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A conundrum of race, relics and righteous rage

A conundrum of race, relics and righteous rage

In a world where our fates are inextricably tied, it is difficult to imagine a future based on the erasure of the past, however traumatic or unjust it might be

There is nothing new about the US race riots. After nearly three centuries of slave trade, hundred years of racial violence, decades of racial tension, numerous incidents of unrestrained police behaviour towards the African Americans, routine protests and occasional riots, the recent images emerging from the US attest to a social realism that the world is all too familiar with. With the protests growing in spread, strength and vehemence, the demonstrators have started targetting Confederate landmarks and pulling down statues of slave traders. There have also been calls to rechristen army bases named after Confederate commanders; a move which US President Donald Trump has vowed to oppose in order to protect American heritage and the history of military triumphs. Taking a cue from the US, anti-racism campaigners in England, too, have set out on a defacing spree, unleashing their ire on statues of Winston Churchill, Queen Victoria and even Gandhi. However, when we attempt to reset the clock by “killing” the dead and decapitate statues, we often fail to build something of value in its stead.

In the BBC documentary, Tearing up History: The Art of Revolution,  which deals with the large-scale destruction of art and architecture during the French revolution, art historian David Clay argues that such acts of vandalism are well nigh as powerful as acts of creation. Accounts of 1792 capture the zeal with which the revolutionaries went about demolishing statues, memorials and palaces — all symbols of the ancient regime. So copious was the revolutionary zeal to de-Christianise and rationalise France that the seemingly innocuous ways of registering time were also altered. Names of days and months were changed on the calendar and days commemorating saints were removed. Sylvain Marechal, a notorious atheist, poet and political theorist, went as far as secularising the connotation of December 25 from the birth of Lord Jesus to that of Isaac Newton.

In spite of the reign of terror, the monarchical ambition of Napoleon in his later years and the sheer fact that within a space of 22 years the deposed Bourbon dynasty was restored, French experiments with radical social reengineering did yield a few results. However, bulldozing art or attempts at reordering time according to revolutionary ethics have only left behind a bitter legacy of confusion and pain.

The past never really evaporates and continues to inform our present. The erasure of the past, however bitter, cannot be the basis of a lasting future. We know this because Nelson Mandela carved a rainbow nation in post-apartheid South Africa through reconciliation and Germany decided against dismantling the Nazi concentration camps, lest the coming generations of Germans forget the crimes their ancestors had committed.

This is not to suggest that busts of slave traders should adorn public squares in the US or wherever coloured races have suffered. But how much of the world can be really built anew? Statues, institutions and edifices of what antiquity or which period can be safely removed?

In the context of India, much like any other country of the world, these questions precipitate a set of irredeemably baffling answers. There are so many overlaps between pre-and post-Independence India and there is so much that we have borrowed from our colonial exploiters. Our Constitution draws generously from the Government of India Act, 1935, our Parliament is modelled on the British Westminster style and the best of our universities were established during  colonial times. Must we shut our hallowed temples just because of their colonial past? Should we destroy the busts and the forts of India’s erstwhile royals because of the caste and economic discrimination they represent and because democracy by its definition is antithetical to feudalism? Or should we prohibit the sons and daughters of former royal families from holding public offices because some of them continue to thrive on account of those identities and in those palaces?

Surely, their heritage notwithstanding, no Indian would ever contemplate dismantling the aforementioned institutions which have served our democracy so faithfully. Surely we cannot overlook the monumental contributions of the Maharajas of Darbhanga, Travancore and Bikaner, to name just a few, who have done so much to modernise India. If we start retracing our steps to arrive at the origin of a crisis, located at some point in the remote past, we would find ourselves stranded in the middle of Darwin’s archipelago. Hardening of administrative positions, calling the protestors “thugs” or making propositions like “no justice, no peace” lend themselves to the archaic Aristotelian logic of the “excluded middle” — a premise which leaves no room for negotiation or a middle ground — planks that we need for lasting truce. Besides, such a position blurs those distinctions that exist between the real oppressors and ideological adversaries. If we allow ourselves to be blinded by rage, however fair it might be, we often tend to misjudge and even Gandhi becomes a racist class enemy.

It is true that melting pots like the US leave much to be desired. Equally valid is the contention that transfer of power, such as the one that took place in India, is at best incomplete. In a country like the US and for that matter in most European nations, the process of integration is far from perfect. If we keep throwing the moments of “first contact” or the unfortunate reality of colonialism into relief, we are bound to regress several steps away from a possible resolution. Mrinal Sen’s film Interview offers an interesting take on this dilemma. The film opens with a newsreel showing the removal of colonial statues from Maidan, Kolkata’s largest public park. However, attempts to sanitise the city of its colonial vestiges contrast ironically with the fate of the protagonist. Ranjit fails to get a lucrative job with a multinational company because he fails to show up for the interview dressed in immaculate Western attire.

In a world where our fates are inextricably tied, it is difficult to imagine a future based on the erasure of the past, however traumatic or unjust it might be. Indeed, it is difficult to imagine RK Narayan’s fictional Malgudi, which has over the decades become a universal metaphor for the “real” India, without the statue of that unknown British general that stands proudly in its bustling market.

(Writer: Gautam Choubey; Courtesy: The Pioneer)

A conundrum of race, relics and righteous rage

A conundrum of race, relics and righteous rage

In a world where our fates are inextricably tied, it is difficult to imagine a future based on the erasure of the past, however traumatic or unjust it might be

There is nothing new about the US race riots. After nearly three centuries of slave trade, hundred years of racial violence, decades of racial tension, numerous incidents of unrestrained police behaviour towards the African Americans, routine protests and occasional riots, the recent images emerging from the US attest to a social realism that the world is all too familiar with. With the protests growing in spread, strength and vehemence, the demonstrators have started targetting Confederate landmarks and pulling down statues of slave traders. There have also been calls to rechristen army bases named after Confederate commanders; a move which US President Donald Trump has vowed to oppose in order to protect American heritage and the history of military triumphs. Taking a cue from the US, anti-racism campaigners in England, too, have set out on a defacing spree, unleashing their ire on statues of Winston Churchill, Queen Victoria and even Gandhi. However, when we attempt to reset the clock by “killing” the dead and decapitate statues, we often fail to build something of value in its stead.

In the BBC documentary, Tearing up History: The Art of Revolution,  which deals with the large-scale destruction of art and architecture during the French revolution, art historian David Clay argues that such acts of vandalism are well nigh as powerful as acts of creation. Accounts of 1792 capture the zeal with which the revolutionaries went about demolishing statues, memorials and palaces — all symbols of the ancient regime. So copious was the revolutionary zeal to de-Christianise and rationalise France that the seemingly innocuous ways of registering time were also altered. Names of days and months were changed on the calendar and days commemorating saints were removed. Sylvain Marechal, a notorious atheist, poet and political theorist, went as far as secularising the connotation of December 25 from the birth of Lord Jesus to that of Isaac Newton.

In spite of the reign of terror, the monarchical ambition of Napoleon in his later years and the sheer fact that within a space of 22 years the deposed Bourbon dynasty was restored, French experiments with radical social reengineering did yield a few results. However, bulldozing art or attempts at reordering time according to revolutionary ethics have only left behind a bitter legacy of confusion and pain.

The past never really evaporates and continues to inform our present. The erasure of the past, however bitter, cannot be the basis of a lasting future. We know this because Nelson Mandela carved a rainbow nation in post-apartheid South Africa through reconciliation and Germany decided against dismantling the Nazi concentration camps, lest the coming generations of Germans forget the crimes their ancestors had committed.

This is not to suggest that busts of slave traders should adorn public squares in the US or wherever coloured races have suffered. But how much of the world can be really built anew? Statues, institutions and edifices of what antiquity or which period can be safely removed?

In the context of India, much like any other country of the world, these questions precipitate a set of irredeemably baffling answers. There are so many overlaps between pre-and post-Independence India and there is so much that we have borrowed from our colonial exploiters. Our Constitution draws generously from the Government of India Act, 1935, our Parliament is modelled on the British Westminster style and the best of our universities were established during  colonial times. Must we shut our hallowed temples just because of their colonial past? Should we destroy the busts and the forts of India’s erstwhile royals because of the caste and economic discrimination they represent and because democracy by its definition is antithetical to feudalism? Or should we prohibit the sons and daughters of former royal families from holding public offices because some of them continue to thrive on account of those identities and in those palaces?

Surely, their heritage notwithstanding, no Indian would ever contemplate dismantling the aforementioned institutions which have served our democracy so faithfully. Surely we cannot overlook the monumental contributions of the Maharajas of Darbhanga, Travancore and Bikaner, to name just a few, who have done so much to modernise India. If we start retracing our steps to arrive at the origin of a crisis, located at some point in the remote past, we would find ourselves stranded in the middle of Darwin’s archipelago. Hardening of administrative positions, calling the protestors “thugs” or making propositions like “no justice, no peace” lend themselves to the archaic Aristotelian logic of the “excluded middle” — a premise which leaves no room for negotiation or a middle ground — planks that we need for lasting truce. Besides, such a position blurs those distinctions that exist between the real oppressors and ideological adversaries. If we allow ourselves to be blinded by rage, however fair it might be, we often tend to misjudge and even Gandhi becomes a racist class enemy.

It is true that melting pots like the US leave much to be desired. Equally valid is the contention that transfer of power, such as the one that took place in India, is at best incomplete. In a country like the US and for that matter in most European nations, the process of integration is far from perfect. If we keep throwing the moments of “first contact” or the unfortunate reality of colonialism into relief, we are bound to regress several steps away from a possible resolution. Mrinal Sen’s film Interview offers an interesting take on this dilemma. The film opens with a newsreel showing the removal of colonial statues from Maidan, Kolkata’s largest public park. However, attempts to sanitise the city of its colonial vestiges contrast ironically with the fate of the protagonist. Ranjit fails to get a lucrative job with a multinational company because he fails to show up for the interview dressed in immaculate Western attire.

In a world where our fates are inextricably tied, it is difficult to imagine a future based on the erasure of the past, however traumatic or unjust it might be. Indeed, it is difficult to imagine RK Narayan’s fictional Malgudi, which has over the decades become a universal metaphor for the “real” India, without the statue of that unknown British general that stands proudly in its bustling market.

(Writer: Gautam Choubey; Courtesy: The Pioneer)

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