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Radical Notes

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Archive for April, 2008

Ban on People’s March: An Affront to the Right to Free Expression

Gilbert Sebastian

On 19 December 2007, P. Govindan Kutty, the editor of Peoples’ March, an English magazine sympathetic to the Maoist movement was picked up by the Kerala police under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, 1967. Govindan Kutty was on a long hunger strike in the jail and was released on bail on 24 February 2008. However, the government’s real intention was seen through in the act of imposing a ban on the Peoples March through an order of the District Magistrate of Ernakulam by the time he was released.

Similarly, Prafulla Jha, president of PUCL in Chhattisgarh; Pittala Srisailam, editor of online television Musi TV and co-convener of Telangana Journalists Forum (TJF); and Lachit Bordoloi, secretary general of the human rights organisation, Manab Adhikar Sangram Samiti (MASS) and freelance journalist from Assam were arrested in the months of December 2007 and January 2008. All of them were journalists/human rights activists. Except Bordoloi, with alleged sympathies to the United Liberation Front of Asom (ULFA), the other three were supposed to be sympathetic to the Maoist movement. These arrests may be seen in conjunction with the statement on 20 December 2007 by the Prime Minister Manmohan Singh that “Leftwing extremism is probably the single biggest security challenge to the Indian State” and his vow to ‘eliminate this “virus”’. (See a report on these arrests, dated 22 March 2008 in Tehelka magazine). As someone had insightfully pointed out, it is the paradox of Indian democracy that criminals and mass murderers are lodged in parliament and assemblies while those who stand with the people are hunted out and put behind bars (Srinivas Chava).

Are we to believe that Peoples March was banned mainly to cover up the gross atrocities such as of a State-sponsored militia like the Salwa Judum in Chhattisgarh? Peoples March has been a rare source of information on the violence and mayhem unleashed by the ‘Salwa Judum’, the Indian State’s dirty war against its own people which according to an independent estimate has resulted in 548 murders, 99 rapes and 3000 incidents of burning houses. (Read, Shubranshu Choudhary 2007: “The state’s purification hunt”, Himal Southasian, vol. 20, no. 12, December, pp. 40-42). People’s March has been an extraordinary publication, the voice of the most important stream of Indian revolution, in its own words. As Prof. Manoranjan Mohanty puts it, “Democratic space for discussion on people’s struggles must be defended.”

The ban is a clear violation of Article 19a, the right to freedom of expression, a fundamental right. Where is the legitimacy of a ‘liberal’ State that does not adhere to the Constitution it swears by? In fact, the ideas in Peoples March are not communal, casteist, or creating any other undesirable division among sections of the population that a ban was warranted against it. (And in this respect, Peoples March has been unlike many other publications in India that are still not banned.) The ideas in Peoples March have been based on the universalistic notions of class struggle. Does it now sound like a joke that the preamble of the Indian Constitution itself says that India is a “sovereign socialist secular democratic republic”?

The ban order of the DM of Ernakulam charges that the ideas in Peoples March bring about “contempt and create disaffection against the Government of India”. Since the neo-liberal State in India is ostensibly anti-people, it is no wonder if this be the case. Espousing the cause of the peoples of Kashmir and the north-east of the country is seen as “hosting anti national contents” (the cited ground on which the web pages of People’s March were blocked earlier). Shouldn’t the government better realise that by banning the expression of certain ideas, they do not cease to be so long as the material bases for these ideas continue to be? That the mainstream media organisations in the country have been rather quiet on these arrests and the subsequent ban on People’s March, exposes their illiberal attitude and complicity. Addressing student dissenters, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh himself had cited Voltaire in a speech by him in JNU on 14 Nov. 2005: “I may disagree with what you have to say, but I shall defend, to the death, your right to say it.” Where are liberal supporters of Voltaire now?

The Politics of Arundhati’s ‘Genocide Affirmation’

Depicting Mao as the Author of the Biggest Political Genocide?

Gilbert Sebastian

Arundhati Roy’s article, “Listening to Grasshoppers: Genocide, Denial and Celebration” (Outlook 4 February 2008) might have, by now, lost its news-value but we hope, the concerns raised should have abiding interest.

Her analysis in a powerful style on the project of ‘union and progress’, the majoritarian quest for an expanded lebensraum (living space), we believe, is much closer to reality than the standard media reporting and academic analyses that seek to skirt a stark depiction of ‘the unthinkable’, trying to present “a more ‘balanced’ happier world” (58). The article was timely in the context of the emergence of Narendra Modi himself as the projected future fuehrer of the Hindutva movement in India.

It has not been really helpful analytically to say, “It’s an old human habit, genocide is.” (52). The increasing incidences of genocides in the era of imperialism (capitalism in its oligopolist stage) needs to be taken note of. The processes of identity formation - cultural construction and demonisation of ‘the Other’ as an object of hatred, perhaps has been an old habit, across different stages of development of human society.

In the case of the Hindutva movement in India, its relationship to neo-liberal globalisation needs to be recognised. Why have the greatest mass murders in India of recent times - the riots following the December 1992 demolition of Babri Masjid and the Gujarat carnage in early 2002 coincided with the neo-liberal reforms initiated since 1991? How the majoritarian Hindutva nationalism complements the project of accumulation of the Indian and global, swadeshi and videshi dominant classes is a question that needs closer scrutiny. A substantial segment of the dominant classes have recognised Hindutva as a viable integrationist principle for articulating the pan-Indian big nation chauvinism. They would take recourse to a Hindutva hardline when their crisis is at its deepest.

Apart from these little reflections based on Arundhati’s article, the most important point we would like to raise here is that having read the article by Arundhati, one is struck by a deep sense of remorse, not because of any inherent impulse at genocide denial but by her very foreclosure of political alternatives or the absence of mention of any collective human agency that could take us beyond the cynical state of the present to a hopeful future of possibilities.

Can we pin our hopes on the ‘left’? Not, of course, on the left that is the left-over of the Nandigram carnage - if we go by the implications of Arundhati’s analysis; and of course, not on a movement with “the ghost of Chairman Mao himself” as its “helmsman”. Obviously because according to her, he has been the author of the biggest of the political genocides in history that she has mentioned. They are: “Suharto in Indonesia (1 million), Pol Pot in Cambodia (1.5 million), Stalin in the Soviet Union (60 million), Mao in China (70 million)” (52). In a cavalier manner, she provides no further explanation of where she got these figures from, as though these were self-evident truths.

It was easier to find many skulls and skeletons in the Soviet Union after the great anti-fascist war. Moreover, the Stalinist line of crushing internal dissent is well-acknowledged. This has, however, not been the case in Maoist China and no one until recently said it so. Arundhati surpasses the figure of 30 million who according to Amartya Sen had perished in China during the Great Leap Forward of 1958-61, the agricultural collectivisation drive that happened to coincide with a drought. This itself is a keenly debated claim. (Joan Hinton who was young and active in China during these years had told me in 1996 that she had come across cases of malnutrition and not deaths there during this period.) Whether particular social/political processes can be blamed on an individual leaderships also remains a question besides. Notably, when ‘the Chinese people stood up’, it was not their great achievements in poverty alleviation and agricultural growth within a brief span of time that attracted the attention of Amartya or Arundhati but a famine/genocide. Arundhati cannot be accused of ‘genocide denial’ but its very opposite - ‘genocide affirmation’. Can genocide affirmation have its politics as well? Placating liberal opinion? It may also be recalled that even as the excesses and deviations by the Communist Party of Kampuchea are infamous, the skulls displayed on visual media as having been the victims of Pol Pot’s atrocities had, on scientific examination, turned out to be not even Kampuchean skulls and did not correspond to the period of the alleged genocide.

Condescendingly does Arundhati grant some autonomy of agency to the Indian “footsoldiers” following Mao: “The ray of hope is that many of the footsoldiers don’t know who he is. Or what he did.” (60). Mao Zedong taught us the greatest of the truths of Marxism, ‘It is right to rebel’. But can and should rebellion be equated to genocide? Millions of people look up to Mao as their guiding light for revolutions in countries under the yoke of both imperialism and pre-capitalist social relations. It, therefore, becomes a pressing need for all opponents of revolution to slur the image of Mao and if possible, demonise him. And they rest assure that the corporate Communist regime in China today is not going to bring out authentic historical facts to defend Mao.

In her well-known article on displacement through big dams, “The Greater Common Good”, Arundhati had likewise criticised Mao for initiating big dams. Although it is well accepted today that big dams are environmentally hazardous - and we do need to reject Mao in this respect - mainstream environmental consciousness on this count, as far as we know, was non-existent in Maoist China. It may be recalled that mainstream environmental consciousness even in the West had its origins only in early 1960s, probably, with Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring (1962) which recounted the horrors of the use of pesticides. In any case, China’s record of rehabilitating the displaced people presents a happy contrast to the dubious distinction India has earned in this respect.

It is sad that Arundhati, with her pro-people orientation, should figure among the antagonists of Mao. A reading of Mao’s writing, ‘On Contradiction’ (to cite only one), itself can be an evidence of what he stood for. We would like to cite this one because this is against the very grain of identity-based antagonisms among sections of the masses promoted by those in positions of power and privilege that have even culminated in genocides. Mao Zedong’s golden words during the Cultural Revolution, ‘Never forget class struggle’ will continue to ring in our ears’.

Gilbert Sebastian can be reached at: gilbert.s@rediffmail.com