The citizen and the faithful

By Harish Khare

SPARE A thought, if you will, for Mr. Amitabh Bachchan. Here is a man who once mesmerised a whole generation of cine fans and who continues to dazzle on the television screen, but who now reportedly finds himself having to be going around in the United States, armed with newspaper testimonials of his Indian celebrity, lest an overzealous immigration officer should suspect him of being a non-American with doubtful intentions. Similar humiliations and insults have been experienced by the children of powerful Indian families after the September 11 terrorist attacks. Anger and indignation, if any, at being treated suspiciously have been silently and stoically borne. Unfair, may be; after all, non-citizens can advance no claims against the state.

Whether the world likes it or not, the U.S. is not going to be the open, friendly, accommodating and welcoming place it was before Black Tuesday. The outrage over the World Trade Center tragedy and the traditional paranoia against the outsider have combined to roll back the ambience of liberal tolerance. Even those immigrants who have opted to become American citizens would find themselves having to prove themselves loyal Americans, a test that the White American male may not be called upon to pass. Discrimination; too bad, if that is the only way to secure ``American security''.

But do we need to emulate the new American model of suspicion and discrimination? A decade ago we put our faith in another American model in the matter of economic organisation, priorities and policies; the results, at best, were mixed. A decade later, once again, another set of rulers appears to be on the verge of taking inspiration from the American model of prejudices between citizen and citizen. The ban on the Students Islamic Movement of India (SIMI) is only a small manifestation of the new thinking; or, rather, of the old thinking, getting emboldened by the unfolding discriminatory impulses in the U.S.

As it is, the relationship between the Indian state and the citizens has remained, even at the best of the times, a rather tenuous affair. This relationship gets overloaded all too often with resentment and anger that citizens feel towards an ineffective and insensitive official machinery; be it located in Patna or Madurai or Kolkata or in Srinagar, the citizen invariably has enough reasons, rather very compelling, to feel angry over this order or that rule administrated by an intimidating bureaucracy. A reasonably functioning democracy and its concomitant rule of law provide the citizens viable avenues of redress of grievances as well as instruments of empowerment to get even with indifferent rulers. The Indian state is both the beneficiary and a victim of this democratic arrangement. Rarely do sullen citizens feel the need to confront the state outside the recognised rules of democratic engagement.

Given the challenge from those who use terror as a means of opposing a state order, the Indian state too reserves the right to use coercion - physical, financial, legal - against those who will deprive its citizens of their liberties and right to an existence without fear. As a corollary, the citizens are under an obligation to render allegiance, obedience, and blood, if necessary, to the state. However, the danger after the September 11 horrendous tragedy in New York is that a section of the Indian citizens, namely the Muslims, may find itself - or may choose to find itself - embroiled in the new and frenzied demands of loyalty and allegiance being made by the U.S. on its citizens. The onus, though, is on the Indian state not to get sucked into knee-jerk responses being deemed fashionable in Washington.

To begin with dissent with the Government of the day or with its approach to any international event cannot in itself invite the charge of disloyalty. A citizen may disagree, for example, with the Vajpayee Government's stand at the next round of WTO negotiations, without anyone questioning the citizen's loyalty to India. This citizen may be a Hindu or a Muslim; his religion does not bother anyone. But this equanimity evaporates in thin air when it comes to taking a stand, say for instance on Osama bin Laden. If a non-Muslim citizen warns against overdoing things, no one accuses him of being a disloyal citizen, but if a Muslim intellectual or a cleric chooses to tell a thing or two to the U.S., this dissent ipso facto is seen as a case of doubtful patriotism.

When Mr. L. K. Advani let it be known that he had indeed told the American Ambassador that the world was yet to see clinching evidence of Osama bin Laden's involvement in the September 11 carnage, the Home Minister is applauded for his very becoming bluntness; if the Shahi Imam of the Jama Masjid makes the same point, in a more animated tone and in a more colourful language, many of us are inclined to become suspicious. Why should admiration for Osama bin Laden or Saddam Hussain be perceived as an act of disloyalty to India just because Washington has revised its lists of friends and enemies? Do we have to subject a sizable chunk of our population to the same humiliation and indignity being inflicted on the Americans of South Asian descent?

On the other hand, does a citizen's religious affiliation override the demands and obligation of loyalty to the state? Just as the Indian state cannot and must not demand that a Muslim citizen periodically demonstrate his patriotism, do the Muslims have a right to claim an extra space and extra voice when it comes to India's relationship with the Islamic world? And, even if the Muslims do feel they need to have a say in the matter, do we need to doubt their right as citizens to be heard on a matter of concern? We do not get worked up, for example, if the Akali Dal voices concern over a Sikh being killed in Arizona? Or, we feel it perfectly natural to speak up when ``dot-busters'' go to work in suburban New Jersey, without anyone raising question of deshbhakti.

On the face of it, there cannot be any intrinsic conflict between loyalty to one's religion and loyalty to one's country. The problem arises when it is argued that the faithful's concerns over his religion's global difficulties override his obligations as a citizen. In the present context, the war against terrorism and the invocation of jehad makes a call on the Muslim citizens. It is one thing for any organisation, even if it happens to be an exclusive Muslim body, to express sympathy, solidarity and if possible to extend material support for the cause of the Palestinians; it is quite another thing for a Muslim group to feel duty-bound to aid and abet waging of war against Israeli establishments in India. A citizen's democratic right to protest and voice dissent has to be different from a faithful's right to throw a hand grenade just because someone has given a call for a jehad.

In other words, no citizen can have a right to claim any moral ambivalence in case there is a conflict between the state and those who choose to confront and oppose it, using violence and terror. Unfortunately, a new ambivalent note is creeping in the pronouncements, especially on events in Jammu and Kashmir, from those who claim to be the representative voice of the minorities.

No amount of exaggerated account of ``excesses'' of the security forces in Kashmir can come anywhere near the killings, torture, mass rape ethnic Afghans/Talibanis have inflicted upon fellow- Afghans. Those who would not appreciate the Indian state's difficulties and travails cannot demand sensitivity and understanding from that very state. Both the faithful and the citizen need to have moral clarity in these times of terror.

Send this article to Friends by E-Mail

Section  : Opinion
Previous : Taliban and the anti-terror stakes
Next     : Panchayat Raj in Karnataka - I