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Demonising Muslims

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American Christians have deep-rooted views of Islam as a violent, demonic religion

by Thomas Kidd

The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 spawned a spate of conservative Christian reflections on the essential characteristics of Islam. Figures from Christian Broadcasting Network’s Pat Robertson to Colorado Springs pastor Ted Haggard pointed to the inherently violent nature of Islam. Liberty University’s Jerry Falwell said on 60 Minutes that "Muhammad was a terrorist", a glib comment that set off riots among Asian Muslims and earned him a fatwa from an Iranian cleric calling for Falwell’s assassination. As recently as 2006, even Pope Benedict XVI generated a major controversy by making disparaging comments about Islam’s violent history. One might think that these Christians’ views simply represent angry reactions to the horrific violence of 9/11 and ongoing jihadist terror. But a closer look reveals that American Christians have deep-rooted views of Islam as a violent, demonic religion.

Pastor Aaron Burr Sr (the president of the College of New Jersey at Princeton and the father of the politician Aaron Burr who killed Alexander Hamilton in a duel) expressed widespread Anglo-American Protestant sentiment in a 1756 sermon in which he discussed "the false prophet and grand impostor Mahomet". According to Burr, the early medieval period represented a dark night for the Christian church for two primary reasons: the rise of the Catholic papacy and the spread of Islam. Muhammad brought Arabia under his control by violence, as he taught his followers that Islam should be "propagated by the sword and that it is meritorious to die for it". Misery, woe and ignorance followed in Muhammad’s wake and compounded the sufferings of god’s true church in the world.
 

Burr, like most prominent Anglo-American theologians of that time, believed that the advent of Islam had been predicted in the Bible, particularly in the Book of Revelations. Most conservative American Christians now think that the prophecies of Revelation point to future events but early Americans saw many of the prophecies as already fulfilled in history. Burr shared the common opinion that Revelation 9:2-3, which speaks of locusts coming out of a smoky abyss, was fulfilled with the coming of Muhammad. Like most colonial observers, Burr saw Muhammad as the worst kind of religious "impostor", who pretended to have received revelations from god in order to gain power.
 
With the Holy Book Koran
Obeisance with the Holy Koran
 

Since the colonial era, conservative American Christians have maintained a conflicted attitude towards Muslims. They have portrayed Islam as having malevolent origins but they have also kept faith that Muslims would eventually convert to Christianity. Despite the overwhelming difficulties of Muslim evangelisation, anecdotal accounts of Muslims becoming Christians were steady-sellers in colonial and antebellum America. Probably the most famous Muslim conversion narrative in the 19th century was the account of Abdallah and Sabat, told in a sermon by British pastor Claudius Buchanan. This compelling, tragic tale of the Arabian friends’ journey to faith in Christ was printed in various forms throughout Britain and America from the early 19th to the early 20th century.

Conservative Christians have hardly lost their taste for Muslim conversion stories, as demonstrated by books like Bilquis Sheikh’s I Dared to Call Him Father (1978). In this autobiography, Sheikh, a Pakistani noblewoman, recounted her conversion to Christianity following a series of dreams and visions about Jesus. The book defined the ideal Muslim conversion for a generation of Christians. It has been translated into many different languages, including Arabic, Chinese, Finnish and Amharic (a Semitic language spoken in Ethiopia), and it remains in print today.

Despite their hopes for Muslim conversions, American Christians have also anticipated that Islam would meet its demise in the end times when Jesus would return to earth and establish his kingdom. In early America, many Protestants believed that Islam and Roman Catholicism would be destroyed simultaneously. Some even saw the two as the eastern and western Antichrists. The expectation of Roman Catholicism and Islam’s downfall and the imminent return of Christ led to bold date setting in the early 19th century, capped by the forecasts of William Miller and his followers who expected the end to come in 1843.

Jesus’s failure to appear at the appointed hour helped to transform standard Anglo-American interpretations of Bible prophecy and by the early 20th century "dispensational" theology had become dominant in conservative circles. Dispensationalists began to anticipate the re-establishment of the state of Israel where the final battle between good and evil would transpire. The founding of Israel in 1948 and the subsequent struggle between Israel, the Palestinians and the Arab states has become the frame for many conservative Christians’ interpretation of prophetic scenarios.

There remains a common expectation among American Christians of Islam’s coming downfall. Many now interpret the mysterious description of the attack by "Gog and Magog" against Israel in Ezekiel 38 and 39 as forecasting a time when Arab Muslims would unite with Russians to destroy Israel. Their attack would be miraculously foiled in a hail of fire and brimstone and this event would set the stage for the rise of an atheistic Antichrist who would launch a genocidal campaign against the Jews. This would lead to the final battle of Armageddon and the return of Christ to earth.

The attacks of September 11, 2001 inaugurated a sharply heightened interest in Islam among American Christians and in time we may also see that it generated lasting departures in prophetic interpretation, as some conservatives have begun to put Islam squarely at the centre of end times theolog

The attacks of September 11, 2001 inaugurated a sharply heightened interest in Islam among American Christians and in time we may also see that it generated lasting departures in prophetic interpretation, as some conservatives have begun to put Islam squarely at the centre of end times theology. Some have even begun to argue that the messianic Mahdi expected in some Muslims’ beliefs actually represents the Antichrist.

Despite some post-9/11 novelties, the history of conservative American Christian thought regarding Islam is largely a story of continuity, not change. Although they have often seen Islam as an inherently violent, malevolent religion, traditional Christians have also maintained persistent hopes of mass Muslim conversions to Christianity. Those who did not convert would ultimately fall before a returning Christ in the last days. Although the details may have changed over time, their convictions about the end of days have helped assure many American Christians that their god, the father of Jesus, would triumph in the end.

(Thomas Kidd is associate professor of history at Baylor University and senior fellow at Baylor’s Institute for Studies of Religion. His latest book is Patrick Henry: First Among Patriots, Basic Books, 2011. This article was published on History News Network on March 15, 2009.)

Courtesy: History News Network; http://hnn.us

Killing for Peace

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The violent fanaticism on display in Pakistan is too close for comfort

Javed Anand

There’s nothing a practising Muslim ever does without the invocation: “Bismillah ar-rahman ar-rahim (In the name of Allah, the most compassionate, the most merciful)”. About Prophet Muhammad he will tell you that Allah sent him to earth as “rahmat al il alamin (mercy unto mankind)”. The very word Islam means peace, you will be told. Allah, Prophet Muhammad, Islam, is all about peace, compassion, mercy. Get it?

No doubt Mumtaz Qadri, the assassin of Punjab governor Salmaan Taseer, believes himself to be a pious Muslim. No doubt bismillah ar-rahman ar-rahim preceded the bullets he pumped into a person he was trained, paid and sworn to protect, risking his life if need be. No doubt he committed cold-blooded murder in the name of “Allah, the most compassionate, the most merciful” in defence of a religion that means peace and in honour of the prophet (hurmat-e-rasool) who is meant to be mercy unto all mankind. Killing for peace? I just don’t get it.

Killing for peace? I just don’t get it.

Could it be that despite his self-perception, Qadri was actually under Satan’s evil influence? Banish the thought. For the “respected ulema” of Pakistan the man is a ghazi (holy warrior) now. (In Islam, a ghazi enjoys as high a status as a shaheed, or martyr.) If we happen to think otherwise, we too are blasphemers, kafirs, ‘wajib-ul-qatl (fit to be killed)’.

Killing may not be your or my idea of promoting peace but according to the “respected ulema” of Pakistan, you better believe it, that’s Islam. Read the joint statement issued by 500 “maulanas” from the Jamaat-e-Ahl-e-Sunnat Pakistan (JASP) which also issued a death threat to anyone who dared lead or even participate in the namaaz-e-janaza (funeral prayer) for Taseer: “The punishment for blasphemy against the prophet is only death as per the holy book [Koran], Sunnah [sayings and deeds of Prophet Muhammad], consensus of Muslim opinion and explanations by the ulema… this brave person [Qadri] has maintained the 1,400 years of Muslim tradition and has held the heads of 1.5 billion Muslims of the world high with pride.” No, you messiahs of murder, count me out.

Ironically, this very Barelvi sect from among the subcontinent’s Muslims had thus far been seen as Pakistan’s great big hope for peace, a counterforce waiting to be deployed against the Deobandis, the Jamaat-e-Islami and the Ahl-e-Hadith, all of whom are guilty of injecting intolerance, extremism and terrorism into Islam. But a single murderous deed done by a “ghazi” has brought together Pakistan’s mutually warring “ulema” on a common platform. Whatever their other disagreements, they stand together in their worship of violence and contempt of the dissenting voice.

The credit for this unprecedented unholy alliance goes to the Jamaat-ud Dawah (JuD), another name for the terrorist outfit Lashkar-e-Tayyaba (LeT) which among numerous other heinous acts is responsible for the 26/11 terror attack on Mumbai and India. As evident from its very well attended rally in Lahore (on January 16 and 17) under the banner of the Tehreek-e-Hurmat-e-Rasool (Movement for the Honour of the Prophet), the JuD, the Deobandis and the Barelvis jointly pronounced a death sentence on anyone calling for change in Pakistan’s infamous blasphemy laws.

Such madness in our immediate neighbourhood is in itself sufficient cause for concern. More worrisome is the fact that the roots and trunks of Pakistan’s major religious outfits lie in India. Deobandis and Barelvis owe their name to Deoband and Bareilly, both of which are towns in Uttar Pradesh. The Ahl-e-Hadith was birthed on Indian soil; so did Maududi found his Jamaat-e-Islami in undivided India. And each one of them today has far greater reach within the country than they had at the time of partition.

Why is it that since the unpardonable murder of Taseer, not one Indian leader of consequence from any of these outfits has spoken a word against the outrage? My Urdu-speaking Muslim friends from Mumbai tell me this is equally true of Urdu newspapers with the honourable exception of The Sahafat Daily. This conspiracy of silence, though shocking, is not surprising. Each one of them preaches that the punishment for blasphemy, apostasy, heresy, is death in an Islamic state and complete social ostracism from the entire community where Islam is not wedded to power.

Fed such poisonous brew, the ummah may be forgiven for missing out on finer details. In secular India some years ago, the Raza Academy (a supposedly more tolerant Barelvi group) threatened to burn Taslima Nasreen alive if she dared come to Mumbai. In 2008 the Urdu press in Hyderabad poured scorn on the leaders and activists of the Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (MIM) for their failure to kill her when they had the chance to do so.

“Educated Muslims have no choice but to get out of the clutches of the ulema,” opined a Muslim woman on a Google group last week. “If this is Islam, count me out,” wrote a Muslim male.

How do Muslims respond to the growing Islamophobia across the globe when the entire galaxy of “ulema” proclaims murder from the housetops? “Educated Muslims have no choice but to get out of the clutches of the ulema,” opined a Muslim woman on a Google group last week. “If this is Islam, count me out,” wrote a Muslim male.

So here’s the choice before educated Muslims. Opting out of Islam altogether or discovering that an Islam other than that of the “ulema” is possible. But to discover this other Islam, you need the sensibilities of a Farid Esack, a South African Islamic theologian whose moral and ethical integrity is evident from his statement: “If a choice has to be made between violence towards the text [holy scripture] and textual legitimisation of violence against real people then I would be comfortable to plead guilty to charges of violence against the text… Isn’t theology essentially about god? Yes, it is about god but my theology is about a god that is essentially just and compassionate.”

The time has come for a fatwa against the fanatics.

Here is the Link to the original sabrang website where the story can also be read
 

Hitler, the Indian Emergency, A Strong Government must respect Rule of Law: Raghuram Rajan

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'Hitler provided Germany with extremely effective administration – the trains ran on time, as did the trains during our own Emergency in 1975-77'

Full text of the speech by Dr. Raghuram Rajan, Governor, Reserve Bank of India, at the D.D. Kosambi Ideas Festival held on February 20, 2015 in Goa
 

Thank you for inviting me to this Festival of Ideas. Since this festival is about ideas, I am not going to tax you with the Reserve Bank’s views on monetary policy, which are, by now, well known. Instead, I want to talk about something I have been studying for many years, the development of a liberal market democracy. In doing this, I will wear my hat as a professor in the field known as political economy, and discard my RBI hat for the time being. If you came here expecting more insights on the path of interest rates, as I expect many of you did, let me apologize for disappointing you.

My starting point is the truism that people want to live in a safe prosperous country where they enjoy freedom of thought and action, and where they can exercise their democratic rights to choose their government. But how do countries ensure political freedom and economic prosperity? Why do the two seem to go together? And what more, if anything, does India have to do to ensure it has these necessary underpinnings for prosperity and continued political freedom? These are enormously important questions, but given their nature, they will not be settled in one speech. Think of my talk today, therefore, as a contribution to the debate.

Fukuyama’s three pillars of a liberal democratic state

In his magisterial two-volume analysis of the emergence of political systems around the world, political scientist Francis Fukuyama builds on the work of his mentor, Samuel Huntington, to argue that liberal democracies, which seem to be best at fostering political freedoms and economic success, tend to have three important pillars: a strong government, rule of law, and democratic accountability.

I propose in this talk to start by summarizing my (necessarily imprecise) reading of Fukuyama’s ideas to you. I would urge you to read the books to get their full richness. I will then go on to argue that he leaves out a fourth pillar, free markets, which are essential to make the liberal democracy prosperous. I will warn that these pillars are weakening in industrial countries because of rising inequality of opportunity, and end with lessons for India.

Consider Fukuyama’s three pillars in greater detail. Strong government does not mean one that is only militarily powerful or uses its intelligence apparatus to sniff out enemies of the state. Instead, a strong government is also one that provides an effective and fair administration through clean, motivated, and competent administrators who can deliver good governance.

Rule of law means that government’s actions are constrained by what we Indians would term dharma – by a historical and widely understood code of moral and righteous behaviour, enforced by religious, cultural, or judicial authority.

And democratic accountability means that government has to be popularly accepted, with the people having the right to throw unpopular, corrupt, or incompetent rulers out.

Fukuyama makes a more insightful point than simply that all three traditional aspects of the state – executive, judiciary, and legislature – are needed to balance one another. In sharp contrast to the radical libertarian view that the best government is the minimal “night watchman”, which primarily protects life and property rights while enforcing contracts, or the radical Marxist view that the need for the government disappears as class conflict ends, Fukuyama, as did Huntington, emphasizes the importance of a strong government in even a developed country.

No matter how thuggish or arbitrary the government in a tin-pot dictatorship, these are weak governments, not strong ones. Their military or police can terrorize the unarmed citizenry but cannot provide decent law and order or stand up to a determined armed opposition. Their administration cannot provide sensible economic policy, good schools or clean drinking water. Strong governments need to be peopled by those who can provide needed public goods – it requires expertise, motivation, and integrity. Realizing the importance of strong government, developing countries constantly request multilateral institutions for help in enhancing their governance capacity.

Strong governments may not, however, move in the right direction. Hitler provided Germany with extremely effective administration – the trains ran on time, as did the trains during our own Emergency in 1975-77. His was a strong government, but Hitler took Germany efficiently and determinedly on a path to ruin, overriding the rule of law and dispensing with elections. It is not sufficient that the trains run on time, they have to go in the right direction at the desired time. The physical rail network guiding the trains could be thought of as analogous to rule of law, while the process by which consensus is built around the train schedule could be thought of as democratic accountability.

But why do we need both rule of law and democratic accountability to keep strong government on the right path? Would democratic accountability not be enough to constrain a dictatorial government? Perhaps not! Hitler was elected to power, and until Germany started suffering shortages and reversals in World War II, enjoyed the support of the majority of the people. The rule of law is needed to prevent the tyranny of the majority that can arise in a democracy, as well as to ensure that basic “rules of the game” are preserved over time so that the environment is predictable, no matter which government comes to power. By ensuring that all citizens have inalienable rights and protections, the rule of law constrains the majority’s behaviour towards the minorities. And by maintaining a predictable economic environment against populist democratic instincts, the rule of law ensures that businesses can invest securely today for the future.

What about asking the question the other way? Would rule of law not be enough? Probably not, especially in a vibrant developing society! Rule of law provides a basic slow-changing code of conduct that cannot be violated by either government or the citizenry. But that, by itself, may not be sufficient to accommodate the aspirations of new emerging groups or the consequences of new technologies or ideas. Democratic accountability ensures the government responds to the wishes of the mass of the citizenry, allowing emerging groups to gain influence through political negotiation and competition with others. Even if groups cannot see their programs translated into policy, democracy allows them to blow off steam non-violently. So both rule of law and democratic accountability check and balance strong government in complementary ways.

Where do these three pillars come from?

Much of Fukuyama’s work is focused on tracing the development of each pillar in different societies. He suggests that what the nature of states we see today is largely explained by history. For instance, China had long periods of chaos, most recently before the Communists came to power; groups engaged in total war against one another. Such unbridled military competition meant groups had to organize themselves as hierarchical military units, with rulers having unlimited powers. When eventually a group was victorious over the others, it was natural for it to impose centralized autocratic rule to ensure that chaos did not remerge. To rule over the large geographic area of the country, China needed a well-developed elite bureaucracy – hence the mandarins, chosen by exam based on their learning. So China had strong unconstrained effective government whenever it was united, and Fukuyama argues, unlike Western Europe or India, did not have strong alternative sources of power founded in religion or culture to impose rule of law.

In Western Europe, by contrast, the Christian church imposed constraints on what the ruler could do. So military competition, coupled with constraints on the ruler imposed by canon law, led to the emergence of both strong government and rule of law.

In India, he argues, the caste system led to division of labour, which ensured that entire populations could never be devoted totally to the war effort. So through much of history, war was never as harsh, or military competition between states as fierce, as in China. As a result, the historical pressure for Indian states to develop strong governments that intruded into every facet of society was muted. At the same time, however, the codes of just behaviour for rulers emanating from ancient Indian scriptures served to constrain any arbitrary exercise of power by Indian rulers. India, therefore, had weaker government, constrained further by rule of law. And, according to Fukuyama, these differing histories explain why government in China today is seen as effective but unrestrained, while government capacity in India is seen as weak, but Indian governments are rarely autocratic.

Any of these grand generalizations can, and should, be debated. Fukuyama does not claim history is destiny, but does suggest a very strong influence. Of course, the long influence of history and culture is less perceptible when it comes to democracy where some countries like India have taken to it like a duck to water. A vibrant accountable democracy does not only imply that people cast their vote freely every five years. It requires the full mix of a raucous investigative press, public debate uninhibited by political correctness, many political parties representing varied constituencies, and a variety of non-governmental organizations organizing and representing interests. It will continue to be a source of academic debate why a country like India has taken to democracy, while some of its neighbours with similar historical and cultural pasts have not.

I will not dwell on this. Instead, I turn to a different question that Fukuyama does not address. Clearly, strong governments are needed for countries to have the governance to prosper. Equally, free markets underpin prosperity. But why is it that every rich country is also a liberal democracy subject to rule of law?

I will make two points in what follows: First, free enterprise and the political freedom emanating from democratic accountability and rule of law can be mutually reinforcing so a free enterprise system should be thought of as the fourth pillar underpinning liberal market democracies. Second, the bedrock on which all four pillars stand is a broadly equitable distribution of economic capabilities among the citizenry. That bedrock is fissuring in industrial countries, while it has to be strengthened in emerging markets like India.

Free Enterprise and Political Freedom

Why are political freedoms in a country, of which representative democracy is a central component, and free enterprise mutually supportive?

There is, of course, one key similarity: Both a vibrant democracy and a vibrant free enterprise system seek to create a level playing field which enhances competition. In the democratic arena, the political entrepreneur competes with other politicians for the citizen’s vote, based on his past record and future policy agenda. In the economic sphere, the promoter competes with other entrepreneurs for the consumer’s rupee, based on the quality of the product he sells.

But there is also at least one key difference. Democracy treats individuals equally, with every adult getting one vote. The free enterprise system, by contrast, empowers consumers based on how much income they get and property they own. What then prevents the median voter in a democracy from voting to dispossess the rich and successful? And why do the latter not erode the political rights of the ordinary voter. This fundamental tension between democracy and free enterprise appeared to be accentuated in the recent U.S. Presidential elections as President Barack Obama appealed to middle-class anger about its stagnant economic prospects, while former Massachusetts governor Mitt Romney appealed to business people, disgruntled about higher taxes and expanding healthcare subsidies.

One reason that the median voter rationally agrees to protect the property of the rich and to tax them moderately may be that she sees the rich as more efficient managers of that property, and therefore as creators of jobs and prosperity that everyone will benefit from. So, to the extent that the rich are self-made, and have come out winners in a competitive, fair, and transparent market, society may be better off allowing them to own and manage their wealth, settling in return for a reasonable share of their produce as taxes. The more, however, that the rich are seen as idle or crooked – as having simply inherited or, worse, gained their wealth nefariously – the more the median voter should be willing to vote for tough regulations and punitive taxes on them.
In some emerging markets today, for example, property rights of the rich do not enjoy widespread popular support because so many of a country’s fabulously wealthy oligarchs are seen as having acquired their wealth through dubious means. They grew rich because they managed the system, not because they managed their businesses well. When the government goes after rich tycoons, few voices are raised in protest. And, as the rich kowtow to the authorities to protect their wealth, a strong check on official arbitrariness disappears. Government is free to become more autocratic.

Consider, in contrast, a competitive free-enterprise system with a level playing field for all. Such a system generally tends to permit the most efficient to acquire wealth. The fairness of the competition improves perceptions of legitimacy. Moreover, under conditions of fair competition, the process of creative destruction tends to pull down badly managed inherited wealth, replacing it with new and dynamic wealth. Great inequality, built up over generations, does not become a source of great popular resentment.
On the contrary, everyone can dream that they, too, will become a Bill Gates or a Nandan Nilekani. When such universal aspirations seem plausible, the system gains added democratic support. The rich, confidant of popular legitimacy, can then use the independence that accompanies wealth to limit arbitrary government, support rule of law, and protect democratic rights. Free enterprise and democracy sustain each other.

There are, therefore, deeper reasons for why democratic systems support property rights and free enterprise than the cynical argument that votes and legislators can be bought, and the capitalists have the money. The cynics can only be right for a while. Without popular support, wealth is protected only by increasingly coercive measures. Ultimately, such a system loses any vestige of either democracy or free enterprise.

The Bedrock: Equitable Distribution of Economic Capabilities

There is, however, a growing concern across the industrial world. The free enterprise system works well when participants enter the competitive arena with fundamentally equal chances of success. Given the subsequent level playing field, the winner’s road to riches depends on greater effort, innovation, and occasionally luck. But success is not pre-determined because no class of participants has had a fundamentally different and superior preparation for the competition. If, however, some group’s economic capabilities are sufficiently differentiated by preparation, the level playing field is no longer sufficient to equalize a priori chances of success. Instead, the free enterprise system will be seen as disproportionately favouring the better prepared. Democracy is unlikely to support it, nor are the rich and successful as likely to support democracy.

Such a scenario is no longer unthinkable in a number of Western democracies. Prosperity seems increasingly unreachable for many, because a good education, which seems to be today’s passport to riches, is unaffordable for many in the middle class. Quality higher educational institutions are dominated by the children of the rich, not because they have unfairly bought their way in, but because they simply have been taught and supported better by expensive schools and private tutors. Because middle class parents do not have the ability to give their children similar capabilities, they do not see the system as fair. Support for the free enterprise system is eroding, as witnessed by the popularity of books like Thomas Pikkety’s Capital in the 21st Century while the influence of illiberal parties on both the Left and Right who promise to suppress competition, finance, and trade is increasing. The mutual support between free enterprise and democracy is giving way to antagonism.

Moreover, as class differences create differentiated capabilities among the public, governments can either continue choosing the most capable applicants for positions but risk becoming unrepresentative of the classes, or they can choose representativeness over ability, and risk eroding effectiveness. Neither biased nor ineffective government can administer well. So government capacity may also be threatened.

Thus, as the bedrock of equitable distribution of capabilities has started developing cracks in industrial countries, all four pillars supporting the liberal free market democracy have also started swaying. This is, to my mind, an enormously important concern that will occupy states across the world in the years to come.

Lessons for India

Let me conclude with lessons for India. India inherited a kind of democracy during British rule and has made it thoroughly and vibrantly her own. Of the three pillars that Fukuyama emphasizes, the strongest in India is therefore democratic accountability. India also adheres broadly to the rule of law. Where arguably we may have a long way to go, as Fukuyama has emphasized, is in the capacity of the government (and by this I mean regulators like the RBI also) to deliver governance and public services.
This is not to say that we do not have areas of excellence strewn throughout central and state governments – whether it is the building of the New Delhi Metro, the reach of the public distribution system in Tamil Nadu, or the speed of the roll-out of the Pradhan Mantri Jan Dhan Yojana – but that such capabilities have to permeate every tehsil in every state. Moreover, in many areas of government and regulation, as the economy develops, we need more specialists, with the domain knowledge and experience. For instance, well-trained economists are at a premium throughout the government, and there are far too few Indian Economic Service officers to go around.

An important difference from the historical experience of other countries is that elsewhere typically strong government has emerged there first, and it is then restrained by rule of law and democratic accountability. In India, we have the opposite situation today, with strong institutions like the judiciary, opposition parties, the free press, and NGOs, whose aim is to check government excess. However, necessary government function is sometimes hard to distinguish from excess. We will have to strengthen government (and regulatory) capability resisting the temptation to implant layers and layers of checks and balances even before capacity has taken root. We must choose a happy medium between giving the administration unchecked power and creating complete paralysis, recognizing that our task is different from the one that confronted the West when it developed, or even the task faced by other Asian economies.

For instance, a business approval process that mandates numerous government surveys in remote areas should also consider our administrative capacity to do those surveys well and on time. If it does not provide for that capacity, it ensures there will be no movement forward. Similarly, if we create a multiple appellate process against government or regulatory action that is slow and undiscriminating, we contain government excess but also risk halting necessary government actions. If the government or regulator is less effective in preparing its case than private parties, we ensure that the appellate process largely biases justice towards those who have the resources to use it, rather than rectifying a miscarriage of justice. So in thinking through reforms, we may want to move from the theoretical ideal of how a system might work in a country with enormous administrative capacity, to how it would work in the actual Indian situation. Let me emphasize, we need “checks and balance”, but we should ensure a balance of checks. We cannot have escaped from the License Permit Raj only to end up in the Appellate Raj!

Finally, a heartening recent development is that more people across the country are becoming well-educated and equipped to compete. One of the most enjoyable experiences at the RBI is meeting the children of our Class IV employees, many of whom hold jobs as business executives in private sector firms. As, across the country, education makes our youth economically mobile, public support for free enterprise has expanded. Increasingly, therefore, the political dialogue has also moved, from giving hand outs to creating jobs. So long as we modulate the pace of liberalization to the pace at which we broaden economic capabilities, it is likely that the public will be supportive of reform. This also means that if we are to embed the four pillars supporting prosperity and political freedom firmly in our society, we have to continue to nurture the broadly equitable distribution of economic capabilities among our people. Economic inclusion, by which I mean easing access to quality education, nutrition, healthcare, finance, and markets to all our citizens, is therefore a necessity for sustainable growth. It is also, obviously, a moral imperative.

Notes:

The Origins of Political Order: From Pre-Human Times to the French Revolution by Francis Fukuyama, 2011, Farrar Straus and Giroux, New York.
Political Order and Political Decay: From the Industrial Revolution to the Globalization of Democracy by Francis Fukuyama, 2014, Farrar Straus and Giroux, and
Political Order in Changing Societies by Samuel Huntington, 1968, Yale University Press, New Haven.

Can Caste Be Swept Away? : New Socialist Initiative

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Courtesy: Manish Swarup/AP
 
It is cleaning season in India. Country's prime minister has gone to town with a broom. He started the campaign to clean India by sweeping a dalit neighburhood of erstwhile untouchables, seemingly breaking many caste barriers. There are very few public defenders of caste system nowadays. Upper caste men and women, whose ancestors only three generations ago fought tooth and nail to not yield even an inch of their caste privileges, now cry and organise under the slogan of Equality, once affirmative action for lower castes in educational institutions and government jobs has begun to have some traction. Is now not an opportune time to sweep away the garbage of caste into the dustbin of history?

Reality is too complex for this simple hope. If caste appears to be disregarded, or flouted, in some domains, its prejudices and violence are flourishing in others. The day country's news channels were busy showing the prime minister sweeping a dalit basti in the heart of the capital, a young woman of Madurai in Tamil Nadu was burnt alive by her family for marrying a dalit. She could have been from anywhere in the country, from Haryana in the North to Maharashtra in the West, or Bihar in the East, to have met a similar fate; if not murder, certainly social ostracism. In all villages, where majority of Indians live, habitation areas are divided along caste lines; upper castes occupying the most secure central areas with easiest access to public utilities like road, school, and panchayat ghar; and dalits on the outskirts. In cities too, where caste markers are less visible, caste networks are the most potent resource the poor fall back upon while searching for job and habitation. Come election time, the caste distribution of any constituency is the primary data for electoral calculations of every major political party. Caste remains a major determinant of personal life experiences. It stamps marriage and friendship of Indians, from a landless agricultural labourer to high professionals integrated into global economy. Yet, when one looks at the self-articulation of influential Indians about their country, caste is one social reality missing. The vision of the great future that country's prime minister painted for his fawning NRI audience at the Madison Square in New York had not a single reference to caste. Country's popular media, soap operas, films rarely refer to caste, in striking contrast to religion which is almost always carried on the sleeve. 

Why these two contrasting features of caste, its overwhelming presence in social reality, while simultaneous absence in dominant discourses? In fact, the absence of caste in India's dominant imaginings is not really an absence, a silence resulting from ignorance, lack of familiarity or interest. This absence comes along with a carefully crafted sub-text about caste, that serves the interests of a certain type of caste hegemony. Take the 'Swachh Bharat' campaign, a five year campaign to make India clean. If the campaign is successful, it will certainly make life better for every Indian, irrespective of caste, creed or religion. What better proof can be there of the universal concerns of the Indian state, or the currently ruling Bhartiya Janta Party, for the welfare of all? The inaugural 'event' of the campaign saw country's prime minister sweeping a Balmiki basti on 2nd October. But, why a dalit basti? Are these the dirtiest of the places in the country? Decades before Mr Modi went for his sweeping errand in the said bastee, Gandhi had lived there for a few days. Country's media and chatterati only saw the association with Gandhi on 2nd October, and his emphasis on cleanliness. But Gandhi had started his struggle (or rather experiments) with cleanliness by cleaning the community latrine at his Tolstoy farm in South Africa, much before he started the practice of living in Dalit bastees for a few days at a stretch, mainly after his conflict with Ambedkar over separate electorates for untouchables. Our prime minister is a proud Hindu, he would have surely known that surroundings of Hindu temples, or places of pilgrimages like Banaras, his parliamentary constituency, are among the filthiest in the country. Why not start a campaign of cleanliness from there? No secularist would have criticised him for that, for exhorting his co-religionists to keep their places of worship clean. Yet, only a dalit basti is seen fit for starting the national cleanliness campaign! Why? Because in the caste ridden popular consciousness of India, both dirt and broom are associated with dalits, the Balmiki caste in northern India, and other similar dalit castes in other parts of the country. Besides, the prime minister of the country cleaning a dalit basti follows the long tradition of politically dominant groups in India treating dalits condescendingly. Gandhi had started that tradition by christening untouchables as Harijans, a term much despised by dalit activists. If a politician is not willing to target the real scourge of dalits, the caste system, then the best s/he can do is to proclaim how worthy their condition is. Gandhi declared them 'God's people'; Mr Modi in one of his rare writings has declared cleaning others' filth a deeply 'spiritual' experience. Mr Modi's jaunt also fit like a glove with the strategy of his mentor organisation. The RSS, forever making stories to target Muslim community, has come up with a new theory for the condition of dalit castes in Hindu society. For it, pretty much like the second rate position of women among Hindus, the social deprivation of “untouchables” came about due to invasion of the country by the outsiders. RSS's is a concerted plan to bring dalit caste voters under its Hindutva fold, so that a solid electoral majority of all the so called Hindus can be created. Gandhi too had tried the same with his campaigns against untouchability. 

While the dominant political forces in the country have been trying to incorporate dalit castes within their political programmes, their poverty and oppression has continued. Sixty four years after the country was declared a republic based upon liberty and equality, the Balmikis in the heart of national capital are still living in a separate neighbourhood. Generations have come and gone, yet the overwhelming majority of them still clean city's filth. Many of them are employed by the government. But none of the governments have thought of providing them with mixed housing where their neighbours could be teachers, or clerks of other castes? Why this segregation? Why decades after government jobs were opened to all, irrespective of caste, one class of profession, that of cleaning public places, has been one hundred percent occupied by the men and women of only specific dalit castes?
 
Caste question though, is not only a question of dalit oppression and exclusion, even while the latter are the most glaring examples of its inhumanity and barbarity. As Dr Ambedkar shows in Annihilation of Caste, arguably the most important social analysis of India coming to us from the recent past, the caste system makes Hindu society uniquely incapable of freedom, liberty, equality and fraternity. Written in 1936, Annihilation of Caste is not about specific conditions of outcaste untouchables, as are many of Ambedkar's other writings. It squarely addressed itself to caste 'Hindus'. Its identification of weaknesses of ‘Hindu' society are actually weaknesses of society in India that continue to the present. Caste is a system of privilege and hierarchy. While in most societies that are unequal, privilege and hierarchy are largely a secular affair, caste projects these to a sacred plane and justifies them through religion. It considers as polluting the useful work of those living through the sweat of their brow. It elevates the chanting of Sanskrit mumbo jumbo, and the use of violence to rule over others, as sacred karma duties, while the immensely useful occupations like growing food, or cleaning the public places, including taking care of dead animals, without which society can not survive, as Karmic punishments for bad deeds in past births. Further, as Dr. Ambedkar notes, it justifies not only a hierarchical division of labour, but actually is a system of division of labourers. The caste division of humans, inspired and sanctioned by religion, and stamped from birth, gets so deeply ingrained in the self conception of its human subjects, that they come to view members of other castes in exclusive terms. So much so, that according to him even a Hindu society can not be said to exist in the usual sense of the word. ‘Caste has killed public spirit. Caste has destroyed the public charity. Caste has made public opinion impossible.' By prohibiting Shudras, the majority of Hindus, from learning, bearing arms and owning wealth, caste dis-empowered them to challenge the supremacy of upper castes. Looking at European history for comparison, Dr. Ambedkar notes 'But in Europe the strong have never contrived to make the weak helpless against exploitation so shamelessely as was the case in India among Hindus. Social war has been raging between the strong and weak far more violently in Europe than it has ever been in India. Yet, the weak in Europe has had in his freedom of military service his physical weapon, in suffering his political weapon and in education his moral weapon (emphasis in the original).' These 'weapons were, however, denied to the masses in India by Chaturvaranya.' 
 
Caste continues to explain many facets of India in the twenty first century. For instance, why is India one of the filthiest of the countries in the world, a fact of some embarrassment to its rulers in a globalising world? Its poverty is not the chief reason. Many poorer countries are cleaner. The rich in India are not only profligate generators of garbage like the rich everywhere, what distinguishes them is the abandon with which they throw their garbage all around. Within India itself southern states like Kerala and Tamil Nadu are cleaner than richer states like Punjab and Haryana. A major part of the reason lies with the caste system which made certain untouchable castes only responsible for public cleanliness. The ones on whom fell the job of keeping public places clean were the most oppressed, they could never command others to not litter. On the other hand, precisely because of caste, the cleanliness of public spaces never became a public concern for everyone. Further, the Brahmanical notions of pollution create irrational antipathy towards natural human excretions. Indians will spit, shit and pee everywhere, rather than follow simple rules and precautions to manage their bodily wastes. Rich rural households in India are known to spend on fancy consumer gadgets, rather than have a functional toilet at home. 

Or, take another example. Why is India's youth so given to follow parental and social diktats in matters as personal as love, marriage, field of study and profession? Why this utter lack of liberty, and fear of freedom? At root lies the social control and moral world of caste. Individual initiatives, even asking questions like Arjuna (Is the killing of kith and kin worthwhile for gaining a kingdom?) are subservient to Karmic duties enjoined by caste. Humans are but cogs in the Karmic wheel. Behind such fatalism, seen as lofty spiritualism by a beevie of Hindu upper caste thinkers and leaders, lies the fear of change and desire for orthodoxy. Hindu caste endogamy is permised upon strict control over female sexuality. Women are not only the means to maintain caste purity, but as caste subjects they also become its votaries. An incident narrated by Professor Uma Chakravarty is revealing. Intense agitations by upper castes erupted in early nineties after V.P. Singh government extended reservations in government jobs to the so called other backward castes. Among the agitators were a group of young women, city bred and university educated with placards declaring their opposition to reservations because it robs them off qualified husbands. Class conscious, upper caste educated women just could not countenance the possibility that if there were going to be fewer upper caste men in the elite government services, they might as well marry government officers from backward castes. Hindu caste system produces dutiful, even if resentful, sons and daughters, who are too afraid to love freely. It creates followers and upholders of tradition, who are too scared to stand up for their rights as adult citizens, or raise their voice against violation of others' rights. 
 
Functioning of caste in India now is much different from Dr. Ambedkar's days. Caste segregation is still present, but caste aggregates have become much larger than localised jatis of earlier times. The upper three castes have largely moved into urban areas, where caste boundaries have further weakened among them. In politics, culture, professional lives, even in marriages to some extent, they are beginning to form largely homogeneous groups at the regional level. But they as a group, are still distinct from the rest of the Hindus. In many places in rural India, sections of the landowning erstwhile Sudra castes have emerged as the dominant caste. They in fact are now the biggest perpetrators of violence against dalit castes. Political mobilisation has been most successful among the backward castes, and many of their leaders and parties have gained access to state power. The majority of backward castes though remain poor, and socially and culturally backward. As Professor Ashwani Deshpande's research shows, the gap between education, employment, income, etc between the three upper castes and backward castes has practically remained same over many decades. A small section among dalits, around ten percent, have gained access to higher education and state employment through affirmative action of the state. However, against Dr Ambedkar's expectations this section has failed to lead dalits to a better life. Key responsibility though lies with the failure of Indian state to provide universal elementary education and basic health. So that the poor, a major section among whom are dalits, keep languishing in a life of illiteracy and poverty. Nevertheless, a perception has grown that only particular castes among dalits have monopolised the benefit of job reservations, and calls have started coming for reservations within reservations. More worryingly, even the dalits who have benefited often fail to stand against oppression of their caste brethren. Anand Teltumbde has shown how many state functionaries who dealt with the Khairlanji murder and rape of dalits women were themselves dalits, yet they failed to initiate proper legal action against perpetrators of the crime. 
 
Capitalism and electoral politics have played a dangerous game with caste. They have added new idioms to its prejudices, and created new fissures, while also modifying its modus operandi. Even while de-ritualised and secularised, caste remains a system of discrimination and prejudice. Upper castes remain at the top of all power structures, whether state, economy, or culture. Despite the formal trappings of democracy, Indian state has failed to create a universalist framework for citizenship rights. Popular culture does not espouse freedom, and dignity of a person; it remains trapped in regurgitating traditional relationships and motifs. While the upper castes in power have failed in creating a society of equals, they also do not accept as equal successful men and women of other castes. Dalit students and government servants continue to face harassment. Upper castes resent the success of Dalits or OBCs in politics. They do not mind a Modi, or a Ramdev from backward castes, who speak in their language and do not challenge their caste supremacy, but Ms. Mayawati, who openly asserts her identity and politics as different from upper castes, is an anathema. On the other hand, the politics and mobilisations of oppressed castes are increasingly taking the form of sectarian identity politics, they too tend to project only narrow sectional demands, creating further fissures, rather than unity of all the oppressed. Caste in its current form continues to be an impediment to liberty, equality and fraternity, as it is was in Ambedkar's time, and Indian society appears as oblivious to this anti-democratic thrust of caste now, as it was then.
 
The failure to deal adequately with caste by the non-communal political forces in India is an important reason for the rise of rightwing Hindutva politics, which is leading country to another abyss. The dangerous mix of a hidden caste prejudice and hatred for minorities will rob Indians of little democratic rights they have. Even though the rise of Mr Modi has many incidental causes, like the corruption, incompetence and venality of the Congress led UPA, in caste terms it represents a reorientation of upper caste hegemony. It is an attempt to push caste under the dirty rug of a great 'Hindu' tradition, the same tradition which actually dehumanised and oppressed majority of Indians. While the politics of Hidutva right is directly opposite to the vision of Dr Ambedkar, the opportunism of narrow identity politics is so shameless that many dalit leaders with some base among specific dalit castes, Mr Paswan, Mr Udit Raj, etc., have joined the Hindutva band wagon. 
 
The project of democracy in India, of forming an association of free citizens who have gotten rid of caste once for all, the one for which Dr Ambedkar fought tirelessly, is dangerously cornered. Yet, this precisely is the time to envision and etch outlines of a counter hegemony that will challenge the hierarchy and prejudices of caste. This vision should include democratic aspirations of all of the oppressed. It should assert the citizenship rights of all against an authoritarian state. It should create a humanist and secular popular culture that honours personal freedoms and liberties of everyone, irrespective of gender, caste, religion, language, or nationality.

08/10/2014
Executive Committee
Delhi State Chapter
New Socialist Initiative (NSI)
 

Background – Naroda Patiya Judgement

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Archived from Communalism Combat,November 2012  Year 19    No.168, Cover Story