The Free Voice

by Ravish Kumar

  Essential to the idea of democracy is an understanding of being the people and staking our claim to democracy. However, when people’s consciousness transforms into people’s fear, they become mere servants. In a democracy, the people come first in all senses; the system is meant to serve them, be answerable to them. What the powers that be are seeking to do is to invert that order so that the system dominates us. Their ultimate aim is to ensure that we swallow any mumbo-jumbo they direct at us. Their aim is perpetual, untrammeled power.

  To this end they are engaged in unnerving us with acrimonious debates day after day so that our daily diet of bellicose TV makes us wonder if there is an all-out war between communities out there, which leads to a deepening mutual suspicion and rancour in society. It also homogenizes society, forces everyone into the same mould, so anyone who is different—who dresses a little differently, has a different diet, raises a different slogan, worships a different god—is marked. And so we are silenced.

  To prevent anybody from speaking is a form of terrorism, too. To create an atmosphere of fear and suspicion is also a form of terrorism.

  In recent times a new trend has emerged among citizens. Putting their unqualified trust in the leader they submerge themselves and their aspirations in him completely. This is not a good thing. When a voter merges in the leader, he is no longer the people, or even a voter. He is merely the dust swept up by a windstorm.

  The power that resides in the people must not be frittered away. Be a film star’s fan, or cricketer’s, but never be a politician’s fan. Respect him, but don’t be so hypnotized by his words that you forget to evaluate his work and hold him to the promises he makes. You did not elect him or her to make stunning speeches. Your mandate was for social and economic well-being. Your loyalty, on a personal level, can be towards any leader and any political party. There is also no problem at all if you are a party worker. But as long as you consider yourself a citizen of the country, your conduct should be that of a citizen’s. The task of demanding answers, with impartiality and without prejudice, is yours, and overrides any obligation to an organization. If you behave like the agent of a political party or a religious or cultural organization, you will destroy this democracy. It is your responsibility that after you vote a party into power, you step back and become impartial once more. If you think something is right, and good, call it so; and if something is wrong, call it wrong, too.

  We are already suffering the consequences that follow the erosion of our status as citizens, for which we, too, must share the blame. We are living in a perpetual state of uncertainty, wondering about the safe limits within which we can air our differences with authority, without ‘becoming’ or being branded a dissenter. It has become a pattern that the person one is talking to is invariably at pains to clarify, no, I am not a dissenter. My response to that is, so what if you are? I understand if you say you are not krodhi (resentful), I respect that, but why feel ashamed of calling yourself a virodhi (dissenter)? Is it written anywhere in our shastras that having an opposing point of view is prohibited? Truth be told, if you say you are not an objector, you are ranged against democracy. If you have a different point of view, say you are a dissenter. Post ten things on Facebook daily and say openly, ‘Yes, I have a difference of opinion.’ Being an objector is no crime.

  If we are not vigilant about our rights in a democracy, it does not matter how much Bournvita and Chyavanprash we consume. It is time to stop looking for all sorts of excuses for our ‘lack of strength’, or powerlessness, and face the reality that this enfeeblement of citizens has come about because we have abandoned dissent and turned to supplication. There’s a world of difference between the two. The process of supplication is quite similar to the act of propitiation typical of a bhakt, a devotee—the gods are angry, they need to be placated; they are bound to hear us eventually, all we have to do is draw their attention towards us.

  Take the trader-business fraternity of Surat which kept up its demonstrations against demonetization and GST for almost six months in 2017, suffering considerable economic losses in the process. I observed them quite closely. Whenever and wherever they came out to demonstrate, their numbers were impressive. However, and this is the interesting bit, instead of protesting, they were adopting a posture of entreaty. The Surat traders were putting forward their demands as devotees sing Sai bhajans, in full rhyme. Nowhere were any slogans raised. Cries of ‘zindabad’, ‘murdabad’, ‘ho barbaad’ are so commonplace in a democracy that they are hurled at politicians all the time, without a moment’s hesitation. But no such slogans were heard in the markets and streets of Surat. Only the number of bodies suggested there was a kind of protest going on. When we no longer remain the people, we are reduced to being just numbers. The movement had no impact whatsoever.

  The way the traders saw it, their movement failed because the Union finance minister did not pay heed to their demands. In reality, their inability to see themselves as citizens was the sole reason for their campaign’s failure.

  Some time ago in Delhi I received a phone call from a lady who told me that alarmed by the rising levels of pollution in the city she had been spurred into action. Now she wanted me to highlight the issue of pollution in my show and mention her work as well. She was convinced that if ten or fifteen television news channels highlighted her endeavour, which involved school children as well, it would have an impact. I pointed out to her that the serious problem of pollution was receiving steady coverage already. If her efforts were not having the desired impact, she needed to re-examine her approach. The lady thought I was a pessimist. I urged her to continue her efforts and never give up, to which she said, ‘We are protesting so hard. All I want is to draw the attention of the prime minister.’

  So there it was again—entreaty; supplication. Sing bhajans at the supreme leader’s door till he turns his attention to you, if at all, and deigns to solve your problem, if he can at all. Approach the prime minister as a citizen, I wanted to tell her. If it is a bhakt you want to be, there is an elaborate system of crores of gods and goddesses in the Hindu religion. If perchance you are unable to locate the nearest deity, worship a tree. Hinduism can be liberal that way.

  Finally, I wrote the lady a letter:

  What you are doing is neither inadequate nor wrong. In fact, you are doing more than your share. Not just you, many people who are worked up about various issues are engaged in similar efforts. Their questions are valid too, for they are about life and death issues. But none of these efforts is having any impact. The list of unproductive movements by citizens is becoming longer by the day and even if several more were to be added to this list it would make no difference to the system or ministers or the government. In a couple of instances, they may even agree to some demands, but after a point no progress is ever made. For the last four years Delhi has been in the grip of a serious health hazard—from small children to the elderly, everyone is at risk and their lungs are getting damaged. This is an issue by itself; it does not have to be made into one.

  Ma’am, all this is happening because the real power of ‘the people’ is no longer yours. If as a fan or blind supporter you—like so many others—have unreservedly put your entire trust in a leader after the election, then you are no longer the citizen of a democracy. When you forsake that mantle to don the mask of the leader, sport his tattoo on your cheek, merge in him and become his reflection, the power you wield as the people goes. This is why you, and others, find it difficult to understand why your efforts are not making any headway whatsoever—in the last four or five years Delhi’s air quality has gone from bad to hazardous, yet no movement has made the slightest difference. The ideology and reflection of the leader is lodged within you and as long as you don’t make any efforts to separate yourself from that persona, you will not become part of the people. That is why you are not being able to grasp the reason for your lack of impact.

  Farmers face bullets, they hang themselves—does it affect you? Every day in every state farme
rs are facing ruin—has it roused you to action? College after college is devoid of teachers—do you really care? When we as the people do not support our own, do not care about their problems, how will our words about anything have any impact? Just as you were silent in someone’s hour of need, so someone is silent in your time of need. Therefore, I say, exercise your right to speak out. If others speak for their rights, add your voice to theirs. You become the people only when you speak out and express solidarity. Whenever others raise their voice, encourage them. Even if you do not always agree with their endeavour, support them to the extent that they are able to speak and others are able to hear them out.

  Each one of us is fighting a lone battle today. It is proving difficult to extend any struggle beyond a certain limit. Citizens are betraying fellow citizens. As for the system, deviousness is an inherent part of its make-up. And by not assuming the status of the people we are just making its task easier. What is novel is the way in which the system is pinning you down in a Hindu-Muslim framework. Pehlu Khan, Akhlaq and Junaid, who were killed, were not Muslims; they were citizens. In Kerala, when RSS workers are killed and CPM workers are killed in retaliation, and vice versa, those who die are not Hindus or Communists but citizens. Therefore, speak out; support your fellow citizens. Any extreme manifestation of politics thrives on division and distrust in society, it ultimately diminishes the citizens, depriving them of the essence and consciousness of being the people.

  It is for these reasons I say, ma’am, your effort is honest but ineffective.

  Sure enough, Delhi’s media soon shifted its focus to the issue of Rani Padmavati, who may or may not have existed, and a film made on her story. Gasping five- and eighty-five-year-olds were forgotten. It was back to manufacturing history, demonizing the Muslim and celebrating Hindu valour, for which women must burn.

  The Hindu-Muslim framework has become the sole benchmark for any and every issue. Bogus nationalism is another. These frameworks have become so entrenched that it is not going to be an easy task to extricate ourselves from them; we will have to work very hard at it. We think being the people in a democracy is a breeze. On the contrary, it takes more hard work than is required to get through an IIT entrance exam. We do not become the people so easily or for free. The manner in which our youth are being seduced into a life of materialistic enslavement, they will be reduced to being mere cogs in the system for the next twenty to twenty-five years. Perhaps fifty. They will not be the people any more. India will not be a democracy.

  Power has a hundred ways to terrorize people. The easiest way is to slap a case of sedition against you, or to arrest you for saying, writing or—increasingly now—sharing anything deemed ‘objectionable’. This is happening across India, in state after state. It has become an epidemic since the present government came to power, but the trend is neither new, nor exclusive to the BJP. Duly elected governments have been making the ordinary citizen defenceless for some years now, from Tamil Nadu to Uttar Pradesh. First they pit the crowd against you, then the police and lawyers, and finally they show you the door that opens into a prison.

  During the freedom struggle one of Gandhiji’s biggest contributions was to wipe away the fear of British prisons from the minds of the weakest Indians. To keep the fear of prison alive, the British constructed the Cellular Jail in the Andaman’s—Kaala Paani, the terrible prison in the black waters. But Gandhi had so ended the fear of prisons that people were not intimidated, and went there too. Some of them apologized to the British authorities, pleading to be released, but I won’t dismiss their claim to being revolutionaries. Prisons are like that—they can break your spirit. Our governments today know this well.

  Therefore, I say, just as there is a provision of anticipatory bail, there should be a provision of anticipatory jail. Then one can voluntarily petition the court: ‘My lords, since I have an apprehension, and summer vacations are round the corner, I would like to spend the next two months in jail. Later, if the government foists a false case upon me, please subtract the duration already spent in jail from the term given.’

  Till now many of us have abstained from speaking out because we are afraid it could land us in prison. How about starting a campaign: ‘On such and such date we would like to go to prison, just like that. Let us all pack our lunch-boxes with a couple of dry paranthas to last us a couple of days each and spend two or three days in jail so that the fear of false cases and prison terms entrenched in society is uprooted. Down with fear!’

  If we consider ourselves followers of Gandhi, we must ask for the introduction of a provision of anticipatory jail so that we liberate ourselves from the yoke of fear.

  Is my suggestion too radical? Am I losing my bearings? If you think I am, let me share with you just a short list of cases. It might seem a bit boring but bear with me. You will remember most of these cases, you will have heard of them, but reading them together is instructive. It puts things in perspective.

  In April 2012, a professor was arrested in West Bengal because he posted a cartoon that critiqued the chief minister, Mamata Banerjee.

  In May 2012, two Air India employees were arrested for objectionable posts against the then prime minister Manmohan Singh.

  In November 2012, two girls, Shaheen and Renu, were arrested for their posts on social media questioning the way Mumbai was brought to a standstill on the day of Shiv Sena chief Bal Thackeray’s funeral.

  In May 2014, a man was booked in Goa for posting a Facebook comment critical of the newly elected prime minister, Narendra Modi. (The charge against him: ‘promoting communal and social disharmony’. Politicians and television news anchors who do exactly this day in and day out are never booked or interrogated.)

  In March 2015, a student of Class XI was arrested in UP for commenting against Azam Khan, a senior leader of the Samajwadi Party which was in power at the time.

  In November 2016, a nineteen-year-old RTI activist was arrested in Madhya Pradesh for a post criticizing the prime minister and the state’s chief minister for demonetization.

  In March 2017, seven people were arrested in UP, within hours of Yogi Adityanath’s swearing in as chief minister, for ‘objectionable’ posts about him.

  In May, 2017, Karnataka police arrested two youths for putting up a post with a morphed picture of PM Modi which, according to the complainant—no relation of the PM himself—made him look ‘obscene and ugly’. (Soon after this, the administration in far-off Varanasi, the prime minister’s constituency, issued a notice that sharing rumours or falsehoods would be arrested. The falsehoods about India’s first prime minister, Nehru, have resulted in no arrests. Not long ago, Amit Malviya, of the BJP’s IT cell, posted a tweet about Nehru hugging several women. Since when has hugging a woman become a bad thing? It turned out that one of the women was Nehru’s sister, the other his niece.)

  In October 2017, cases were filed against twenty-two businessmen in Kanpur, of whom one was arrested. Their crime: putting the image of their prime minister alongside that of North Korea’s supposedly lunatic Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un.

  In October 2017, a fan of the Tamil film star Vijay was arrested for making ‘derogatory comments’ against PM Modi.

  In October 2017, again, eighteen-year-old Zakir Ali Tyagi was imprisoned in UP for forty-two days, alongside hardened criminals, for a Facebook post where he made light of a court order that had declared the Ganga a ‘legal entity’ and called the BJP government’s promise to build a Ram mandir a gimmick.

  This is only a short list. In the course of their political careers, politicians face a great deal of criticism. Their opponents denigrate them to their face, not even behind their backs, and in the choicest of language. They don’t arrest one another for these insults. Invariably, it is someone from among us that the police come for.

  As per my count, from 2014 till late 2017, forty-two citizens had either been arrested or had cases filed against them for making objectionable remarks about the prime minister or any BJP chief minister or leade
r. The number of Muslims was the highest, but there were Hindus on the list, too, and Sikhs and Christians. Every one of them was a citizen. That is what we need to understand.

  The process of being democratic requires great courage. It requires constant practice. Duck ‘net practice’ for a day and your ability to be democratic will be diminished. And in the new India, there are many distractions that keep us away from this necessary practice.

  From the time privatization gathered pace in India, leading to a corporate culture, people from the corporate world have almost completely disappeared from democratic participation. There are very few exceptions. Scarcely anybody ventures out of his or her firm. It’s as if anybody who enters the corporate world is out of the democratic set-up, leading a lifestyle that prompts him or her to value democracy less and less. They start imagining India can only be saved by a dictatorship—naturally, a market-friendly dictatorship.

  Although privatization was presented as the answer to many of democracy’s ills, it has enfeebled the very idea of democracy. The corporate world has not provided a fillip to democratic participation because it has formed a nexus with the political class, and they are working together against the interests of the people. The political system enervates citizens at one end and the corporates keep citizens away from actively participating in democracy at the other end. Then together they can do as they please—acquire land here, raze a mountain there, create a situation where farmers are driven to digging holes and standing in them for weeks to demand a fair price for their land, but to no avail.