Several months have passed since the Chandramohan incident, which I’d dealt with in some detail in the last issue (NQ168—“The rise of fascist acts in India”). But the record of events that followed in its wake needs to be updated to take account of subsequent developments of a serious nature. Especially since this is hardly a popular issue that’s on the national radar—it has been isolated and all but forgotten.

In an interview he gave in June 2007, Shivaji Panikkar, the suspended Dean, bluntly stated the real reason behind the attack on the Faculty of Fine Arts, M.S. University, Baroda. In spite of his own suspension as the Dean and his continuing persecution, he's fully aware of the bigger picture: the Narendra Modi government in particular has been preparing the ground for such an assault since it is desperate to strip M.S. University of its autonomy and bring it in line with educational institutions in Gujarat that are already under government diktat through the Common Act.

It is as though the central government’s HRD Ministry, which stifles the autonomy of all institutions under its umbrella, is acting as the model for a State government. Whither intellectual autonomy?—it is simply withering away… slowly. This stranglehold ensures puny minds at home, and at the same time the wholesale export of minds that seek truly autonomous schools of higher learning abroad.

In this vein Martha Nussbaum (in her essay “Future of Democracy in India”) probes the system of education in Gujarat and concludes that it is largely in tune with the values espoused by the Hindutva brigade, not only in a religious context but also in terms of its narrow focus on marketable skills; it is not concerned with critical thinking, and generally looks down on the arts and humanities. The material trappings associated with this bias seem like a gloss over a resurgent Hindu consciousness that has Gujarat in its grip—that will likely continue to inform its politics and actions on the ground.

In July we read these headlines: Sangh Parivar goons attack Shivaji Panikkar.
Shabnam Hashmi has given us a detailed eyewitness account of this incident in Ahmedabad. On his website, indiauncut.com, Amit Varma quotes Panikkar: “Hate is being sold wholesale in Gujarat state, it is sadly the state’s biggest export currently” (speaking to Mumbai Mirror journalist, Vishwas Kulkarni). Varma comments further:

That these goons physically attacked Panikkar with impunity in Ahmedabad exposes Modi's tactics as perhaps nothing else can.
Shortly after this attack, a three-member committee appointed by the Governor of Gujarat held a hearing (Aug 7) to probe this whole affair. But since the top brass at MS University refused to allow these proceedings inside the campus, they were held at Circuit House in Vadodara. Their findings and recommendations are revealing:

There’s no limit to the extent of lies and misrepresentations spun by this ‘pro-saffron’ Syndicate, which is out to whitewash the original, unconstitutional, illegal attack on the FFA in May 2007 and substitute this shameful act with its own agenda of undermining and discrediting the creative autonomy of the FFA. Academic immunity, or independence, clearly has no place in this vexed atmosphere deliberately fueled by these ‘saffron’ ideologues. Given the well-documented facts in this case, the Syndicate comes across as an authoritarian, self-serving body that is economical with the truth.

Panikkar’s efforts to get re-instated as the Dean have been foiled, and his other demands have been summarily ignored—who knows how long it will take him to secure the justice he deserves. Instead of the voice of sanity that he is, the powers that be have painted him as the culprit. At a seminar held in Mumbai in September, Panikkar couldn’t help but present a disturbing picture: “In the current scenario the Faculty of Fine Arts can fortify its walls to preserve its autonomy and restrict engagement with the local youth — a prior practice. Alternatively, the university authorities, who are right wing-aligned, have appointed a committee that will monitor the day to day working of the Faculty so that no ‘contentious’ art may be produced.”

The appeal for action sent to the President of India by Romila Thapar and Deepak Nayyar, and then (jointly with Andre Béteille) to the Prime Minister, mentioned in my earlier review, has gone unheard—or unheeded. The PM is preoccupied with portentous matters of state that have little to do with freedom of expression. When one considers big issues like energy sufficiency (if not independence) and military strategy vis-à-vis nuclear power, issues like the attack on university autonomy by politically-motivated cadres backed by a shameless state government seem to pale by comparison. It’s not surprising that the Prime Minister’s Office wasn’t nudged into action by what it would consider a ‘trifle’, a mere blip on India’s troubled and tumultuous political landscape. It is more worried about its own survival, not the survival of personal autonomy or free speech.

In a thoughtful piece that appeared in the IE (Sept 15), Ram Rahman (an artist-photographer) poses a simple question concerning the iconic painter, M.F. Husain: “Why is he in exile?” Husain has legal cases filed against him across India by Hindutva forces ever since he took artistic liberties in depicting Hindu goddesses, and painted what they call obscene images that insult or hurt the sentiments of all who follow the Hindu faith. Being a Muslim, Husain is an ideal target for Hindu fundamentalists of all stripes, who can very conveniently brand him as an anti-Hindu painter. Rahman quotes the late philosopher, Ramchandra Gandhi’s lament shortly before his death: “It pains me deeply that these people are attacking Husain... how can they attack him... he is like a child! He, like our toy makers, plays with line and colour and form, and like those toy-makers he will sometimes magically make an icon!”

Rahman gets at the root of Husain’s exile: “This campaign against Husain should be seen very clearly for what it is…. The Hindutva attack on him has nothing to do with his iconography or the so called ‘protection of Hinduism’. It has solely to do with mobilizing the cadres of communal political forces. The tragedy for us is that no other political force has the courage to take a stand against these people for fear of being branded ‘anti-Hindu’”. Rahman mentions how he and a group of artists met the home minister last year regarding the obscenity charges against Husain—they came away convinced that the government didn’t want to be seen to be ‘appeasing the minorities’. Political expediency rules, just as it does when the HRD Ministry avoids any serious confrontation with Modi’s repressive agenda, implemented through proxies that preside over M.S. University. What Modi professes in public (HT Summit, Oct 12-13)—that Hindutva is not part of his political agenda-- is mostly at odds with his practice.

Artistic expression continues to bite the dust, and this poses a grave danger to all independent creative activity. Rahman elaborates on artists being exiled in other parts of the world: “Artists have been exiled from other countries during different periods of history. For the most part, these have been writers and filmmakers, whose creative power is based on the written word. Fewer painters or sculptors have had to face such ostracism, and the reason is simple. The written word carries a direct power and meaning whose distortion or misinterpretation is difficult. The visual arts, on the other hand, and modern art more so, are much harder for a lay person to analyse, interpret and are less prone to being labelled in any fixed manner. We can understand why people in power, or those seeking power, are so frightened of the written word. But do we know of any painting or frieze or sculpture which has caused an overthrow of a government? Why is it then, that political forces attack visual artists?”

Rahman gives examples of various artists that were exiled by Franco in Spain and Hitler in Germany. I would add that questionable lyrics have occasionally been condemned by some, but a musician or composer has almost never been attacked for the music itself—as an art form, music is so intangible and self-contained, with an intrinsic meaning, as to be largely safe from the attacks of extremists or ideologues of any hue.

A captive mind (we’ve seen its hideous forms in Spain, Germany and the Communist states) bodes ill for any society—India is no exception. Yet terrorism of the mind inevitably takes a back seat to its horrifying physical avatar, that has held India in its grip for some two decades. How can the fight for freedom of expression—or autonomy—compete with the murder of innocents in recent acts of terror on Indian soil? Terrorism, whether physical or mental, can’t be taken lightly, though it clearly takes human lives lightly.

For the most part we in India enjoy the kind of free speech that the rest of the world would envy. But that is no consolation for Panikkar, Chandramohan, Husain and a few others who’re now—as of this writing—in  the dock for expressing themselves freely or defending that freedom; who await a proper debate, fair play and justice. The well known artist, Anjolie Ela Menon, has suggested (IE, Sept 23) that despite the persecution and humiliation he has had to endure, Husain, now 92, should simply return from exile and dare the authorities to arrest and put him in jail, as though to call their bluff.    

Skirting matters of principle, Swapan Dasgupta offered a somewhat different point of view in “Faith flashpoints” (Times of India, Sept 23). He wrote that “…Indian secularism has many faults, but its one redeeming feature is that it has become unacceptable and even illegal to shower gratuitous insults on the faith of others, even if that faith is grounded in apparent irrationality. For reasons of sheer pragmatism, Indians have come to accept the virtues of restraint and self-censorship in matters governing religious beliefs. India has rightly presented the scientific temper with formidable no-go areas.” This is why, if asked, the average Indian may be ambivalent about what is illegal: the private exhibition in the FFA of paintings that are ‘provocative’ (though with no malicious intent) in their portrayal of religious icons, or the attack on the FFA by extremists from the Sangh Parivar.

The true test of free speech lies in protecting individuals in the academic and artistic community, whose work is often in the public domain, so that they express themselves freely and without fear. Self-censorship cannot be allowed to become the default option, however acceptable it may have become to most Indians with regard to religion as Dasgupta states. That is precisely what those with fascist leanings hope will result. They take advantage of this discretion in ‘giving offence’, and politicize every instance of ‘offence being given’. This kind of ‘Talibanization’ is like a cancer: its gross effects won’t be felt early, but if unchecked, it can become relentless in its march to infiltrate and overwhelm the body politic.