standing up to the metals industry in Orissa’ April 2006 version, based on a paper presented by Felix Padel at Sussex University in March 2005. Penglase, R. Ben 2005. ‘The shutdown of Rio de Jeneiro: The poetics of drug trafficker violence’. Anthropology Today, Vol. 21, No. 5, pp. 3-6. PUCL (People’s Union for Civil Liberties) 2005. A fact finding report on atrocity on the people of Kashipur, Rayagada, Orissa, protesting against the establishment of Alumina Industry. Cuttack, Bhubaneswar and Rayagada Units: People’s Union for Civil Liberties. PUDR (People’s Union for Democratic Rights) 2005. Halting the mining juggernaut: People’s struggle against Alumina Project in Orissa. Available at http://pudr.org/content/halting-mining-juggernaut-peoples-strugglesagainst-alumina-projects-orissa. Scarry, Eliane 1985. The Body in Pain: The unmaking and making of the world. New York: Oxford University Press. Scheper-Hughes, Nancy 1992. Death Without Weeping: The Violence in Everyday Life in Brazil. Berkeley: University of California Press. Scott, James 1985. The Weapons of the weak: Everyday forms of peasant resistance. New Haven: Yale University Press. Toppo, Biju and Meghnath 2003. Development flows from the barrel of the gun. (A documentary film produced by Akhara). Wilkinson, Iain 2005. Suffering: A Sociological Introduction. Cambridge: Polity Press.

25 Gram Swaraj: Experience of the Field Experiments in Remote Tribal Areas of Odisha Achyut Das Gram Swaraj in the Tribal areas is both a myth and a reality. Here are three case-studies in which the Tribals have asserted their rights to Swaraj in their own context. It is important to note that the assertions of the Tribals to decide their life and livelihood have not been recognised by the state. Increasingly, the state’s policies and laws have shown a clear anti-Tribal and anti-poor bias, and the attempts for Tribal selfrule have come in direct conflict with the state. Community Grain Bank in Tribal Areas My first visit to the Tribal regions of Koraput in Odisha, India in June 1980 was quite revealing. I saw Tribals eating mangos and saving kernels in front of their huts and creating a terribly unhygienic atmosphere. When asked, they told me that mango kernels are their food during the lean period of June to September when there is nothing else to eat. Ever since then the question of their food security (or insecurity) has troubled me much, and I discussed it with my Tribal friends repeatedly. In an area full of natural resources—land, water, forest—and good rainfall and widespread shifting cultivation, there should not be any food scarcity. But the reality was quite different. After building rapport with the Tribals, they disclosed that though they produce a range of crops, they have to give everything to the moneylenders. Tribals borrow money from the moneylenders on different occasions like marriages, funerals, festivals, witchcrafts etc. Festivals are generally celebrated after the harvesting seasons during which they spend a lot on food and liquor. The vicious cycle of money lending has been such that with rates of interest as high as 200%, they have mortgaged and lost their land, and their productive assets and have often been bonded. It was a revelation to me that many were the families, which had been bonded for generations. It was quite evident that the root cause of starvation in

Gram Swaraj: Experience of The Field Experiments in Remote... 483 Tribal areas has been money lending and debt bondage. After proper analysis, it was decided to set up Community Grain Banks by saving a part of the harvest of ragi and other millets. Each family has to contribute. They would store it at one place. During the lean period of monsoon months, the community grain banks would be opened. Whoever would borrow grains from grain bank would repay with 25% interest to help the grain bank grow. Initially, the grain banks were too small and we had to give a matching contribution. The villagers came up with various ideas to strengthen the grain bank. The whole community took up cultivation of some communal land and the harvest was added to the grain banks. The idea was to have a buffer stock so that in case there is a crop failure, there are enough savings. This idea caught the imagination of many Tribal villages and hundreds of grain banks were formed in far-flung areas. It was self-managed in terms of distribution, record keeping, addressing equity issues, conflict resolution etc. The management of the grain bank has been the responsibility of the village committee consisting of men and women. The seven members are generally elected in a village meeting each year. The committee collects an equal amount of grains from each family and distributes it as per the requirement of the family. The committee is also responsible for collection of the grains. If one family is not able to repay during the year, an opportunity was given to repay the following year. The committee was responsible for the functioning of the grain bank including proper storage. The decisions regarding the grain banks have been invariably democratic. The following are some of the ways in which grain banks have benefited the Tribals: ●

● ● ●

●

The community grain banks have strengthened the food security system in the Tribal regions. There has been substantial reduction of money lending. There has been an incentive to grow more food. The growth of community grain banks has led the Tribals to look at their resources like land, water and forest and their management. The grain banks have been the foundation for a self-sustaining development and village level democracy.

If the village self-sufficiency in terms of community grain banks is the first step to Gram Swaraj, the Tribals have shown subsequently that the governance of natural resources should be decided by them as part of their Gram Swaraj. Unfortunately, the governance of natural resources like land, water, and forest is controlled by the state by enacting various laws and policies which are not necessarily pro-Tribal.

484 Swaraj and the Reluctant State In Kashipur Block of Rayagada District in Odisha, there have emerged two movements which have challenged the state laws and policies. The assertion is the right over natural resources. These two movements are described in brief. The Hill-broom Struggle The Growing Commercial importance of non-timber forest produce (NTFP)/minor forest produce has led the state govt. to nationalise almost all the NTFP items which means that these can be sold only to government agencies. This has severely restricted access to the local forest dwelling communities, but has allowed the contractors and middlemen a backdoor entry through a system of lease and permits. This allows the contractors the monopolies over the entire forest divisions and in several instances over the entire state of a number of items of forest produce, allowing them to play havoc with the prices and even dictate to the government the support prices to be offered to the primary collectors. The Tribal Development Co-operative Corporation (TDCC) which has the responsibility to protect the Tribals and primary collectors invariably enters into deals with local traders and allows them to carry out the business of the items for which they hold the lease. With the authority of the TDCC behind them, these traders loot and exploit the Tribal communities for the NTFP items. In all this, the lease holders are ably assisted by the local forest department, who become unusually dutiful when it comes to protecting the interests of the traders. All this notwithstanding, the people in the Tribal hinterland have waged a longstanding battle for their rights over the minor forest produce. In this case, they have faced threats, violence, litigation, and much other harassment. On their side, these communities have resisted individually, tried to hoard the products collectively, submitted written petitions, demanded rights, demonstrated and protested in the district and state capitals. A few times, the govt. has lent them a sympathetic ear, but more often than not, they have been forced either by open hostilities or by sheer indifference of the government to keep quiet. The struggle started at a village called Mandibisi in Kashipur Block of Rayagada District in Odisha where the members of Mandibisi Mahila Mandal asserted that they had the rights to collect hill-brooms and sell them when they realised that the hill-brooms collected by them and sold to the traders and TDCC were fetching prices three to four times more in the open market. Their stock was seized by the TDCC with the help of the Forest Department and the police and cases were lodged against the women. But this struggle in 1994 had the support of many other Tribal groups. On March 29, in solidarity with the women of

Gram Swaraj: Experience of The Field Experiments in Remote... 485 Mandibisi Mahila Mandal and demanding rights over minor forest produce, thousands of people in 7 districts came out on the streets and demonstrated in front of various collectorates, presenting a memorandum of demands, as a policy alternative on the NTFP. After initial hesitation by the government, finally it was decided to change the policy to NTFP and leasing and marketing processes were liberalised. The leasing rights were given to panchayats and they could freely process and market NTFP items. Anti-Mining Struggle Kashipur in Rayagada District of Odisha is endowed with very rich bauxite being part of east coast deposits which form 70% of the country’s total deposits. The quality of the mineral is high-grade with low silica content. After the introduction of liberalisation in early nineties, many investors were attracted to prospect for bauxite in this area to have low cost production of high quality alumina. Kashipur has a number of small and big bauxite plateaus most notable among them being Baphlimali, Kodingamali, Sasbahumali, Sijimali. In 1992, INDAL entered into an agreement with Orissa Mining Corporation for the transfer of lease for the Baphlimali plateau and subsequently approached Government of Orissa for permission to set up a 100 per cent Export Oriented Unit of an alumina refinery plant. Other international players in the aluminium sector like Norsk Hydro of Norway and Alcan of Canada joined with Indal in equity participation and Utkal Alumina International Limited (UAIL) was formed. In 1993 Tisco also joined UAIL but withdrew subsequently. Almost at the same time as UAIL, Larsen & Toubro (L&T) entered into partnership with ALCOA for a prospecting lease over Sijimali and Kutrumali deposits. The spectre of displacement and loss of land and livelihood was loomed all over the region. Resolved not to submit to a fate thrust upon them by cold blooded market forces, the people began with petitions and appeals to the administration, and than rallies and road blocks as the state continued in its indifference. The most important issues raised were: ●

●

●

Land acquisition in the name of public purpose does not equate to Tribal interest. The influx of non-Tribals into the area will change the nature of the Scheduled Area defined by the Indian Constitution. The identity, culture and socio-economic environment of their indigenous culture will be affected, Due consultation with the affected population was totally missing.

Three different organisations Baphlimali Suraksha Parishad, and

486 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Prakrutik Sampad Surakhya Parishad were formed to protest against mining activities. Later on more such organisations were formed to oppose L&T and Aditya Birla Group. All these people’s organisations had steering groups and had strategic linkages with the national movements like National Alliance of People’s Movements (NAPM), Narmada Bachao Andolan (NBA) and other national groups. As the agitation gathered momentum, the corporate interests struck back. The backlash was through criminal and lumpen elements. This led obviously to a confrontation in many villages between the pro and ant-mining groups. Cases were registered but anti-mining people were arrested whereas pro-mining people were left untouched. The local NGOs and their functionaries were also attacked. But under the leadership of Prakrutik Sampad Surakshya Parishad (PSSP), the movement against UAIL gathered momentum and UAIL officials were not allowed to enter the area. The corporates exerted pressure on the government to quell people’s protests. Neither the state nor the corporates even considered opening up channels of communication with the affected communities to convince them of the stated benefits of the mining. May be no actual benefits existed which would motivate people in support of mining. On the contrary, the state increased the police presence in the area to intimidate the anti-mining people. A police outpost was opened and indiscriminate arrests were made. Meanwhile, Kashipur anti-mining movement had drawn the attention of many human rights groups and the media. Global campaigns were launched in Norway and Canada. Many human rights activists visited Kashipur to show solidarity. Many civil society organisations also visited Kashipur to understand why there was resistance to mining and industrialisation. Gram Sabhas were held and spontaneous resolutions were passed opposing mining. An all party committee was formed by the initiative of the corporates to build up pressure and gatecrash into the mining area. In December, 2000, there was a confrontation between this all party committee and anti-mining people followed by a police firing killing three Tribals and injuring many. This led to tremendous pressure on the MNCs like Norsk Hydro which led to its withdrawal from UAIL. The brutal police firing was condemned by many and the govt. instituted a Judicial Commission of Inquiry headed by Justice P.K. Mishra. In 2003, Justice PK Mishra Commission Report was submitted and it was presented in the State Assembly in 2004. Though the report had indicted the police for excesses, it did not suggest any clear action to be taken. Surprisingly, the Commission recommended the mining operations. In September, 2004, the district collector passed a resolution in the Palli Sabha by surrounding the village with 500 armed policemen. At gun-point, UAIL was about to start work. However, there was pressure on Alcan by

Gram Swaraj: Experience of The Field Experiments in Remote... 487 Canadian civil society organisations to withdraw from UAIL. It sold its share in 2007 giving HINDALCO Group full ownership of the UAIL. The large scale violation of human rights was alarming. The violation of Panchayats Extensions to Scheduled Areas (PESA) Act 1996 was evident in all respects. The UAIL has finally resumed its activities with the support of the state repression and disregard for people’s wishes. Today, the entire Tribal population is facing displacement, migration as also food and nutritional insecurities. They are facing many kinds of insecurities– Food and livelihood, water and health, and energy and Ecological. Keeping these in mind, the community should embark upon a micro-plan based on the principles of Gram Swaraj which has social, economic and environmental sustainability built into it. Decentralised planning is an expression of decentralised democracy which can be termed as Gram Swaraj. This is the only way the Tribals can save themselves from hunger, displacement, marginalisation, identity crisis and eventual extinction. The growing violence in the Tribal areas due to the discontent can also be minimised by implementation of Gram Swaraj in letter and spirit, Will the state and the civil society take note of this?

26 Implementing the ‘Hind Swaraj’ Vision: An Experiment at Navadarshanam, India Atmaram Saraogi As an adolescent, I had some uncanny feeling that the way economic and related activities were carried out in our society was not the right way. However, as fate would have it, circumstances took me to the world of business and industry as a professional, and finally I became chief executive officer (CEO) of a large industrial group in 1980. I could then clearly see that the way developmental and economic activities were planned and implemented were neither benefiting the common man nor addressing the larger societal issues. So, while doing my job as the CEO, I simultaneously started my search for the right path. It took me to many people—including the political class at the highest level in India, places and institutions, across the country. But search, deeper studies, and reflection left me dissatisfied. This journey also took me to Gandhi’s Sevagram Ashram, Wardha. One thing led to the other and I started feeling that in Gandhi’s thoughts on development and governance lies the solution to India’s problems, rather of mankind as a whole. During this process, I also read ‘Hind Swaraj’ and several commentaries on it and met their authors too. I read T.S. Ananthu’s paper ‘Gandhi’s Hind Swaraj—Its appeal to me’, 1982. I was very impressed with his novel exposition of Gandhi’s thoughts. We first met at his home at Gandhi Smarak Nidhi (Gandhi National Memorial Fund) campus, Rajghat, New Delhi, and we instantly became friends. At that time, Ananthu was a Research Fellow at the Gandhi Peace Foundation, New Delhi. Together with his wife Jyoti, who was a postdoctoral Research Associate at the IIT Delhi, he had started a Study Circle to look into the science-spirituality and technology-ecology connections. By 1988, when I first met Ananthu, 15 years of painstaking work had taken place and the members of the Study Circle had been able to identify the possibility of a new kind of science—building on the

Implementing the ‘Hind Swaraj’ Vision 489 foundations already provided by Relativity Theory and Quantum mechanics—that would enable science to accept the reality of the spiritual dimensions which are beyond the senses and the intellect. This, in turn, would lead to a deeper understanding of the forces behind ecology, and would then result in technologies which would preserve rather than destroy the environment. I became closely associated with Jyoti and Ananthu and their friends. We all were keen to work on the alternative vision of development from the one pursued by the state. So, in 1990, we as a group decided to set up a Trust called ‘Navadarshanam’ (‘New Vision’) to try and implement some of these ideas in practice. Circumstances conjured up and instead of five acres, we ended up having 112 acres of land next to Ganganhalli hamlet in Tamilnadu, about 50 km from Bangalore. This land was completely degraded and unproductive at that time. We have since conducted experiments in the following areas: 1. Eco-restoration Merely by preventing grazing, the land has been converted from wasteland to a nascent forest. There were only three trees when we took over the land in 1990, but now there are more than hundred thousand trees—most likely more, including several thousand sandalwood trees. They have not been planted by us but have appeared on their own, planted by the mysterious forces of nature invisible to the senses. This is an illustration of how invisible forces that are beyond our senses and intellect are primary in determining the laws that govern this physical universe. Our earth is actually alive, and all we did was allowed that force, which is always trying to restore its ecology, full freedom to do so. Therefore, instead of planting trees ourselves, we allowed nature to do so, and in the process have created a natural forest from degraded land. One by-product of this development is that soil conditions have improved dramatically. Another by-product of this ecorestoration has been a sharp rise in the water level, which is falling rapidly in all other areas in and around Bangalore. This has happened despite the fact that Navadarshanam is situated in a rain shadow region, the average rainfall being only 17 inches per year. 2. Natural Farming On this improved soil, in limited and carefully selected areas, fruit saplings and a few vegetables and cereals/pulses have been planted with minimum disturbance to those trees and bushes which have come up naturally. No chemicals and pesticides are used, the faith being that a healthy soil will take care of all plants in its bosom. This process is aided by lots of mulching around the plants. Thus, the practice followed

490 Swaraj and the Reluctant State has been the opposite of modern agriculture, where tilling, watering, weeding and chemicals are stressed, and where monoculture is the norm. The fact that the land and plants grown at Navadarshanam are healthy and yield very good quality grain, vegetables and fruits seems to confirm our faith that modern agriculture technology, especially genetic engineering with its harmful effects to our health and the environment, is not needed to provide humanity with adequate food. 3. Health and Food Based on the principles taught by a Swamiji of a nearby Ashram, food items and cooking methods have been classified according to digestibility/acidity-alkalinity. Diseases are seen as ‘absence of ease’, caused by undigested food, which disturb the ecology of the body. The subtler (‘pranic’) forces responsible for restoring this ecology are encouraged to play their role more effectively by changing our food patterns such that digestion is easy and effective. Food items developed along these principles have been made available to our network of friends (mainly in Bangalore). These food items being both healthy as well as tasty, several thousand families have adopted them in their daily diet, thus sparking a big change in their daily lives and a chain reaction in the community. 4. Energy Because of the ecologically damaging nature of the technologies that generate power these days, and also their centralised and userunfriendly administration, connection from the state’s grid has been shunned right from the beginning. Instead, all power requirements at Navadarshanam are generated locally, in the following ways: — Gobar gas (generated from a local but endangered cow species that the Trust is preserving and multiplying) provides for cooking needs; — this is supplemented by charcoal which is made in a simple kiln designed and made on the land, the input to this kiln being deadwood collected from within the land. Wood stoves are also used when needed. — Homes are designed in such a way that natural breeze ensures not even a fan is needed even in the summer months, and no artificial lighting is required during daytime. At night, the lighting requirements are taken care of by solar panels which charge batteries during the daytime. — For water pumping also, the same solar panels are used during daytime, when the sun is strong enough to provide the required power;

Implementing the ‘Hind Swaraj’ Vision 491 — solar power is also used for heating and, in a limited way, for cooking. — Wind power is used to supplement solar power, especially on cloudy days. — When extra energy is needed, this is generated by using a diesel engine but without using a drop of diesel—substituting it with oil from the locally available seeds of the honge tree—these are wild trees growing on their own in abundance. 5. Housing All dwelling units at Navadarshanam have been constructed with the help of alternative technologies, using eco-friendly concepts (such as compressed mud blocks) and locally available material and labour. They require minimum amount of cement and steel, look very elegant, require no plastering, are very comfortable to stay in, and cost just Rs. 350 per sq ft. The designing part is taken care of by professional architect friends of Navadarshanam. At Navadarshanam, these alternative technologies are not an end in itself. They are a means to an end, the end being ‘Swaraj’ in the sense in which Gandhi had defined it. Utilising the natural environment created, each resident attempts to attain mastery over the self in one’s own way. Rather than wait for the whole country or world to follow Gandhi’s ideals, those staying there and others associated with Navadarshanam try to do so individually, making inner work rather than outer accumulation the aim of their life. Right now, there are several village workers plus seven families who stay there permanently, and are joined every day by several other villagers who come from the nearby hamlet on a daily basis. Some of our trustees have built a number of dwelling units who, too, come and live here for long periods. In addition, many people come from India and abroad for shorter or longer periods of time and some of them also stay here. All eat together in a common kitchen where food is cooked along the health food principles. The atmosphere is free of competition and acrimony, and in their small way the group tries to follow the principles of ‘Hind Swaraj’ in their lives. The decision-making process in the foundation and running of the institution has been based on building consensus, both in the functioning of the trust as also in day-to-day management, following the Gandhian philosophy. There are occasions when differences arise but these are resolved in the same manner. There has not been a single occasion in the last 20 years that we had to go in for a voting on any matter. While undertaking this experiment, it has been our objective that the benefits of these developmental efforts are shared equitably by all

492 Swaraj and the Reluctant State irrespective of the status of an individual. This has led to the formation of a Self-Help Group trust where the workers, chosen by themselves, in the Ashram are the trustees. The surplus of this trust, which sells its products, are shared by all the workers, including those from the local village, among themselves in a pre-determined manner, and none by the Navadarshanam Trust. All these people eat together with other residents of the Ashram along with the guests, staying or visiting. What has inspired and guided us throughout our journey in this endeavour is the alternative vision of development. It is to see that the finite resources of the planet Earth are conserved and used in a manner that these regenerate themselves without causing least harm to the living beings of all forms. More importantly, these are shared equitably by all living together as a community with consideration for the future generations. Equally important is the objective that all these experiments should have a demonstrative effect on those who visit or learn about it. We have not done a survey but believe that each of our experiment has been used by thousands across the country and abroad.

27 Recent Challenges to Gender Inequality and Gram-Swaraj Experiments for Sustainable Development: A Case Study of the District of Bankura Sujit Kumar Chattopadhyay The Theoretical Context The human resources approach uses various social relations as chief indicators of development. The question of sustainable development does not have any meaning if it is directed towards the legitimation of various unequal social relations. Gender inequality is perhaps the most pervasive form of social inequalities in India. So steps to sustainable development must start with a challenge to gender inequality. It is recognised now nearly throughout the world that sustainable development of women is not only limited to the nation’s development programmes and its impact on them. ‘Development of women’ has been defined by the world conference of the UN Decade for Women held at Copenhagen in July 1980 as follows: ‘Development is here interpreted to mean total development including development in the political, economic, social, cultural and other dimensions of human life as also to the physical, moral, intellectual and cultural growth of the human person. Women’s development should not only be viewed as an issue in social development but should be seen as essential component in every dimension of development.’1 So apart from the economic aspect of development there are other moral, social and cultural aspects which can be best addressed by the NGOs, secondary groups, and self-help groups rather than state, government and other political institutions.

Another important observation is that general development does not necessarily mean development of women. The data collected from the international, national and local levels have already proved the importance of taking up at least some policies exclusively for women’s development. The basic aim of these policies will be to open a

494 Swaraj and the Reluctant State meaningful dialogue with policy makers to make them appreciate exactly what it is that women want and in what form. Above all, the programme of ‘Structural Adjustment’ inspired by globalisation and placed as a condition by international capitalism is not conducive to the sustainable development of women. In the name of ‘Structural Adjustment’ a globalised version of ‘traditional’, ‘local’ or ‘ethnic’ culture has come to dominate. As a result, the rural agricultural societies like India are undergoing a vast change.2 These changes are planned to drive the women out of their traditional culture and traditional mode of production. So women in third world countries are going to be culturally alienated. Lastly, it is important to speak about the relation between empowerment and sustainable development. So instead of a politics-centric concept of ‘empowerment’ what is needed is a suitable way of cooptation of the women in an alternative development scheme based on indigenous knowledge and resources and other sustainable symptoms. These issues are highly relevant in understanding the recent development process of the district of Bankura. This process has posed a challenge to gender inequality and at the same time it has brought in some responses to sustainable development. Purpose of the Study As a study in rural sociology, this research seeks to examine the interrelationship between gender ineqality, Gram-Swaraj movement and sustainable development on the basis of case materials from a civilsocietal association like Gandhi Vichar Parishad of the district of Bankura. The district of Bankura having 92% of rural population, represents so many retrogressive features that have been considered by the sociologists as detrimental to the development specially of the women. Among them the gender inequality produced through the complex intertwining of so many social, cultural and economic factors is perhaps the most pervasive fom of social inequality in a rural society like Bankura. Since all forms of inequality and discrimination support ‘exclusion’, and hinder ‘social inclusion’ they are treated as a real challenge to democracy and also to development in all forms. Democracy, in spite of its popularity as a form of government of the ‘people’, is often noticed as a system which is prone to continuously exclude women from the category of ‘people’. Theoretically within liberalism, women were not easily accepted as citizens. Recent years have seen some abortive efforts to introduce what has come to be known as the Reservation Bill for women in India. That women are not adequately represented in the Parliament is widely accepted in the twelfth Lok Sabha; out of 547 members of the Lok Sabha only 32 were women.3 Against this backdrop of the failure of political democracy to

Recent Challenges to Gender Inequality and Gram-Swaraj... 495 include women in government and governance as an active category, Gram-Swaraj experiment comes as a viable alternative with the idea of locating power to where it belongs i.e. power to the people. In the concept of Gram-Swaraj, the two basic units are village and family. So Gram-Swaraj experiments are aimed at building up these village infrastuctures with concrete work programmes which ultimately could mature into self-governed, self-sustained village republics of the Gandhian concept. The villagers are motivated to constitute their own statutory collective body at the village level, called village council (Lok Samity). The village council runs and governs all the affairs of the village that operates in a communitarian pattern that nurses in its care the essence of a republican village with its combined judiciary, legislative and executive. The village council formulates development plans and programmes, establishes priorities, determines budget, secures and disburses development funds, keeps accounts, maintains community assets, settles village disputes, forms rules and regulations, organises community living and applies negative sanctions to individualistic leanings that are determental to the community interests. Every member is committed to function in a non-partisan spirit when he is in the Gram Sabha for village development programme. In this way Gram-Swaraj experiment ensures sustainable development in the society.4 This study is an attempt to locate Gram-Swaraj as an alternative version of conventional paradigms of development. In that sense the enormous scope of sustainable development hidden in Gram-Swaraj idea is also addressed here with reference to the particular empirical case study of Gandhi Vichar Parishad (G.V.P.) in the district of Bankura. Secondly, another purpose of the necessity of the co-option of the villagers, specially the women in the process of development, a message clearly enshrined in the Gandhian idea of Gram-Swaraj. Rural People are not habituated to the language of power as a form of domination. But rather they use power as form of manifestation. Since under Gram-Swaraj power evolves from within themselves, people use it as a norm of sharing. In in reality ‘practice of exclusion’ has been a critical political game in today’s India for the retention and sharing of ‘power’, which is, by nature, directed from ‘top’ and applied downwards in the hierarchical power-relation and accordingly is prone more to ‘exclude’ than to ‘include’. Under these circumstances the villagisation of political power under Gram-Swaraj concept can be a turning point.5 For Laswell and Kaplan ‘power is participation in the making of decisions’.6 But this is possible probably in an ideal situation of goverance and that ideal situation is ensured by Gram-Swaraj. Thirdly, above all, this study wants to formulate some measures as to how the Gram-Swaraj experiment has been a tool of fighting gender inequality by the

496 Swaraj and the Reluctant State ‘womenfolk of Bankura’, in social, economic and cultural fields. Exercise of power inherently involves resistance. So the gender power has also to be countered by some aspects of popular culture, and the culture of the rural people, in favour of a more equal relationship between men and women. Resistance to the ideological forms of gender inequalities by popular culture is also an object of my enquiry. Fourthly, this study seeks to unfold the linkage between ‘women empowerment’ and ‘GramSwaraj movement’. The democratic governance in India today is popularising the linkage between governance and women’s empowerment. ‘Empowerment’ as defined in World Bank’s ‘Source Book’ of 2002 (Written by Deepa Narayan) has four key elements: ‘access to information, inclusion and participation, accountability, and local organisational capacity’.7 But these elements are seen to be totally absent or hampered in the socalled ‘liberal governance’ of India as a result of which women have been placed and have fared unequally in the governmental and developmental paradigms. The case study with special reference to the programmes and functioning of Gandhi Vichar Parishad will prove as to how Gram-Swaraj experiments have been successful in spelling out these key elements of women’s empowerment. Methods The observations, analysis and conclusions reached in this study are based on in-depth interviews, surveys and fieldworks. Additionally this study also refers to the existing documentation of the forms of popular culture. We have also taken the help of other books on feminism and feminist issues with a view to enrich the understanding of the gender aspect of the problem. Furthermore, annual reports of the concerned NGO, Bankura and other cultural organisations, reports prepared by the office of the District Magistrate, Bankura and presented to the committee on the affairs of women and children of the West Bengal Legislative Assembly have been used. Some data from the census report, 2001 have been presented in order to locate the problems in a recent perspective. Since the major portion of the study is empirical, this study is primarily grounded on interviews and fieldworks. In the words of Fred N. Kerlinger, ‘the interview is perhaps the ubiquitous method of obtaining information from the people.8 The interviews were conducted at two levels, individual level and group level. At the individual level different persons were interviewed in singly either in their camp or at their residence for collecting information about various aspects of their development programmes. In-depth method of interview was also applied to the individuals concerned for revealing important aspects of ‘psycho-social’ situations which are otherwise not readily available

Recent Challenges to Gender Inequality and Gram-Swaraj... 497 but are crucial for understanding the dynamics of gender inequality and resistance. Some individuals were interviewed more than once, so long as new information was being received. Interviews were also conducted with a view to cross-check the data available either from office personnel, existing literature of G.V.P. or from any other individual. The interviewed persons ranged from the top secretary to the remote rural women. The names of the persons interviewed have been presented in the respective places of the study. Group interviews were conducted mainly to get the feedback on the advancement of the programmes of sustainable development of women by G.V.P. The other purpose of ‘group interview’ was to probe the role of ‘self-help’ groups in the emergence of new leadership pattern by increasing the power of suggestibility and decision-making of the women in the rural areas of Bankura. Symptoms of women’s consciousness against liquor, dowry, child marriage, and female illiteracy were clearly noticed in the group behaviours. Subjective experiences and emotional responses of the group members to their respective social settings were also received in the group interviews. Such interviews were conducted at Keotpara, Dompara, Rajagram, Christiandanga and a few other places. However interviews were conducted in the form of a group discussion and they can be classified as non-directive interviews. Surveys used in this study are mostly based on the findings of G.V.P. and government departments. Some surveys made by CARE, West Bengal have helped us to understand the actual ground reality of the gender status in rural areas. Some surveys were also undertaken by us in order to collect data about the women and women related issues of the covered villages under G.V.P. Some surveys are concerned with large and widely diverse groups of women functioning within self-help groups and Mahila Samitis. These surveys have helped us to understand the income status of the women after joining the group activities. However surveys made in this study are of primary and secondary nature. Besides these methods, this research also makes use of the books, pamphlets, periodicals and documentary materials in the libraries. So the library method has inspired the researcher to consult the existing documentation of the process of development and this method has also helped in eliminating the possibility of unnecessary duplication of the efforts. In addition to the field survey, interview method, library method ‘participant observation ‘ method was also used. But the limitation here should also be mentioned that participant observation programme was conducted in an irregular and a time bound mmmer. The subjects were from the low socio-economic class and were in the age group of 30-60.

498 Swaraj and the Reluctant State The avarage literacy of the female subjects was class two and above. However no minimum standard ofliteracy was fixed during interviews. Subjects were informed that it was a study designed to investigate the nature and present position of sustainable development programmes augmented by Gram-Swaraj experiments by Gandhi Vichar Parishad with a special goal of fighting the ills of gender inequality in social, economic and cultural fields. The Case of Bankura—An Empirical Study Bankura is a district of the state of West Bengal. The district has three sub-divisions, three municipalities, twenty-two blocks and 5,187 villages. According to census 2001, the total population of Bankura is 31,92,695 of which male population is 16,36,002 and female population is 15,56,693. Scheduled caste and scheduled tribe population is more than 13 lakh. Percentage of rural population is 92.63 and sex ratio (per 1,000 males) is 953. Demographic features ofthe district (as per census 2001) are presented below: Table 1: Demographic Features (as per Census 2001) 1. Population

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

Total : 31,92,695 Male : 16,36,002 Female: 15,56,693 Scheduled Caste 9,97,408 Scheduled Tribe 3,30,783 Literates 17,50,959 Main Workers 9,45,377 Marginal Workers 4,82,213 Non-Workers 17,64,240 Cultivators 4,39,743 Literacy Rate (excluding 0-6 population) 63.84 % of Rural Population to Total 92.63 % of Urban Population to Total 7.37 Sex Ratio (per 1,000 male) 953

Source: Census 2001.

Side by side with these demographic features, when we go in for an enquiry into the women’s conditions of the district of Bankura the general picture looks gloomy. Gender inequality is a serious problem faced by the women of the district. From the letters of Kalvin, the District Magistrate of Jungle Mahal it is revealed that in the period 1815-27 ‘Sati’ burning was widely in vogue as an orthodox Hindu social custom in Bankura.9 At present various symptoms of gender inequality are grossly present. Child marriage, female illiteracy, custom of dowry, wife beating, etc. are still problems in the way of development. According

Recent Challenges to Gender Inequality and Gram-Swaraj... 499 to a UN report of 1978, illiteracy among women and child marriages were widely prevalent in India. Unfortunately, these sharvations hold good even today. And these shortcomings apply with greater force to Bankura than to most other places in India. Before the implementation of the Integrated Nutrition and Health Programmes (I.N.H.P.) a survey was conducted by CARE, West Bengal in five blocks of the district on health and nutrition status of women. Data collected from this survey show a very high degree of gender inequality. It was seen that 6% women were married at the age of below 15 years. 68% women were married at the age of below 18 years. And 26% women were married at the age of 18 and above 89% women became pregnant at the age of below 21 years. In 73 cases out of hundred, it was detected that the male child gets a higher share of food. In 71 cases out of hundred, the male child gets preference in education in these blocks. A gross discrimination between male and female regarding food was also detected. It was seen that in 60 cases out of hundred, the male child gets better quality of food than the female child. The census 2001 also shows a dismal picture of the percentage of female literacy in these five blocks. The percentage of female literacy of the block in Bankura is 20%, Chhatna 20.5% G. Ghati 20.5%, Saltora 17.15% and Sonamukhi-20.25%.10 From the above figures some hints about the social placement of the target group of the programmes of sustainable development are available. It has been recognised by all organisations working in this field that in Bankura gender inequality must be addressed for the sustainable development of women. Recent challenges to the gender inequality in Bankura are coming from civil societal associations. On the discussions of how civil societal associations play a role in lessening the gender inequality, the name of Gandhi Vichar Parishad comes first. Gandhi Vichar Parishad (G.V.P.) and Gram-Swaraj movement There are a number of institutions in the district of Bankura which are in varying degrees associated with the programme of sustainable development of women and accordingly have challenged the hoary treditions of gender inequality of the district. But of them, Gandhi Vichar Parishad can be taken as a representative body. G.V.P.’s programmes for women are attractive both in terms of economy and gender. Gandhi Vichar Parishad is a non-government organisation established in Bankura in 1956 in the background of Gandhian ideals of ‘GramSwaraj’.11 ‘Gram-Swaraj’ aims at self-reliance of the villages to the extent where they, themselves, will manage to take up and continue their development programmes. Gandhi Vichar Parishad is of the view that

500 Swaraj and the Reluctant State gender inequality is also a product of popular culture or rather it is a non-material expression of what is going on in the material world. So without addressing the gender inequality in the fields of culture, economy, education, awareness, family and community the real battle against it would hardly be successful. So some programmes for the sustainable development of the women will be more useful in challenging gender inequality. Streamlining popular culture will also go side by side so that ultimately these two i.e. economy and culture could mature into a common eradication of gender inequality. With this view in mind G.V.P. has formed a village based organisation named ‘Loksamiti’. By now more than 150 villages have been covered under Gram-Swaraj by G.V.P. The core concept and operative principles of the Gram-Swaraj movement are– (i) All adult persons of the village shall be the members of the Lok Samity. (ii) All decisions (of Lok Samiti) shall be on concensus. (iii) All support or facilities shall begin to be provided from the lowest rung of the society on principles of ‘Antyodaya’. (iv) All disputes of the village shall be settled within the village and must not be taken out for adjudication. (v) To work in co-operation for the realisation of the family ideals in societal behavioural context. On the basis of these principles women’s development programmes have been taken up by Gandhi Vichar Parisad through 138 Mahila Samitis in rural as well as in urban a reas. The objectives of these Mahila Samitis are– (a) To be united with a view to overcome the constraints faced by women in social, political economic and cultural fields. (b) To raise voice against the elements of gender inequality in popular culture specially in folk songs and not to sing them. (c) To have sustainable knowledge and communication about the society of rural women. (d) To make the women economically self-reliant. (e) To use those folk songs which are progressive, socially relevant and which carry the message of social awareness in the attainment of the objective of sustainable development of women.

Recent Challenges to Gender Inequality and Gram-Swaraj... 501 Table 2: A List of Some Selected Mahila Samitis is given below: Name of Mahila Samities 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

Kankradihi Bhikurdihi Jethia Patalkhuri Nandigram Khasbahar Moidhagoria Barbedya Bhakatpara Bakultala Malpara Kankata Dompara (Lokepur) Christiandanga Dinagram

Year of Formation

Total Members

% of Participation

1993 1996 1994 1994 1994 1996 1996 1996 1994 1994 1994 1994 1994 1997 1995

35 47 35 45 80 26 21 27 40 40 43 25 50 35 26

100% 52% 90% 41% 85% 90% 80% 90% 80% 80% 65% 60% 70% 48% 100%

Source: Gandhi Vichar Parishad, Bankura.

Awarness Programmes With a view to achieve these objectives, Gandhi Vichar Parishad constantly carries out group awareness programmes on health, nutrition, family planning, literacy, care of pregnant and lactating mothers, women’s protection laws and women’s rights. The women’s development cell of Gandhi Vichar Parishad has taken up a unique programme of training up four women from each Samiti so that subsequently the women can manage to hold these camps on their own and continue the awareness programme without any help or intervention from outside. Thus about 552 village level women social workers have been trained. Each social worker works with 15-20 women in their ‘Matribaithak’. Once in a month a big meeting of lead group social workers of all Samitis is convened. Before the formation ofMahila Samitis the condition of women was miserable. I have met some members of Mahila Samitis of Rajagram, Dompara, Malpara, Kankata, Christiandanga, Nandigram etc. On the basis of interview with these members I have come to know that prior to Mahila Samiti the women could not even think of their development. They had no liberty of participating in meetings or programmes. The average age at marriage of the girls of the villages was 13-15 years. But now after the struggle, the situation has changed a lot. Gita Bauri, Secretary, Patalkhuri Mahila Samiti has decided not to get her daughter married before 18 years. Women members now have accepted the temporary and permanent

502 Swaraj and the Reluctant State methods of birth control to plan their families. Earlier these women did not have any say on the plans of mariage, family planning, female education, income generation etc. As a result, gender inequality is sharply declining. The following table is an index: Name of Samiti 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. l5.

Small Baithaks of Awareness

Kankradihi Bhikurdihi Jethia Patalkhuri Nandigram Khasbahar Majdhagaria Barbedya Bhakatpara Bakultala Malpara Kankata Dompara (Lokepur) Khristiandanga dinargram

Total

Total Big Baithaks

244 62 114 102 152 25 52 43 126 103 126 92 107 48 198

72 25 78 65 95 15 26 24 85 46 63 41 53 28 97

1594

813

Source: Gandhi Vichar Parishad, Bankura.

Name of Samitis 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

Kankradihi Bhikurdihi Jethia Patalkhuri Nandigram Khasbahar Majdhagaria Barbedya Bhakatpara Baku!tala Malpara Kankata Dompara (Lokepur) Christiandanga Dinargram

Number of reproductive couples

Adoption of permanent method of birth control

52 45 48 90 82 38 34 35 62 35 75 30 55 41 37

47 25 41 75 70 22 21 24 48 25 62 25 43 30 30

Source: Gandhi Vichar Parishad, Bankura

In these baithaks (meetings/sittings) of the Mahila Samitis folk songs i.e., bhadu, tushu and jhumur are used frequently to inspire the

Recent Challenges to Gender Inequality and Gram-Swaraj... 503 members about the agenda of social awareness. Sometimes they, themselves, are composing songs on the new issues of women’s development in the fields of health, nutrition, education, income generation and family management. These new songs are not always matching with their original style. Considerable changes are taking place in word and tunes. But that change does not undermine the basic objectives of these Mahila Samitis—fight for equality and right to power. In a meeting held on January 27, 2008 at Dompara (Lokepur) the members of the Mahila Samitis such as Maya Malia, Karuna Malia, Durga Malia, Sima Das and Anita Das and others sang many songs. Such a song is: Bhadu Don’t be sorry, Don’t be gloomy. We, women have formed groups Let us narrate the results. we are now self-reliant We now manage family independently, With our education, health, and income and Mahila Samiti Raksha Committtee, we will take great care of you, Oh! Bhadu, Don’t be sorry, Don’t be gloomy. Self-Help Groups Through Mahila Gandhi Vichar Parishad 138 self-help groups (S.H.G.) have been formed to augment the income generation activities and decision making power of the women and to inspire the women to acquire a social space for maintaining their separate existence and identity. S.H.G. movement is a dynamic experiment of co-ordinating the social responsibilities of women with the techniques of economy and production. According to the ethic of S.H.G. the power of top-level rulers is artificial and their terms of development are dictated and no more sustainable. So S.H.G. movement is a refutation of political intervention and it is a replacement of political power by a more social and non-violent form Instead of taking up development programme from the top, women are working through programmes based on indigenous knowledge and resources. According to Isabel Yeper and Sophie Charlier the outcomes of S.H.G. movement are: (a) (b) (c) (d) (e) (f) (g) (h)

To try to present different endeavours of women in their totality To establish a cooperative economy To establish the identity of women To increase the decision making power at the family and community levels. To inspire the income generation activities through knitting, weaving etc. To participate in the community development To influence the political decisions and To open up a new route to political empowerment.12

504 Swaraj and the Reluctant State S.H.G. under G.V.P. have linked up the issue of gender equality with the programme of sustainable development. On May 17-18, 2003 a seminar on ‘Empowerment of women at grassroot level in the district of Bankura’ was organised by Gandhi Vichar Parishad and in that seminar indigenous knowledge and resources were considered highly useful for the empowerment of rural women, Self-help groups have taken up the point against wife-beating (mostly seen among the scheduled castes and scheduled tribes of Bankura). In a number of cases, S.H.G. women have given protection to some oppressed women unitedly. There is a direct correlation between consumption of alcohol by males and wife-beating. So S.H.Gs. have waged a battle against liquour. Mahila Samitis and S.H.G.s have formed ‘Mahila Shakti Raksha Committees’ in the covered villages. One such M.S.R.C. of Rajasthan played a historical role in anti-liquor movement on April 8, 2004. In Rajagram and several villages alcohol used to be a social vice for hundreds of years. That was the cause of all distress of the rural families in the area. Administration and police also failed to abolish the curse. But M.S.R.C. has been successful in convincing all women, children and even males against this curse. About 500 women from Mahila Samitis of other covered villages participated in the anti-liquor movement on April 8, 2004. Subsequently on June 13, 2004 the women of M.S.R.C. organised a procession against the addiction to liquor. The movement was led by Jadabi Sahana, the women’s leader of Nandigram Sarvodaya Ashram under Gandhi Vichar Parishad, Bankura. In this movement against liquor Tushu songs were used for motivating the women of the area, Such a song is: If they come to sell liquor Oh! Tushu, We will beat them with a broom stick We will break the law and Will punish them for their defiant attitude. Another song of the anti-liquor movement is: Oh, Tusumani, Mahila Samiti of Rajagram has awakened to your call, Sipping the country liquor The curse of liquor finished the villages The call of Tushu has come Stop the business of liquor, The women’s group will end the curse of liquor and gambling.13 Mahila Shanti Raksha Committee has been so powerful and popular

Recent Challenges to Gender Inequality and Gram-Swaraj... 505 that it is also settling various disputes related to women, particularly matrimonial disputes. The volume of their work and devotion to their causes have already given them the place of ‘socially formed lok adalat’ for women. This is how the women have established their ‘right to power’ in the development process of the areas. The change in the position of women has been expressed in a song composed by Jadabi Sahana, the women’s leader of Nandigram Sarvodaya Ashram, Gandhi Vichar Parishad, Bankura. The song is: ‘Equal Rights’ Oh! Feminists, come in a group Oh! The group of women, Don’t keep mum, Let us go to develop the village of our own You see the news flash How many women are dying daily Cases of wife-killing keep going up Alas! What a society it is! In the field of health, education, nutrition Women are utterly neglected. Why such discrimination. We need equal rights of females and males Equal rights of females and males.14 Small Savings and Food Security Each Mahila Mandal has formed its own fund with small savings through a monetary subscription from every member with a view to attain economic self-reliance. The amount accumulated in this manner is deposited in an account with local bank. The members are on the one hand increasing their income through weaving, manufacturing of side bags, incense sticks, decorative materials, fishing, vegetables, income from animal husbandry and live-stock and on the other hand they are giving a portion of their income to the community fund which is again used for running their micro enterprises for production. The total amount thus accumulated is divided into (i) Working capital and (ii) Fixed deposits. At the beginning, the women’s development cell of G.V.P. trained them in maintaining accounts and in organising the economic programmes of the community. But at present the Mahila Mandals or Samitis have attained maturity in this regard. Micro-credit system is very popular among the female members of the ‘Samitis’. But all the Mahila Samitis have taken the decision that micro-credit facility cannot be used for giving dowry during the marriage of daughters of members. Thus the community level village credit system is in progress.

506 Swaraj and the Reluctant State the Gandhian principle of Gram-Swaraj as practised by the Mahila Mandal’s of G.V.P. has generated surplus revenue at the community level through community assets creation, savings and grain banking. Grain banking i.e. Dhagrmagola has been undertaken by G.V.Ps. in the covered villages with a view to ensur socio-economic development of poor rural women. The immediate aim of the scheme is to provide the rural women with food-security during the periods of their financial crisis. A huge portion of the population in Bankura is in abject poverty. Initially, the people had no other option than approaching the village money lenders in times of need. But now as a result of the scheme of small savings and food security, money lenders’ domination has come to an end. Women have now very successfully emerged as an important force in monitoring local development projects and have been increasingly taking part in decision making in family and in community management. The rule by the villagers themselves is in operation and herein lies the success of the Gram-Swaraj experiment. The following table is an index: Tables Serial Name of No. the Samiti 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Total Small Samitis

Fixed Deposit

Total Capital

Income of the Beneficiary Person

9657.00 5342.00 4263.00 6503.00 9702.00 4536.00 8207.00

1500.00 3000.00 – – – – –

11,157.00 8,342.00 4,263.00 6,503.00 9,702.00 4,536.00 8,207.00

400.00 400.00 300.00 400.00 350.00 200.00 600.00

Kankradihi Patalkhuri Bhikurdihi Barbedya Dinagram Khasbakar Bhakatpara

Source: Gandhi Vichar Parishad

Literacy Movement When the women’s development cell of G.V.P. started working with the rural women on the agenda of Gram-Swaraj, it was noticed that 90% of the women were illiterates, but under the pressure of their leading role in community management and income generation activities women members of the ‘Samitis’ have understood the importance of literacy, Mahila Samitis in collaboration with G.V.P. have arranged all necessary teaching aids and the educate members and the volunteers of a G.V.P. have come forward to literate the members of the ‘Samitis’. Now at present all the members have come under the literacy drive programme. The following table shows the position of literacy of the Mahila Samitis:

Recent Challenges to Gender Inequality and Gram-Swaraj... 507 Table 6 Name of Samitis

Total members at the Beginning in 1998

Kankradihi Bhikurdihi Jathia Patalkhuri Nandigram Khasbahar Hajadgaria Barbedya Bhakatpara Bakultala Malpara Kankata Dompara (Lokepur) Christiandanga Dinargram

35 47 35 45 80 26 21 27 42 40 43 25 50 35 26

Total Literates in 1998

Number of Literates after One Year

6 8 3 4 15 2 4 1 23 19 17 12 23 16 3

35 43 34 41 72 19 17 23 42 38 35 23 46 35 21

Source: Gandhi Vichar Parishad

From the table it is evident that from the very beginning, literacy has been given top priority. The members of the ‘Mahila Samitis’ are composing songs reflecting their design for schooling. Since it is their own culture and group they are very spontaneous in expressing their feelings through popular songs. Such a song is: Oh, mother, I shall be admitted to Gandhi school Don’t neglect me as I am a daughter You see how fine I am looking With school shoes and school uniform With pencil and pen and With a bag on my back I shall go to school, Don’t neglect me because I am a daughter.15 This song is challenging the gender inequality on the one hand and on the other hand it is expressing the responses of the women-folk to sustainable development as envisaged by Gram-Swaraj. Awareness About Environment As a result of the impact of Gram-Swaraj movement, awareness about environment has been an important agenda item of small and big ‘Matribaithaks’ of the Mahila Samitis. The members, in their organisational capacity enquire into the cases of environmental pollution

508 Swaraj and the Reluctant State and come forward to solve them. Every member engages herself in cleaning the village surroundings twice in a month. They are now practising all recommended measures of keeping drinking water safe and clean. The Mahila Samitis have given great importance to massive plantation. As a result 2,28,14,000 plants have been planted so far by the members and the possibility of soil erosion has been reduced. A total of 1,622 acres of degraded land have been treated with soil and moisture conservation technique in the covered villages under G.V.P. Besides restoration of current fallow lands to increase the area of agriculture, non-cultivable arid lands have mostly been covered with fruit, fuel, fodder and timber trees. Accroding to G.V.P. and an important sector of rural employment is folk medicine. Women’s development cell of G.V.P. is constantly propagating herbal medicines since the beginning through its various writings and campaigns. L.S.S. O’Malley also in his Gazetteer observed that Bankura is a rich source of herbal medicine. G.V.P. strongly believes that the rights over forest should be given back to the tribes through social afforestation which can foster the production of herbs. This culture of folk medicine provide strong resistance to the institutional medicine economy controlled by the capital market. So herbs production can open up a new horizon for women’s employment. By the influence of this approach, the members of ‘Mahila Samitis’ and also other rural women are producing herbs in their homeside fields and these herbs are Basak, Tulsi, Thankuni, Shiuli, Kalmegh, Arahar, Pudina etc. Thus an eco-freindly approach has been adopted in the villages covered under the Gram-Swaraj movement of G.V.P. Conclusion Thus as a result of Gram-Swaraj experiments in the covered villages a new era is knocking at the doors of the villages for their awakening. Gram-Swaraj movement has been specially very useful for the womenfolk of the district. Their condition has changed a lot in recent years. Various income generation activities, small savings, SHG movement etc. have brought them to a decisive role from a marginal one in the past in their family and in the community. Real empowerment is that which emerges from within the ability of the individual. By ensuring this capacity building, G.V.P. has brought the basic slogan of ‘Gram-Swaraj’ into real practice and that is ‘awakening of the self’. By emphasising. the importance of female literacy, environmental awareness, preventing liquor consumption, women’s awakening, Gandhi Vichar Parishad has totally changed the conventional index of women’s development and empowerment. It is now universally recognised that once the level of consciousness is increased other parameters of sustainable development are bound to come into

Recent Challenges to Gender Inequality and Gram-Swaraj... 509 operation. The cultural movement along with the social and economic movements started against gender inequality has also paved the way to sustainable development of women. Against this backdrop of, so many social, economic, cultural and gender biased symptoms present in society, Gram-Swaraj can be a guiding principle to overcome them. Gandhi Vichar Parishad has come forward to translate the Gram-Swaraj experiments into real practice in the lives of millions of women. So far as the district of Bankura is concerned a process of transformation has just started. But still there is a long way to go. Accroding to Gandhi Vichar Parishad the main task is to approach the ideal of Gram-Swaraj as best as we can. With this view Gandhi Vichar Parishad has taken up so many programmes that are directed towards the eradication of gender inequality on the one hand and on the other to the acceleration of sustainable development of women in the district of Bankura. NOTES 1. I would like to render my respects here to Late Sisir Sanyal, Secretary, Gandhi Vichar Parishad, Bankura. I thank him for his encouragement and cooperation in conducting this study. 2. I would also like to thank Kalyan Roy, Project Officer, SAHAY, and Jadabi Sahana, Project Assistant, SAHAY, G.V.P. 3. I would like to acknowledge the cooperation of Lakshmi Malia, Gita Bauri, Tulsi Ruidas, Rita Malla, Sima Das and others in the collection of materials during survey, fieldwork and interviews.

REFERENCES 1. Women in Indian Society—Edited by Rehana Ghadially, Sage, New Delhi, 1988, p. 14. 2. Women and Globalisation (in Bengali)—Edited by S. Gupta, M. Bhattacharya, I. Mukherjee, N.B.A, Kolkata, 2004, p. 78. 3. Sociology of Gender—Edited by Sharmila Rege, Sage, New Delhi, 2003, pp. 344, 357. 4. Gram-Swaraj–An Experiment, Gandhi Vichar Parishad, Bankura, 1991 5. ‘Politics of governance and problem of gender discrimination in India’— Dr Sujit Kumar Chattopadhyay in Journal of Political Science, Department of Political Science, B.Z.S.M.M., Bankura 2009. 6. Power and Society: A Framework for Political Enquiry, Yale University Press, New Haven, 1950. 7. E.P.W., June 30, Mumbai, 2007. See article of John Harris. 8. Theory and Practice in Social Reserch—Hans Raj, Surjeet Publications, Delhi, 1988, p. 16. 9. Bankura Janer Itihas Sanskriti (in Bengali)—Rathindra Mohan Chawdhury, Best Books, Kolkata, 2000. 10. Annual Report 2003-2004, Bikash, Bankura. 11. Gram-Swaraj—An Experiment, Gandhi Vichar Parishad, Bankura, 1991.

510 Swaraj and the Reluctant State 12. Globilisation of Resistance (translated in Bengali)—Edited by Samir Amin and Francois Houtart, N.B.A., Kolkata 2004, p. 212. 13. These songs are collected from Tulshi Ruidas and Rita Malia of Rajagram Mahila Samity, Bankura. 14. This song is collected from Jadabi Sahana, women’s leader of G.V.P. 15. A Stride Towards Gram-Swaraj—An Experiment, Gandhi Vichar Parishad, Bankura, 1991.

List of Contributors Abdulrazak Karriem, Institute for Social Development, University of the Western Cape, Cape Town, South Africa. Achyut Das, Social Activist associated with AGRAGAMEE, Kashipur, Rayagada, Odisha. Ajay Gudavarthy, Central for Political Studies, School of Social Sciences, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. Ashley van Niekerk, Deputy Unit Director, South African Medical Research Council, University of South Africa’s Violence, Injury and Peach Reasarch Unit, Johannesburg. Atmaram Saraogi, Former corporate CEO; a founder trustee of Navadashanam, Bangalore; a founder trustee and honorary director, International Centre Calcutta; Trustee & National Executive Member, Sarva Seva Sangh, Sevagram, Wardha, Maharashtra and trustee, Gandhi Smarak Nidhi (Gandhi National Memorial Fund, Central), New Delhi. B.N. Prasad, Associate Professor, Giri Institute of Development Studies, Lucknow (U.P.). Basanta Kumar Mallik, Professor of History and Director, Centre for Ambedkar Studies, Utkal University, Vani Vihar, Bhubaneswar. Bidyut Mohanty, Head, Women’s Studies Unit, Institute of Social Sciences, New Delhi. Coonoor Kripalani, Honorary Research Fellow, Centre of Asian Studies, Hong Kong Institute for the Humanities and Social Sciences, University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong. D. Jeevan Kumar, Professor of Political Science and Director, Centre for Gandhian Studies, Bangalore University, Bangalore. Dhananjay Rai, Assistant Professor, Central University of Gujarat, Gandhinagar. K.B. Saxena, Professor, Social Justice and Governance, Council for Social Development, New Delhi.

512 Swaraj and the Reluctant State Kate Nash, Professor, Department of Sociology, Goldsmiths, London. Kim Chanwahn, Assistant Professor, Graduate School of International and Area Studies, HUFS, Korea. Kopano Ratele, Institute for Social and Health Science, University of South Africa and Crime, Violence and Injury Lead Programme, Medical Research Council, South Africa. Maithreyi Krishnaraj, Former Professor and Director, Research Centre for Women’s Studies, SNDT Women’s University, Mumbai. Masood Ahmed, Social Economist and Assistant Professor, Jazan University, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Mohamed Seedat, Institute for Social and Health Sciences, MRC-UNISA Crime, Violence and Injury Lead Programme, University of South Africa. Monica Bruckmann, Researcher at UNESCO, United Nations University Chair and Network on Global Economy and Sustainable Development, REGGEN. P.S. Krishnan, Former Secretary, Government of India and former Member Secretary, National Commission for Backward Classes. Rajakishor Mahana, Teaching in the Department of Anthropology, Kalinga Institute of Social Sciences, KIIT University, Bhubaneswar. Rashid Ahmed, Department of Psychology, University of the Western Cape, Bellville, South Africa. Riaz Ahmad, Reader in Political Science at Satyawati College, University of Delhi, Delhi. Sandy Lazarus, Violence, Injury and Peace Research Unit, SA Medical Research Council and University of South Africa. Shahnaaz Suffla, MRC-UNISA Safety and Peace Promotion Research Unit, UNISA Institute for Social and Health Science, South Africa. Subir Rana, CSSS, School of Social Sciences, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. Sujit Kumar Chattopadhyay, Reader, Department of Political Science, Bankura Zilla Saradamani Mahila Mahavidyapith, Bankura, West Bengal and presently Chairman, West Bengal Regional School Service Commission (Western Region), Bankura. Sumit Mukherji, Professor and Head, Department of Political Science, University of Kalyani. Umesh Bawa, Clinical Psychologist, Institute for Social Development, University of the Western Cape, Cape Town, South Africa. Vidhya Das, Social Activist engaged in working for the marginalised people in Odisha along with Achyut Das in AGRAGAMEE.