Insular Bharat fails to see writing on the wall

By Swapan Dasgupta

Living in a society, it is a brave individual who can wilfully disregard the question: "What will the neighbours say?” Nations have a greater measure of self-confidence. The drive to be defined by 'exceptionalism’ has marked the history of countries that believe in their 'manifest destiny’ and, by implication , their innate superiority. The self-conscious belief in what is pompously called 'Indian genius’ has often been the justification for purposeless plodding, but there’s no doubting its enduring appeal. The commitment to "truth, freedom and the American way” wasn’t something the creator of Superman invented: it was real and deeply felt by those who set out to create a 'New World’. And China’s recent history is replete with improvisations packaged as uniquely Chinese.

For the larger collective, what the world thinks of 'us’ is often of less consequence than what we think of 'them’. Britain was an island nation that made its mark through an Empire that rivalled that of ancient Rome. A significant part of its intellectual energies were also expended in documenting the cultures of foreign lands. Yet, till the early 1980s, as many Agatha Christie novels quaintly emphasized, 'foreign’ and 'foreign looking’ were euphemisms for the sinister. The bloody campaigns against 'foreign devils’ were part of China’s recent history. And despite being a nation of immigrants , the US, until the advent of fetishized multiculturalism in the 1960s, maintained a quirky distinction between 'American’ and 'foreign’.

India, not least because of its vulnerability to foreign invasions, always had a schizoid approach to the unfamiliar. At a social level, Hindu societies built an invisible wall around communities that facilitated the preservation of the sanatan dharma—the eternal way. At the same time, public life allowed a remarkable flexibility. The absorptive capacity of Indian civilization broke down barriers that would otherwise have delineated the indigenous from the alien. The Mughuls, for example, arrived as foreigners but over the centuries became a part of the local landscape—although the process was not without hiccups. Had the revolt of 1857 not forced a British ghettoization, it is entirely possible that the Raj would have been seen as just one more chapter in a long history of a foreign rule that lost its foreignness over time. The nationalist movement with its stress on swadeshi did certainly nurture a feeling of Indian exceptionalism. However,this was partially offset by a desire to be universalist and receptive to outside influences. This dichotomy is a feature of the Hindu way of thinking.

In hindsight, India’s rediscovery of itself after Independence was expediently xenophobic. Its middle classes have been the most receptive to international— particularly western—influences. The Hindu ability to separate community from citizenship has seen Indians become model citizens of other nations. Within India, however, public life has been shaped by the belief that India, and India alone, knows best. Selfdoubt isn’t a part of the contemporary discourse. Maybe it was the seamless shift from Gandhian swadeshi to Nehruvian self-sufficiency that prompted the downing of shutters — not flamboyantly as in Maoist China but in a more understated way. Whatever the reasons, a fierce sense of beleaguered national pride turned Indians from being self-confidently laid-back to nervously prickly. Two landmark events of recent times—the Bangladesh war of 1971 and the nuclear tests of 1998 —triggered spectacular levels of national solidarity. But they were also marked by international scepticism. The lesson that political India drew from these events is worth remembering : the future of India is shaped by India’s feelings alone.

In this respect India is not very different from a China that turns bellicose at the slightest hint of national affront. But there is a significant difference. Since socialism was, in effect, jettisoned by its Communist rulers, China has maintained a single-minded focus on the long term. India, however, is not accustomed to thinking strategically.

In the evocative phrase, "we’re like this only” is a celebration of the immediate and the short-term. In the past year, international capitalism has tempered its initial enthusiasm for India. There are concerns over India’s ability to never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity.

Yet, the concern of those who have invested in India’s future and thus deserve to be regarded as stakeholders, hasn’t been reciprocated in India. Pranab Mukherjee may travel to Washington to allay fears and Manmohan Singh may continue making the right noises. But underneath these pious assurances of doing the right thing, political India has deemed that the country will set its own economic norms that punish fiscal prudence and reward profligacy. Like the protesters in Greece who want others to foot the bill for their profligate ways, the emerging Indian consensus deems that the world owes it a living. It’s the mentality to nourish if we are content to be another Pakistan.

Sunday Times of India, July 3, 2011