By Eric Vandenbroeck and
co-workers
The Vishwa Hindu Parishad
Members of the RSS
(the parent organization of Vishwa Hindu Parishad) and prominent Hindu thinkers
in India and abroad were reportedly invited to Mumbai (then Bombay) in India in
August 1964. According to published reports, it was decided at the meeting that
a new organization by the name of Vishwa Hindu Parishad would be formed and
launched two years later, in 1966, at a world convention of Hindus.
Soon after its
inception, the VHP turned its focus on the Ramjanmbhoomi
(birthplace of Lord Ram) issue in Ayodhya, India. Hindu extremists allege that
the place where Babri mosque is built in Ayodhya, in the western state of Uttar
Pradesh, is the birthplace of Lord Ram (a revered Hindu God). Hindu
fundamentalists, including the VHP, have been propagating the notion that the
Babri mosque be "replaced" by a Hindu temple of Ram at the disputed
site.
Thus the BJP is
associated with a network of organisations, often
referred collectively as the Sangh Parivar (Family of Associations).' In this
sense, the successful maintenance of a coalition led by an explicitly religious
nationalist political party has a direct bearing on the literature on coalition
formation and maintenance.
The Sangh Parivar,
includes three frontline groups, the Rashtriya
Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS, National Organisation of
Volunteers), the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP, World Hindu Council), and an
associated student organisation called the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP, All India Student's
Council). The Hindu nationalist agenda is also pushed forth by ancillary organisations that are not commonly associated with religios fundamentalist groups, such as labour
unions, think tanks or rural development organisations.
For instance, the Sangh Parivar includes a very prominent trade union, the Bharatiya Mazdoor Sangh (BMS, Indian Workers Union), which
at times has been active in voicing its opposition to foreign economic
linkages. Likewise, RSS affiliates such as the Seva Vibhag
(SV, Service Department), the Bharat Vikas Parishad (BVP) and the Vanvasi Kalyan Ashram (VKA) are nongovernmental organisations that have been active in working with India's
tribal communities. Finally, the Vidhya Bhararti (VB,
Indian Enlightenment) are a network of schools. The Deendayal Research
Institute (DRI) has undertaken research work on rural development.
The failure of the
BJP Government in Gujarat and the leadership in New Delhi to take decisive
action against rioters can be seen to have been a key factor in the escalation
of communal violence in that state. This was a clear violation of the manifesto
commitment of the NDA, yet there was only muted protest from the coalition
partners of the BJP. While the TDP leader, Chandrababu Naidu, called for the
removal of the Gujarat Chief Minister Narendra Modi, and Mamata Banerjee
boycotted a meeting of the NDA Co-ordination Committee, there was only one
resignation from government over the issue (Ram Vilas Paswan UD ). A censure
motion in the Lok Sabha on the Government's handling of the Gujarat massacres
was comfortably defeated (276 votes to 182), despite the abstention of the TDP.
The explanation appears to be grounded in perceptions of the electoral impact
at the state level. First, in Gujarat the BJP fought against the INC on its
own, and so the Gujarat massacres did not recast the nature of party competition.
Second, the electoral resonance of the events was unclear, and there appeared
to be no significant backlash against the BJP. Indeed, the state assembly
elections that followed the massacres saw the BJP government returned to power
in Gujarat, and the 2004 national elections saw little evidence that the events
led to a national vote swing against the BJP (A. Datar,`A
vote for secular politics', The Hindu, 20 May, 2004: AE-2).
The 2004 general
election showed the continuing success of parties organised
on a purely regional basis. The importance of such parties, measured by their
ability to win seats in the national parliament, means that neither the BJP nor
the INC could hope to form a government without the co-operation of regional
parties. From alliance building, to government formation, and portfolio
allocation, the role of state-focussed partners
continues to play a major part in the democratic government of India. This
influence leads to outcomes which are contrary to some of the basic
expectations of coalition theory. While a minimal winning coalition may be an
optimal outcome, this is subject to satisfying the demands of alliance
partners, and the high price that can be exacted by a coalition member holding
a pivotal position. This can lead to the construction of larger-than-minimal
coalitions to support a government in Parliament. The endurance of a coalition
is largely determined by the state-level context; with partnerships based on a
common interest within competitive state-wide party systems. Coalition partners
ability, or even desire, to affect national politics, are largely dependent on
the perceived impact on particular states. The ability to distribute benefits
and direct national policy through control of the government in New Delhi plays
a subsidiary role, evinced by the reluctance of some parties to accept
ministerial posts and simply support from `outside'. This leads to a situation
where the coalition supporting the government is oversized, but the sub-set of
this coalition actually taking ministerial offices (and the other direct perks
of central government) is often smaller than the minimal size.
The NDA Government
from 1999 to 2004, was the first national coalition government in India to
complete a full, five-year term in office. The very stability of the NDA
Government, with the BJP core surrounded by numerous state-based parties, was
remarkable in itself. Part of the explanation was the experience gained from
earlier failed attempts at coalition management and the conciliatory leadership
of Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee. A more powerful reason, however, was
the effect of the pragmatic electoral alliances that provided an element of
common interest between the BJP and its coalition partners. The segmented
nature of the electoral arena meant that some parties were situated within the
coalition, while others were content to support from `outside' , and parties
such as the Trinamul Congress moved between these positions. Portfolio
allocation and policy direction were determined by the balance between the
broad interests of the BJP and the state-specific interests of coalition
partners. This balance fluctuated according to the cycle of national and state
elections. While coalition partners were able to exercise some influence over
national policies, this did not extend to holding the BJP to account for its
failure to prevent the Gujarat massacres of 2002; the most flagrant violation
of the conciliatory manifesto which was supposed to provide a common policy
platform.
The nineteenth
century witnessed the rapid development of modern Hinduism. Various
modern-style organisations, established and run
largely by middle class Hindus, were influential in this process. They
contributed to the emergence of the idea of Hinduism as an objective
phenomenon, comparable to other, similar phenomena (the `world's religions').
It is widely understood that such organisations, and
their ideas about Hinduism as an objective phenomenon, developed as a form of
cultural resistance to colonial rule. Swami Vivekananda, for example, was the
leader of the innovative Ramakrishna Math and Mission. In 1893, he spoke in
Chicago at the self-styled `World Parliament of Religions'. There he explained
how India's spiritual traditions could provide salvation to the Western world,
which had become manifestly alienated and debased because of the extent of
capitalist development. Vivekananda spoke as a representative of Hinduism. In
common with many others at this time, he implicitly invoked the idea of Hinduism
as a concrete reality, even if the parameters - the shape - of that reality
were by no means a settled fact. Indeed, debates over the shape of the religion
during this period were themselves a powerful force in the invocation of
objectified Hinduism (Zavos The Emergence of Hindu Nationalism in India, New
Delhi: Oxford University Press. 2000).
Vivekananda's stance
at Chicago is indicative of what Partha Chatterjee (The Nation and its
Fragments: Colonial and Post-colonial Histories, Princeton: Princeton
University Press,1993: 6) sees as a conceptualisation
of two `domains' by indigenous thinkers during this period: the `outer' domain
of materialism - economy, statecraft, science and technology - which was
dominated by the West; and the `inner' domain of the spirit - the home, the
family and religion - in which India maintained a superior status. This
recognition of spiritual superiority, exemplified by Vivekananda, was critical
to the development of nationalist consciousness in India. It provided a key
stimulus to the emergence of national identity, and thus ensured that Hinduism
had a major role in the fashioning of this identity.
The key political organisation of Indian nationalism, the INC, was convened
in 1885, somewhat against the grain of these developments in cultural
consciousness. In its first few years it was dominated by an approach which
sought to capture the air of an official opposition to the colonial government.
Its statements were couched in a quasi-parliamentary language and it directed
its attention towards the state, despite its rather weak claim to represent the
`Indian people'. Almost immediately, this approach to nationalism was
challenged by competing voices among the indigenous elite, as well as by
non-elite groups who questioned the right of elites to represent `the people'.
In these dialogues, Hindu symbols and Hindu events were invoked and reinvented
as part of the cultural repertoire of emerging nationalism. Very quickly, the
culture of quasi-parliamentarianism associated with the early Congress became
one among many voices feeding into the national movement, and as a result, the
Congress movement emerged in the twentieth century as a very broad
umbrella-type organisation, accommodating a variety
of different views of the nation.
In such contexts, the
notion that Hindu nationalism and Indian nationalism formed two distinct
ideologies had little meaning. Despite the emergence of the Hindu Sabha
movement in the early twentieth century in north and northwest India, the lines
of opposition between Hindu nationalism and Congress nationalism remained only
very vaguely drawn. The evidence suggests that there was a constant blending
and borrowing of ideas. This was demonstrated graphically by the fact that many
prominent figures in the INC and the Indian national movement more generally
were also involved in the developing Sabha movement. For instance, Punjabis
Lala Lajpat Rai and Swami Shraddhanand were important
figures in both movements, as well as being prominent Arya Samajists.
B.S. Moonje was involved both in the INC and the
emerging Hindu nationalist movement in Nagpur.
Perhaps the most
famous of these `crossover' figures was V.D. Savarkar, the President of the
Hindu Mahasabha between 1937 and 1943. In earlier years, Savarkar (The Indian
War of Independence 1857, Bombay: Phoenix. 1947) had written a significant
Indian nationalist text about the 1857 rebellion against the British. He had
also been transported for life to the penal colony of the Andaman Islands in
1910 for his part in a conspiracy to assassinate two British officials. In the
classically heroic Indian nationalist context of this incarceration, Savarkar
was to produce what was to become a seminal text of Hindu nationalism:
Hindutva/Who is a Hindu? (1989). This short but rather verbose text presented
the `Hindu race' as a strong, martial people, who had been struggling for a
thousand years or more with various foreign invaders from the north and west.
Hindutva/Who is a
Hindu was first published in 1923. In the early 1920s, both nationalist' mobilisation and communal violence were intensifying. As
the profile of communalism as a political issue expanded, a strain of militant
secularism became increasingly prominent within the Congress-led nationalist
movement. In this view, national liberation was characterised
in the classic liberal democratic sense, namely through the creation of a
nation-state governed by the rule of law, in which issues of culture and
religion would be ushered into the private sphere (Pandey The Construction of
Communalism in Colonial North India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. 1990:
Ch. 7).
The secular tendency
never eroded the different approaches to nationalism which were extant under
the broad umbrella of the INC, but it 0 sustained as a kind of hegemonic
rhetoric within the organisation. During the final
years of British colonial rule in India, the predominance of this rhetoric
enhanced the sense of difference between Congress nationalism and Hindu
nationalism as represented by the Mahasabha and other organisations.
In addition, since the rhetoric of secularism was developed in contradistinction
to communalism, Congress politicians increasingly represented Hindu nationalist
ideology as a form of communal ideology.
By emphasising these developments, my intention is to provide
perspective on the developing structure of political alignments in the
post-independence period. Hindu nationalism became situated as a communal
ideology, in contrast to Congress nationalism, in a manner that marginalised the dialogue, the interaction and blending of
these areas of thought about Indian politics and culture. Hindu nationalism
developed into a kind of trope, which acted to define or affirm the
non-communal credentials of the INC, a position which was only emphasised by the traumas of partition and the
assassination of Gandhi. This process has done much to obscure the embeddedness
of Hindu nationalism in developing ideas about Indian culture and social
relations among political elites. Recognising the
shapes of Hindu nationalism, then, means looking beyond the discourse of
communalism and acknowledging the network of contexts in which key ideas
emerged.
As noted above,
Savarkar's text Hindutva/Who is a Hindu was to emerge as a significant
articulation of Hindu nationalist thought. Other key texts have been the
writings of Deendayal Upadhyaya and the work of M.S. Golwalkar, especially his
two books Bunch of Thoughts (1966) and We, or Our Nationhood Defined (1944).2
Together, these sources provide us with insight into some component elements in
Hindu nationalist thought, but one thing we should emphasise
is this: they do not form a coherent body of work or the consciously
progressive development of an ideological position. Perhaps this is best
illustrated by the fact that although Savarkar is often described as `the
ideological father of Hindu nationalism' and Hindutva/Who is a Hindu as `the
classic text of Hindu nationalism' (Varshney 2002: 65), one will not generally
find this book in Sangh Parivarbookshops in India,
nor will one find reference to Savarkar on major Sangh websites.3 This is
principally because Savarkar was never a member of the RSS, and therefore
cannot, in that organisation's version of history, be
portrayed as too central to the development of Hindu nationalism. But it also
reiterates the fractured quality of this set of ideas, its existence as a broad
field of thought, interacting with other fields of thought, rather than as a
clear ideological programme. In this section, I want
to unpack some of the themes that might help us to identify the parameters of
this field of thought. In doing so, the issue of interaction will
be emphasised; although it is hoped that
acknowledging this interaction will help us to identify a distinctive profile
for Hindu nationalist thought.
(i) Who is a Hindu? The
formulas of nationhood
This question, which
forms part of the title of Savarkar's 1923 work, is at the heart of ideas of
Hindu nationalism. It is a question that may be related directly to those
processes of objectification we have noted above associated with the
development of Hinduism. Indeed, the difficulties experienced by elites in the
late nineteenth and early twentieth century in conceptualising
Hinduism as a religion, and the tensions that subsequently emerged, were highly
influential in the development of major lines of Hindu nationalist thought.
This is because these were, in the absence of any theological coherence,
debates about the parameters of Hinduism as a social phenomenon. Where one drew
the boundaries of Hinduism and how its shape was articulated, formed key underlying
questions in the contest over whether and how the religion needed to be
`reformed' or `regenerated'. Two broad patterns of response emerged: one which
sought to articulate the idea of Hinduism through the restructuring of society,
as exemplified by some elements within the Arya Samaj; and one which sought to
articulate the idea of Hinduism through the consolidation of the existing
structures of society, emphasising the `organic'
unity of the component parts.
Savarkar answers his
own question by emphasising and extending the latter
response. Hindutva/Who is a Hindu? constructs a notion of Hindu nationality
that is catholic, embracing a broad range of religious and cultural systems.
This catholicity is characteristic of the spiritual, universalist approach to
Hinduism and Hindu culture developed in the nineteenth century by figures such
as Vivekananda. At the same time, however, Savarkar's notion works obsessively
on the boundaries of this range, producing some formulaic models through which
an individual or a group may be identified as Hindu or not. There is, for
example, the widely recognised formula of pitribhum-punyabhum (fatherland-holy land) (Savarkar
Hindutva/Who is a Hindu? Bombay: 1989: 111). Whoever can identify India as both
may be considered as Hindu. In consonance with this formula, he develops the
idea of rashtrayat=sanskriti
(nation-race-culture), as components of Hinduness
(Savarkar 1989: 116). Identification with the Hindu race and nation is encompassed
by the recognition of pitribhum; whereas
identification with culture is encompassed by the recognition of punyabhum. On this reckoning, Savarkar's key social
exclusions are of Muslims and Christians, in that they locate their holy land,
their cultural identity, outside India. This formulaic approach has proven to
be remarkably resilient, turning up in later Hindu nationalist works, although
not always attributed to Savarkar.
Golwalkar develops a
similar approach in We, Or Our Nationhood Defined. He developed a formula based
around what he terms the `famous five unities' (We or Our Nation Defined,
Nagpur: Bharat Prakashan 1944: 18) of territory,
race, religion, culture and language. These may be related to the Savarkian formula of pitribhum
(territory, race) - punyabhum (religion, culture,
language), and they follow the same pattern of emphasising
a broad, catholic approach to cultural and religious identity, while
identifying exclusions in a quite uncompromising manner. Golwalkar also
identifies Muslims and Christians as key exclusions, although he moves on to
encompass communists as anti-national or an `internal threat' (Golwalkar Bunch
of Thoughts, Bangalore: Vikram Prakashan 1966:
187ff.). This reflects a developing concern, in the immediate pre- and
post-Independence era, with the strength of the left in Indian politics.
The quality of
inclusion and exclusion formulas identifying Hinduness
forms the basis for a consistent area of Hindu nationalist action: resisting
conversion. The critical exclusions exemplified in the pitribhumpunyabhum
formula mean that conversion to Islam or Christianity amounts to a process of
'de-nationalisation'. Indeed, this term was used by
the RSS organiser, Kishore Kant, to describe the
activities of Christian missionaries in northeastern states during the 1990s
(The Asian Age 1998: 1 January). At the same time, there has always been
recognition of the vulnerability of certain groups to the `threat' of
conversion. These are principally low caste and tribal groups, those who exist
on the fuzzy margins of Hinduness - in a way that
Savarkar would have regarded as anathema - and who suffer oppression precisely
because of their status within Hindu society (Zavos Conversion and the
assertive margirts: an analysis of Hindu nationalist
discourse and the recent attacks on Indian Christians', South Asia, 24(2):73-89.
2001).
The success of
conversion campaigns among low caste or tribal groups, then, appears both as an
indication of the fragility of Hindu society, and a confirmation of fears about
the erosion of Hindu identity. As such, resisting conversion has always been a key
concern of Hindu nationalism because it operates as a means of affirming and
consolidating the idea of a broad notion of Hindu identity, on the basis of the
pitribhum-punyabhum and other associated formulas.
(ii) Hinduness - a question
of culture
In a rather
paradoxical fashion, we can see that as well as rationalising
exclusion, the formulaic approach is designed to encompass a broad range of
traditions, including such historically resistant traditions as Buddhism and
Jainism. Savarkar is able to do this because he begins with the idea that Hinduness - or Hindutva as he coins it - is not so much a
religious as a cultural signifier, based on an identified continuity of blood
in the Hindu `race'. `Hinduism,' he says, `is only a derivative, a fraction, a
part of Hindutva' (1989: 3). Through this distinction, Savarkar is able to go
on to construct a grand, catholic vision of Hindu identity as diverse, yet
unthreatened by that diversity. The diversity itself is perceived as
characteristic of Hindu culture.
As a model of
cultural development, we can relate this idea to some classic accounts of
Indian syncretism and tolerant, such as Jawaharlal Nehru's Discovery of India.
Nehru notes that `the mind of India' has been occupied for millennia by `some
kind of a dream of unity'. Within this idea of unity, he states that `the
widest tolerance of belief and custom was practiced and every variety
acknowledged and even encouraged' (1985: 62). Of course, Nehru is insistent on
embracing Muslim and Christian communities within this model, but the premise
of `unity in diversity' is similar to that of Savarkar. The latter's ideas
about Hindu culture, then, to a certain extent reflect a broader discourse
about the Indian nation.
Interestingly,
Golwalkar almost reverses Savarkar's formulation of the relationship between
Hinduism and Hinduness. He claims that culture is
`but a product of our all-comprehensive Religion, a part of its body and not
distinguishable from it' (1944: 22). This difference is partly explained by the
use of contrasting conceptions of religion. Savarkar works with a narrow
definition of religion, based on the idea of individual commitment and
spiritual fulfilment. Golwalkar works with a different kind of concept
altogether, a broad, all-encompassing concept, which provides a kind of
framework for belief, culture and social organisation.
Indeed, Golwalkar criticises the narrow conception of
religion in We or Our Nationhood Defined. It is possible that this critique is
aimed at Savarkar, the `secular Hindu'; certainly there is a reverse echo of
Savarkar's statement quoted above, when Golwalkar states that the individual
spiritual fulfilment view is `but a fractional part of Religion' (1944: 23).
Golwalkar's
conception of religion is rather as a broad framework, which `by regulating
society in all its functions, makes room for all individual idiosyncrasies, and
provides suitable ways and means for all sorts of mental frames to adapt, and
evolve' (1944: 23). Golwalkar, then, is equally able to encompass diversity in
the tradition, by broadening the idea of religion in the context of India and
articulating it as `the elastic framework of our dharma' (1966: 101). It is
this very elasticity, he goes on, which operates to `protect and maintain the
integrity of our people', as various sects had emerged to counter threats to
the framework; Sikhism, for example, `came into being to contain the spread of
Islam in Punjab' (1966: 103). This is highly reminiscent of Savarkar's idea of
diversity as a defining feature of Hindu culture.
Ultimately, both Savarkar
and Golwalkar produce approaches that attempt to resolite
the threat posed by doctrinal diversity and fragmentation within Hindu identity
by reference to `framework' ideas, which endorse this diversity as archetypal.
This approach, following Savarkar's articulation, has emerged in contemporary
Hindu nationalism as a valorisation of Hindu culture;
indeed, despite the tension noted between Savarkar and the Sangh Parivar, the
idea of Hindutva has been fully adopted and is used freely in Sangh literature
(although again, it is rarely attributed to Savarkar).
What, though, characterises this framework of Hindu culture or Hinduty*Both Savarkar and Golwalkar locate the idea of Hinduness by reference to history. Even taking into account
its diversity, Hinduness is rooted in Aryan civilisation and the establishment of the Vedic tradition.
According to Savarkar, there was a gradual expansion of Aryan influence,
leading eventually to the religious, cultural and political unification of the
subcontinent under Lord Ram (1989: 11-12).
These then followed
periods of relative Hindu and Buddhist ascendancy, which in turn were
superseded by the `human sahara' of Muslim incursion,
the beginning of a long period of struggle to maintain Hindu identity in the
face of `foreign invasion' (1989: 42-6). This interpretation of history was
based on some familiar elements of nineteenth- and twentieth-century Hindu worldviews.
The idea of the Vedic civilisation of the Aryans was
used as a reference point by a whole host of movements and individuals involved
in conceptualising Indian religion and society (e.g.
Dayananda, Jotiba Phule); Ram Rajya also had a
distinctive resonance as indicative of perfect governance and a harmonious
society (e.g. Gandhi). And the idea of `Muslim' rule creating a decisive break
in Indian history was most familiar, and had been institutionalised
in James Mill's influential early nineteenth-century History of British India
(1817). There is nothing distinctive, then, in the use of these ideas to characterise the quality of Hinduness.
They serve again to emphasise the embeddedness of the
Hindu nationalist approach in developing ideas about Indian culture during the
first half of the twentieth century.
This version of
history is nevertheless used as the basis for the development of some further
key elements of Hinduness as Indian culture. Perhaps
most significant is the valorisation of the geography
of India.' This key feature is clearly indicated by the emphasis on the land in
Savarkar's pitribhum-punyabhum formula. He writes:
Yes, this Bharat bhumi, this land of ours that stretches from Sindhu to
Sindhu is our Punyabhumi, for it was in this land
that the Founders of our faith and the seers to whom `Veda' the Knowledge was
revealed, from Vaidik seers to Dayananda, from Jina to Mahavir, from Buddha to Nagasen, from Nanak to Govind, from Banda to Basava, from
Chakradhar to Chaitanya, from Ramdas to Rammohun, our Gurus and Godmen were
born and bred. The very dust of its paths echoes the footfalls of our Prophets
and Gurus. (Savarkar 1989: 112)
Here, Savarkar
articulates archetypal diversity as indicative of Hinduness
through the land itself - the dust of its paths is representative of Hindu
culture. Golwalkar, who delineates Bharat as `a land with divinity ingrained in
every speck of its dust ... the holiest of the holy, the centre
of our utmost devotion' (1966: 86), reiterates this kind of reverential
approach. Again, this reverence is present in a broader dlourse
on the Indian nation during this period. Varshney has used the example of
Jawaharlal Nehru's will, in which he expresses a desire for some of his ashes
to be thrown into the Ganga, because that river has been `a symbol of India's
age-long culture and civilization, ever-changing, ever-flowing, and yet ever
the same Ganga' (Ethnic Conflict and Civic Life: Hindus and Muslims in India,
New Haven: Yale University Press. 2002: 63).
Varshney makes a
distinction between Nehru's view of the river, and that encompassed by Hindu
nationalism, on the basis that Nehru's vision of sacred geography was
`metaphorical', rather than `literal'. The quality of this distinction is not
clear, particularly since he goes on to say that the `emotions and attachment
generated by the geography were equally intense' (2002: 63). Rather than emphasising difference, we can see here again the way in
which Hindu nationalist thought has emerged within a broader complex of ideas
about the emerging nation, and that the idea of polarisation
between these ideas is apparently untenable.
One further aspect of
Hinduness as Indian culture needs emphasising
at this point. This is the focus on Ram and Sita, the heroes of the Ramayana,
as archetypal Indians. There has been a fair amount of work in recent years on
the developing ways in which these figures have been represented in art, film
and other media. The emphasis of this work has been on the representation of
Ram as a martial hero, defending the honour of
Hinduism with the aid of a mighty bow (Kapur 1993). Sita has operated
increasingly as the site of that defence, a meek and
pure individual who needs protection from violation (Basu `Feminism inverted:
the gender imagery and real women of Hindu nationalism', in T. Sarkar and U. Butalia (eds) Women and the Hindu Right: A Colection of Essays, New Delhi: Kali for Women1995:
158-80.). In the context of Hindutva, these figures are national, rather than
religious. Hence, the desire in recent times to build a temple at the
proclaimed `birthplace' of Ram in Ayodhya is perceived as a national project,
and resistance to this project is interpreted as anti-national, regardless of
your religious persuasion.
This valorisation of Ram and Sita is indicative of a wider point
on the idea of Hinduness or Hindutva. It denotes a
set of ideas that is consciously articulated as cultural, rather than
religious, and yet there is constant slippage into what we might perceive as
more clearly religious territory. On the one hand, this appears to be a
reflection of slippage in the original pitribhumi-punyabhumi
formulation, which claims to include on the basis of cultural space, but
clearly excludes on the basis of religious identity. On the other hand, it is
also a reflection of the problematic identification of Hindu nationalism as
religious nationalism, if religion is defined as a discrete category, in the
manner critiqued by Golwalkar as noted above. To an extent, this is a set of
ideas that exists in broader discursive fields than those signified by such a
category.
(iii) Sangathan -ordering society
Nothing demonstrates
this latter point more clearly than what has emerged as the most influential organisation propagating Hindu nationalism during the
twentieth century: the RSS. As is well documented, the Sangh emerged in the
mid-1920s with specific cultural objectives. It was established in Nagpur in
Central Provinces, a city with a minimal Muslim minority, and its first formal
public action was at the Ram Navami festival at nearby Ramtek.
The Sangh volunteers, led by the founder of the organisation
Dr. KB. Hedgewar, engaged in a form of crowd control, enforcing queues,
providing drinking water, and keeping an eye on commercial activity at the
festival, among other tasks.
This first public
action is interesting because it exemplifies two significant features of Hindu
nationalist thought. First, as we have just noted, Ram was an important
cultural symbol of the nascent Hindu nation. Here was an intervention in a
festival dedicated to Ram. However, the Sangh was apparently not interested in
the form of religious practice articulated at the mela (festival); rather, it
pursued the objective of establishing a sense of order within this environment.
Not only does this reiterate the idea of the focus on Ram as a cultural, rather
than an explicitly religious symbol, it also points us towards the second
significant feature: the establishment of a sense of order, discipline and organisation in Hindu social and cultural relations. This
idea, expressed in Hindi as sangathan, has emerged as
a fundamental Hindu nationalist concern.
The specific
trajectory of this concern with discipline and organisation.
Sangathan is significant because it is directed at the organisation
of society. A Hindu nationalist vision of the Hindu nation is intimately bound
up with the progressive realisation of a society
which operates harmoniously, in an integrated fashion. Most generally, this
vision has been articulated as a kind of organicist approach: society operates
like a body, each component part having its own valuable function. Golwalkar
comments:
All the organs,
though apparently of diverse forms, work for the welfare of the body and thus
subscribe to its strength and growth. Likewise is the case with society. An
evolved society, for the proper functioning of various duties, develops a
multitude of diverse functional groups. Our old social order laid down a
specific duty for each group and guided all the individuals and groups in their
natural line of evolution just as the intellect directs the activities of the
innumerable parts of the body.(1966: 100)
The ideal Hindu,
then, knows his place in this organism. Fulfilling one's function in the
organism, in a disciplined and orderly manner, is each individual's dharmic
duty. Members of thAangh organisation
- to a certain extent the swayamsevaks (volunteers),
but more specifically the pracharaks (full-time
workers) - act both as a vanguard working to bring this society into being, and
as examples of how to conduct oneself in accordance with dharma. In fact, the
Sangh itself has been described as a model for Hindu society; the RSS ideologue
M.G. Vaidya, for example, has described the Sangh as `not an organization in
society, but of society' (Zavos 2000: 196).
Such a vision, of
course, entails addressing the issue of caste, and Hindu nationalism is rather
ambivalent on this issue. At times, a fullfledged defence of the caste system has been articulated; at
others, a `return' to varnashrama dharma5 is advocated; at others, the Sangh's
vision is perceived as the eradication of caste altogether. A consistent
element in this position, however, is a non-confrontational approach to
established caste structures. Any transformation of caste structure is
perceived as occurring through `organic' development, rather than as requiring
radical change. This approach reflects the development of Hindu nationalist
thought in high caste, middle class social groups, and explains the strong
antipathy to any forms of independent low caste assertion (Zavos Conversion and
the assertive margins: an analysis of Hindu nationalist discourse and the
recent attacks on Indian Christians', South Asia, 24(2):73-89.2001).
This refers us back,
of course, to the concerns noted earlier over the shape of Hinduness
in the modern world. The organisation of society
emerges as a key means of articulating this shape. As an institution, the RSS
has consistently focused on this objective and rationalised
its actions in relation to it. Indeed, one way of understanding the Sangh
Parivar is as a project to establish a focused presence within the various
spaces of society, with the objective of demonstrating the Sangh's vision of organisation in microcosm and in relation to specific
issues. Politics and the state may be regarded as one of the identified spaces.
(iv) Integral humanism - the politics of social order
The argument that
politics must be seen as a component space within the Hindu nationalist
conception of society is exemplified by the idea of integral humanism. This
term enjoys a prominent profile in the BJP's main website (along with the
notion of Hindutva), and it refers to a set of ideas developed in lie 1950s and
1960s by Deendayal Upadhyaya.6
Upadhyaya was an RSS pracharak who had been influential in the Bharatiya Jana Sangh since it was established in 1951 as
the Sangh Parivar's first venture into the world of post-Independence politics.
Integral humanism was fully articulated as a political programme
in 1965. In a series of lectures, Upadhyaya sought to pitch this programme into what he perceived as a sea of cynicism and
opportunism in politics. `Parties and politicians have neither principles nor
aims nor a standard code of conduct,' he opined. In particular, he pointed to
Congress as lacking any kind of ideological coherence. `If there can be a magic
box which contains a cobra and a mongoose,' he continues, `it is Congress'
(1965: Ch. 1).
The set of ideas
which he went on to develop are based around a series of key themes. First, the
need to articulate specifically Indian answers to modern problems (through, for
example, promoting swadeshi and small scale industry); second, the need for politics
to be practised in consonance with the chiti (specific essence) of the Hindu nation; and lastly,
the need to sustain the `natural' balance between the individual and different
institutions in society - institutions like the family, caste and the state -
by acting in accordance with principles of dharma. This set of themes has been
interpreted as an incorporation of Gandhian idioms into Hindu nationalist
politics, in order to enhance the potential for forging alliances with other
anti-Congress forces, after twenty years of total domination of the polity by
that party. Integral humanism, then, may be interpreted as a means of
increasing the possibilities of power. As it so happens, new possibilities were
created in the late 1960s and early 1970s, particularly in association with the
Gandhian political leader, J.P. Narayan. The involvement of Hindu nationalist
forces in Narayan's anti-Indira agitations undoubtedly gave the Jana Sangh the
credibility to take a share in power in the post-Emergency Janata Party
coalition government . It is quite possible, then, to view this key element of
Hindu nationalist ideology in terms of electoral strategy, a resolve to bid for
power in the late 1960s. A similar interpretation of the VHP strategy around
the issue of the Babri Masjid in the 1980s is also well established (Jaffrelot The Hindu Nationalist Movement and Indian
Politics, 1925 to the 1990s: Strategies of Identity-Building, Implantation and Mobilisation (with Special Reference to Central India),
London: Hurst & Company. 1996). In these interpretations, Hindu nationalism
as ideology is framed to support the primary interest of an organisation
or set of organisations in state power.
The trajectories of
Hindu nationalist thought discussed so far in this chapter, however, must lead
us to consider a different kind of interpretation in relation to integral
humanism. In particular, Upadhyaya's ideas appear to follow the logic of the
emphasis on the organisation of society as a
principal objective. This may be seen in the key role he gave to the concept of
dharma (duty) in his lectures. Dharma, that is, in the same sense noted in
relation to the Hindu nationalist vision of society: a harmonious, integrated
system in which each individual and group has a specific function or duty.
Although Upadhyaya presents dharma as part of an integrated regulation of human
activity based on purushartha (the four universal
objectives of humanity), in his discussion he demonstrates this integration by
referring each objective (and in particular the `worldly', political objectives
of artha (gain) and kama
(pleasure) to dharma. 'Dharma,' he says, `defines a set of rules to regulate
the social activity, Artha and Kama, so as to progress in an integral and
harmonious way, and attain not only Kama and Artha but also Moksha eventually .
Without reference to dharma, then, other objectives may not be reached.
The invocation of
dharma indicates a further articulation of the idea of order or organisation of society as central to a Wdu
nationalist worldview. Upadhyaya interprets dharma as a kind of dynamic
network of interrelated regulations by which life should be led. It is these
regulations that govern social relations. Upadhyaya seeks authority from the
Mahabharata to argue that in the kritayuga (the first
of the four eras of the world), `there was no state or king. Society was
sustained and protected mutually by practicing dharma' (1965: Ch. 3). In
subsequent yugas (epochs), he explains, `disorganisation
came into existence', and as a result, the state was introduced as an
additional form of regulation, but the state was only ever legitimate if it
operated in accordance with dharma. The primacy of society, then, is clear
here, and the state exists as an institution - `an important one, but not above
all other' (1965: Ch. 3) - which is framed and governed by this idea.
This approach locates
integral humanism within the context of developing Hindu nationalist ideas
focused primarily on the transformation of society, rather than viewing it as
an instrumentalist appropriation of Gandhian idioms designed to increase the possibility
of power. There is certainly evidence of the appropriation of Gandhian idioms,
if not ideas, in Upadhyaya's lectures, but what this demonstrates primarily is
interaction in ideas about the development of society. I have argued elsewhere
that Gandhian idioms, ideas, and strategies were quite significant in the
articulation of Hindu nationalism in the 1920s (Zav6s 2000: 189-91). This
significance was not because of instrumentalist appropriation, or indeed
because Gandhi was a surrogate Hindu nationalist. Rather, Gandhian ideas and
Hindu nationalist ideas developed in the same discursive spaces, drawing on a
similar range of ideas about and experiences of history, culture and political mobilisation.
Whether in the 1920s
or the 1950s, the dialogue between Gandhian and Hindu nationalist ideas has to
be viewed as a straightforward element of the development of ideological forms.
These are, after all, perspectives on the world which exist primarily in what
Stuart Hall has called the `mental frameworks' of people, both individually and
in groups. These individuals and groups exist in time and space, and they formulate
their `mental frameworks' in accordance with the `languages, the concepts,
categories, imagery of thought and systems of representation' which are
available to them. In this context, the blending of ideological forms, the
borrowing of idioms and symbols, the adaptation of existing ideas has to be
perceived as the way in which meaning is constructed.
The structure of
Indian politics, with its sharp division between the secular and the communal,
does not help us to recognise this point.
Recognising the shapes of Hindu nationalism
A key conclusion to
be drawn from this analysis is that Hindu nationalist ideas about identity,
culture and politics draw on and to some extent reflect the construction of
ideas about the Indian nation and its cultural heritage in the late nineteenth
and twentieth centuries. Nevertheless, I have suggested that the use of
formulas and explicit religious symbols to draw the boundaries of national
identity may be construed as distinctive. Two lines of thought - the obsessive
concern with conversion and the aggressive assertion of ownership over sites
projected as sacred - are indicative of this distinctiveness.
Yet even here, there
is a degree of embeddedness in broader fields of thought. Perhaps the clearest
post-independence example of this point is the restoration of the Somnath
temple in 1947/8. This was carried out under the auspices of an INC government,
with the Home Minister Sardar Patel noting that `the restoration of the idols
would be a point of honour and sentiment with the
Hindu public' Jaffrelot 1996: 84). INC involvement in
this project is often perceived as indicative of the presence of `Hindu traditionalists'
in the party, a group who are distinguished from Hindu nationalists through the
comparative weakness of their ideological commitment, or through their primary
concern for the promotion of culture rather than opposition to the other (both
ideas are expressed in Jaffrelot 1996: 83-4). This
distinction is, I feel, rather over-wrought. The ideas underpinning the
approach of Patel and others in the INC during this period are clearly informed
by the same kind of concern for Hinduness overrun by
Muslim `invaders' as those noted earlier as indicative of Hindu nationalism.
Again, we get an indication of the fuzzy boundaries of this field of thought,
rather than its clear distinctiveness from Congress nationalism.
Conversion issues
also indicate a broader reach for ideas associated with Hindu nationalism than
the formal organisations of the Sangh Parivar. The
conversion of some Dalits to Islam in Meenakshipuram
in 1981 is a good example of this, in that the concerns expressed about this
event were far broader than those generated by the Sangh. Jaffrelot
notes that `leading articles in newspapers not known for their support of Hindu
nationalism suggested that the converts had been paid sums of money', and that
the whole process had been sponsored by rich Arab nations inspired by
pan-Islamism (1996: 341). This view was also taken by certain sections of the
INC Government, and the Indian Express published a poll revealing that as many
as 78 per cent of north Indian urban Hindus wanted the government to ban
conversions in the wake of Meenakshipuram (Jaffrelot 1996: 341). Such figures, of course, need to be
taken with a pinch of salt, but these responses do indicate again a degree of
embeddedness of some key ideas associated with Hindu nationalism in Indian
political life. The shapes of Hindu nationalism, in this sense, are not The
shapes of Hindu nationalism necessarily constrained by the limits of the
Sang-Parivar and other overtly Hindu nationalist organisations.
A further conclusion
concerns the focus on society rather than the state, through the realisation of correct dharma. Formal politics and the
control of the state is significant, but it needs to be placed within the
context of this broader focus, which conceptualises
society as a range of segmented areas and `functional groups', as Golwalkar
would have it. This point is graphically demonstrated by the network of organisations that constitute the Sangh Parivar. These organisations focus on a variety of issues, from tribal
welfare to education to labour relations, and this is
an expanding network across areas of social and cultural life.
The RSS - the `parent
organisation' - maintains a loose, rather informal
sense of control over the Sangh network. The current sarsanghchalak
(leader) of the RSS, KS. Sudarshan, explained the relationship in a recent
interview. `For the overall development of society', full time RSS workers are
encouraged to enter `different fields according to their abilities'. Their
general objective is common: `to try to find solutions to problems in those
assigned areas, under the Hindutva ideology'. Although the organisations
are independent, Sudarshan continues, the RSS maintains a guiding relationship
with its workers, who remain swayamsevaks (RSS cadre)
(Outlook 2003: 30 June). It is well known, for example, that the Prime Minister
and his deputy during the NDA's tenure, A.B. Vajpayee and L.K Advani, have
remained as swayamsevaks. Other key figures in the
BJP, for example, Gopinath Munde and Murli Manohar Joshi, have also followed
this path. Key leaders in the VHP, such as the international secretary, Ashok
Singhal, are also swayamsevaks, as are other key
Sangh figures such as the leader of the Swadeshi Jagran Manch (SJM, an
affiliate of the RSS set up in 1992 to oppose economic liberalisation),
Dattopant Thengadi.
Joshi and Singhal
demonstrate the route taken by ambitious swayamsevaks.
Joshi joined the RSS, at the age of 10, in 1944. While pursuing academic
studies, which culminated in a PhD in Spectroscopy from Allahabad University,
he became increasingly involved in the Sangh's student organisation,
the ABVP, achieving the status of General Secretary of this organisation
in the early 1950s. In 1957, he joined the Bharatiya
Jana Sangh and enjoyed increasing prominence in the Uttar Pradesh hierarchy of
this organisation; before becoming General Secretary
of the BJP in the 1980s, President in the early 1990s, and a key cabinet
minister in Vajpayee's administration, first as Home Minister, then taking
charge of three ministries: Human Resources Development (including education),
Science and Technology and Ocean Development. It is in the HRD ministry where
he has really made his mark, instigating policy initiatives in the education
sector, which demonstrate the Sangh's desire to shape national consciousness.7
Singhal also hails
from Uttar Pradesh, having been born in Allahabad in 1927. He also pursued a
technical education, achieving a BSc from Benares Hindu University in
Metallurgical Engineering. He joined the RSS as a swayamsevak,
before becoming a pracharak (full-time worker), and
eventually being assigned to the VHP in 1980. At this dynamic period of the organisation's history, Singhal rose quickly to become its
general secretary in 1986. Singhal later indicated the role the RSS had to play
in the development of different areas of social life by calling them `ascetics
in the real sense'. He identified `service' as `the key word of our culture,
and Sangh's swayamsevaks are symbols of service.
Today in all spheres of activity such workers are needed' (cited in Katju Vishwa Hindu Parishad and Indian Politics, Hyderabad:
Orient Longman. 2003: 68).
The complexity of the
Sangh network has increased over time, as new institutional layers are created.
For example, the VHP established the Bajrang Dal, initially as a sort of youth
wing. Over time, the Bajrang Dal has developed into a kind of confrontational
front for the VHP, providing foot soldiers in key campaigns such as that over
the Ram temple in Ayodhya. The Bajrang Dal also operates as a continuous
activist presence in local situations, providing its own version of
'socio-religious policing' to guard the honour of
local Hindu girls, protect local cattle and local temples, and so on (Katju Vishwa Hindu Parishad and Indian Politics, Hyderabad:
Orient Longman. 2003: 52). Likewise, the SJM is another organisation
which has gone on to develop more focused organisations,
such as the Centre for Bharatiya Marketing and
Development and the Swadeshi Vichar Kendra.'
Given these
developing, dynamic networks, it is not surprising that the Sangh has developed
a diversity of approaches to the idea of `finding solutions to problems' using
'Hindutva ideology'. Nothing has brought this diversity into focus more than
the period of NDA rule. The BJP's perceived inability to find the kind of
solutions demanded by different Sangh organisations
has induced sharp criticism. Ashok Singhal, for example, commented in 2003 that
'Atal and Advani have backstabbed the VHP' because of the government's
reticence over temple construction in Ayodhya (Free Press journal 2003). Also
in 2003, national convenor of the SJM, Muralidhar Rao, described the Vajpayee
government's economic policies as `dubious, deviant, diluted', particularly in
relation to disinvestment and the World Trade Organisation
(Telegraph (Calcutta) 2003). As a result of this divergence, the BJP was not
able to rely fully on the grassroots cadre of other Sangh organisations
during the 2004 general election campaign. At the BJP's National Executive
meeting held in July 2004 to review election performance, L.K. Advani stated
that there had been `a sense of alienation in our Parivar and a weakening of
the emotional bond with our core constituency' .
As if to reinforce
this point organisations such as the SJM and the VHP
have shed few tears at the fall of the NDA Government. Muralidhar Rao has gone
so far as to welcome the Common Minimum Programme of
the incoming INC-led United Progressive Alliance, commenting that the NDA had
`lost touch with the masses' . It appears from this evidence, then, that the
constraints of coalition government have caused a fracturing - and therefore
weakening - of Hindu nationalism as a political force.
The arguments
presented here, however, suggest that any assessment of the influence of Hindu
nationalism in political terms needs to recognise
that this is a set of ideas which is located in a much broader space than that
represented by the BJP. Because they overlap and blend with other key
discourses on Indian society, culture and identity, these are ideas which are
manifested in a wide range of political actions and articulations. In addition,
the focus identified here on social relations and social development demands a
broader understanding of what constitutes politics. For example, in tribal
areas of states such as Madhya Pradesh and Orissa, the Sangh affiliate Vanvasi Kalyan Parishad has been increasingly active,
reshaping tribal religious practices within a Hindu framework. In the arena of
education, the Sangh now has a network of schools, many run by the Vidya
Bharati Akhil Bharatiya Shiksha Sansthan.
The Vidya Bharati system supervises over 18,000 schools across India, with 1.8
million students and 80,000 teachers focusing on Sanskrit, moral and spiritual
education, yoga and physical development.' The political impact of Hindu
nationalism really needs to be measured in terms of its continuing activism in
such arenas, where politics is manifested not in terms of formal state
institutions, but as a contest for power in a network of localised
institutions and practices (Zavos et al. `Deconstructing the nation: politics
and cultural mobilization in India', in J. Zavos, A. Wyatt and V. Hewitt (eds)
Politics of Cultural Mobilization in India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press:
1-16. 2004: 3).
An approach which
focuses on the political impact of organisations such
as Vidya Bharati can also help us to locate Hindu nationalism in the context of
government. It is no coincidence that one of the most significant areas of
policy development during the NDA's tenure has been in the area of education.
From the National Council for Educational Research and Training (NCERT) to the
Indian Council for Historical Research, Hindu nationalist approaches have been
vigorously promoted; further reshaping ideas about Indian history and society
in a wide range of schools, colleges and universities.10 In order to recognise Hindu nationalism as a feature of the NDA
Government, then, we need to look particularly at those policy areas, such as
education, which impact on the structure and development of social relations.
Hindu nationalism
continues to be an influential force in the development of worliviews
in India, through the interaction and overlap of ideas as highlighted above,
and the vigorous, diversifying development of Sangh activities through its
affiliate organisations. In the final analysis, the
shapes of Hindu nationalism cannot really be contained in the arena of formal
politics. Recognising the impact of Hindu nationalism
means looking beyond this arena, beyond the state and the immediate problems
posed by coalition politics, to the ways in which its key ideas resonate in the
broad spaces of Indian social and cultural life.
1 See, for
example, The Hindu'BJP preparing to return to
Hindutva agenda?', The Hindu, 24 June,2002.
2 In more recent
years, the ideas extant in these texts have been developed by ideologues such
as Sita Ram Goel, Ram Swarup, H.V. Seshadri and P. Parameswaran, in a
succession of cheaply produced pamphlets and larger works distributed through
the network of the Sangh Parivar.
3 This is largely the
case, even though during 2003 and 2004 there have been successive disputes
between the BJP and its opponents over Savarkar's status as a national figure
and a freedom fighter.
4 See VC Jaffrelot From Indian territory to Hindu Bhoomi: the ethnicisation of nation-state mapping in India', in J.
Zavos, A. Wyatt and V. Hewitt (eds) Politics of Cultural Mobilization in India,
New Delhi, Oxford University Press. 2004: 197-215.
5 Trans. Order of
society in accordance with the duties of the four classes and the four stages
of life.
6 See
www.bjp.org/philo.htm.
7 See part 2 below.
8 See
www.swadeshi.org/aboutus.
9 See
www.vidyabharati.org.
10 See part 2 below.
P.2: The Politics of Education
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