What’s the plan, Rahul Gandhi was asked. He replied that tandava, the cosmic dance of destruction and creation, does not need a plan. The cosmos knows the steps already. It’s fortunate that he gets it, because after the dancing is over, his party is likely to play a key role in restoring the Indian political system.
That’s assuming that the protesters remain steadfast and that all else remains constant in a turbulent world. If so, it’s an educated guess that the Modi government’s repressive actions would backfire and that power may slip from its fingers sooner rather than later.
Young protesters may not have a plan, but they know exactly what they want: systemic change. Goodbye to the ossified politics of pervasive corruption, outdated hierarchies and rituals, and absurd totems and hatreds. That means dismantling the very foundation—India’s culture of distrust, which is a colonial hangover from when the rulers and the ruled were species apart.
Democracies which were not preceded by colonialism are usually trust-based cultures. What the citizen says is believed and the onus to prove otherwise is on the government. In contrast, Indian citizens are presumed guilty until proven innocent and the onus of proof is on them. Many of India’s chronic disorders flow from this differential.
The Congress is the right party to dismantle this superstructure, because it erected most of its beams and girders. Not because it is particularly vile, but because it has had the advantage of time—it has been in power much longer than the competition. The BJP has been spectacularly anti-democratic—its run rate is much higher, but its innings has been far shorter.
India’s police and paramilitaries are earning disgrace globally for indiscriminately detaining and assaulting thousands of peaceful protesters, bystanders, women and even children on the orders of their political masters. This is inevitable because in the absence of reform, they are still performing the role of a colonial force subjugating a native population.
Calls for police reform reached a crescendo in 1977, following extreme brutality during the Emergency. The actress and activist Snehalata Reddy died following ill-treatment for eight months in jail without trial. The engineering student P Rajan died under torture. These were only the most shocking cases.
The National Police Commission was formed in 1977 to professionalise the force and insulate it from political pressure. Four committees and commissions were appointed since then, a PIL was filed by the senior police officer Prakash Singh and the Supreme Court issued directions in 2006. Compliance has been incomplete.
So now, students, activists, MPs and journalists, many of them women, are being abused and physically and sexually assaulted by the police and paramilitaries. Would a future Congress-led alliance be willing to enforce police reforms―and renounce the ability to use the force as a private army?
Consider the draconian laws which the Modi government has used to imprison and harass a long list of perceived enemies, from the Bhima-Koregaon detenus of 2018 to Sharjeel Imam and Umar Khalid, who remain in custody without trial. The laws most amenable to such ignoble purposes were originally legislated by the Congress or the Congress-led UPA: the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (1967), the National Security Act (1980), the IT (Amendment) Act of 2008 (which added the controversial Section 66A).
Financial curbs were initiated under COFEPOSA (1974) and the Foreign Contribution (Regulation) Act (1976) followed during the Emergency to prevent Indian NGOs from being caressed by the “black hand of the CIA”. The UPA government used it to clamp down on the non-profit sector, and the present home ministry uses it for close control over voluntary and charitable work.
Legislations of the BJP-led NDA governments have sharpened the teeth of these laws. While recasting the statute books, the BJP also tuned up colonial-era laws, making it easier to make dissent resemble sedition—a crime which should have vanished along with royalty.
The objective of listing laws originated by Congress and UPA governments is to point out that when it appears that a page is about to be turned in Indian politics, and that the Congress’s hand could help turn that page, it has an opportunity to atone. In long-term electoral defeat, the nature of the party and its leadership has improved. It has also adapted better to the times than the BJP, which remains feudal.
The Congress could resist the temptation to make new laws like MISA and UAPA, which are tools of repression dressed up as instruments for securing important-sounding but vague goals like national security, unity and integrity, public safety, cybersecurity, responsible use of social media, protection against the foreign hand―it’s a long list.
From the time of the Ram Janmabhoomi movement, Indian politics has been the province of oppressive peevishness, a game-board for petty grudge matches over half-imaginary grouses and traumas. The soul of India has always been much larger, ample and forgiving. Soon, there will be an opportunity to return to a healthier political culture which looks forward to the future instead of nursing the grievances of a poorly-lit past.
But to find the path of progressive politics which India was once celebrated for, past excesses must be acknowledged and abjured. After the tandava ends, perhaps the story of Indian democracy will begin anew.
Pratik Kanjilal | SPEAKEASY | For years, the author has been speaking easy to a surprisingly tolerant public
(Views are personal)