By Swapan Dasgupta
Am I alone in imagining that the outrage over the
Government’s cowardly decision to delete the contentious Nehru-Ambedkar cartoon
from future NCERT textbooks has been relatively muted and overwhelmed by squeamishness?
True, many intellectuals have been vocal in the
op-ed pages of newspapers and on TV channels. But imagine if some so-called
‘right-wing’ loonies had descended on the office of a professor and ransacked
it, would the country not have seen the usual suspects furiously signing
petition after petition and hosting seminars denouncing fascist forces?
When in an act of churlish impulsiveness, Mamata
Banerjee’s Government arrested a Jadavpur University lecturer for circulating a
cartoon that lampooned the Chief Minister and the Union Railways Minister, the biddyajan—loosely translated as people
of intellectual substance—went apoplectic. Pillars of academia took to the
streets and gave media interviews to explain why they were marching: “any
normal, innocent activity may invite retribution.” By contrast, Kapil Sibal’s pusillanimity
has merely provoked sniggering despair over India’s inability to laugh at
itself.
One explanation is that intellectuals with links to
academia are loath to be too critical of the HRD Ministry, even when the issue
is inextricably linked to pedagogy. But this is being needlessly cynical about
honourable men and women truly attached to their versions of enlightenment.
My sense is that the professional petition writers
were confronted with an awkward dilemma. They had to weigh their instinctive
commitment to a liberal ethos and historical maturity against the weight of
political correctness. For a long time, enlightened voices have sought to distinguish
between reactionary and progressive assertions of identity. All grievances,
they have held, are not equal; some are more equal than others. In short, there
are no uniform standards: judgment is always dependant on the context.
The Dalit activists who flagged the cartoon
controversy were not remotely concerned by the use of a Shankar cartoon as an
imaginative relief from the drudgery of high school lessons on the
Constitution. What agitated them was the depiction of Babasaheb Ambedkar as a mortal,
a mere political player. In their agitprop-inspired imagination, Ambedkar was
an icon and had to be depicted with the reverence associated with calendar art.
Just as many crude Hindutva-types couldn’t
countenance departures from Raja Ravi Varma’s portrayal of the sacred and went
after M.F. Husain, the upholders of Dalit identity were outraged that Ambedkar
could be presented as a caricature—and that too in an officially-approved
textbook.
This mindless attachment to literalism should,
ideally, have been debunked, if only for the pursuit of enlightened education.
However, when it comes to Dalit issues, or for that matter any issue centred on
the self-expression of communities that are in need of empowerment, liberal
principles are expediently set aside. Doing otherwise would invite charges of
hegemonic conduct—and that’s just not on in a world infected by political
correctness.
Last month, for example, a clutch of Dalit activists
in Hyderabad’s Osmania University organised a beef festival on the campus. It
was an act of provocation and defied every rule governing “common decencies”—philosopher
Roger Scruton’s telling description of an unwritten social consensus. Yet, this
grandstanding, which could so easily have triggered a major disturbance, was
stoutly defended by many academics as a protest against “food fascism”.
The point to note is that in the over-enthusiastic
bid to nurture Dalit empowerment and atone for centuries of instutionalised
discrimination, the normal rules governing civic and political life have often
been set aside. Yet, far from persuading disadvantaged communities that the
political order is receptive to their material well-being and political
empowerment, the double standards have often served to encourage a fringe.
These social entrepreneurs have grasped the possibilities of high returns from
unreasonableness. The international seminar circuit is saturated with
‘oppressed voices’ that have turned guilt tripping into a fine art. They have
learnt valuable lessons from the West’s only growth industry—multiculturalism.
Sunday Times of India, May 20, 2012
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