But, but, but… Big questions remain – How are these vitally needed changes going to take place? How can you equate healthy economic growth rates with such widespread levels of poverty? How can a significant improvement in ‘distributive out comes’ happen? The recent government claims for success in poverty reduction are confidently dismissed both on empirical and conceptual grounds. Changing how you define poverty does not amount to changing the circumstances of the poor. As Dréze and Sen remind us, “There has been extraordinary tolerance of inequalities, stratification and caste divisions – accepted as allegedly parts of the social order.” So, yes – there must be a greater transparency in the State and regional institutions, as advocated by Dréze and Sen. Yes, there must be a greater participation by the poor themselves in decision-making channels and institutions, and it would help enormously if there was a public climate and discussion that was supportive of challenging social and economic inequalities. And yes, there must be a more vigorous prosecution of the guilty. The big answers to the big questions though, is as Vivek Chibber notes in a review of the book, lies in the political and economic contexts within which institutions are embedded. Reforms are likely to be curtailed or neutered because of structural characteristics rather than short fallings of individuals or weaknesses in the broader culture. At the end of the day, it is a question of power whether of a political, patriarchal or economic nature. As Chibber argues, “only a prior shift in power relations on the ground – that is, a greater capacity of ordinary citizens to exercise real power over the state, as a countervailing force against the power that flows from money or public office.” Demands for greater accountability in public institutions will fail unless accompanied and supported by the organisational strength of working people. Reforms in the rural areas are meant well when addressing poverty in the countryside but unless the influence and power of the agrarian elites is confronted, many of the reforms will remain ineffectual.
A similar narrative is detectable in the urban centres. A rising clamour is heard almost daily, calling for reform of the country’s trade unions. The general strike throughout India in September 2015 which brought millions of workers on to the streets was ignored outside the country but illustrated the anger and deep sense of injustice felt by many, including the BJP-affiliated trade unions. Websites such as sanhati.com detail the implications and results of these changes within particular states as well as on a national level. Increased workplace health and safety risks, regular flare-ups, reduced collective bargaining opportunities and increased use of temporary contracts are only some of the measures flowing from the Modi government’s ‘reforms’ of industrial relations. As was suggested in a previous chapter, it is unlikely that these and similarly related economic ‘reforms’ will cease in the years ahead. The issue of redistribution and economic reforms, which Dréze and Sen’s analysis focuses upon, is further complicated by the increasing fracturing of the political community. Despite its wonderful, uplifting, and unlikely story of ‘being the world’s largest democracy’, the recent election demonstrated political voting patterns and complexities which are unlikely to smooth or improve in the future – all sorts of regional political groups doing all sort of deals, divided by caste, class, religion and geography. ‘Redistribution’, however a laudable goal of policy and economic reform, seems further away today than in earlier times.
As mentioned in the previous chapter, the emergence of neoliberalism as the dominant economic framework over the last three decades has resulted in a shift in the prevailing ‘common sense’. Originally emerging from the English-speaking, Anglo-American economies as a response to the post-war downturn, neoliberalism today reigns dominant in most regions of the globe. The BRIC economies – Brazil, Russia, India and China – are seen by some as providing a challenge to the neoliberal dominance (especially with the promotion of their Development Bank), but I think this might be a little optimistic. Their criticisms of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and of the World Bank are timely and shared by many but are unlikely to challenge the new common sense of gross economic inequality, consumerism and economic growth, at any cost.
Social democratic or welfare administrations attempting to negotiate a ‘third way’ alternative to neoliberal orthodoxy have failed and, instead, resulted in the return of right-wing parties. By the turn of the century, right-wing governments were back in charge in, for example, France, Austria, Spain, Italy and in India. The political “moving rightwards show” over the last decade or so has freed up political space further to the ‘new’ (right-wing) mainstream. In Europe, a number of politically ugly, racist and nationalist new parties have emerged into the ‘respectable’ normal, as in Poland, Austria, Greece, France and Italy.
And of course when it comes to democracy, there is little for India to learn or take from its old colonial power. The stunted and partial nature of the democratic practices and institutions in Britain’s ‘constitutional monarchy’ has long been recognised. A deeply class-riven society, presided over by a deeply conservative Conservative Party and embedded aristocracy meanders into a greater irrelevancy in the early decades of the 21st century. In the case of India, however, a Nehruvian secularism expected a degree of ‘generosity’ by the majority towards the minorities. The growing intolerance and rise of ultra-nationalist Hindutva sentiments (and brutalities) increasingly exposes the fragility of this historic generosity. The current stresses and strains on democracy within the country are, concludes Pankaj Mishra, “its most sinister phase since independence.” For all those inside and outside India who cherish the peoples, histories and cultures of this great country, these are indeed worrying times.
Chapter 10
Of Tigers and Elephants
The Sri Lanka nightmare
When thinking about it, I seem to have spent a lot of my time down in South India. Geographically, it’s that part of the country that is triangle shaped. South India, sometimes referred to as Peninsular India, encompasses states such as Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, Kerala, Tamil Nadu and the new kid on the block, Telangana. Kerala aside, it’s not the most favoured of destinations for oversea visitors which is a bit of a surprise – it seems to offer a bit of everything. As mentioned in earlier chapters, I have spent very pleasant stays in some of the bigger cities in the region such as Madras, Bangalore, Cochin, Pondicherry and Madurai and ogled at some of the stone carvings, ornate Dravidian-style Hindu temples with their monumental towers and munched many a spicy coconut rice dish off fresh banana leaves. It was my visit to Sri Lanka in 2017 that sparked my thoughts and recollections about my travels in southern India. I didn’t go to India that year. Instead I went for the first time to Sri Lanka and spent an enjoyable month wondering around the island. My route was probably very similar to that taken by most tourists – down south from Colombo (the capital), along the west coast on the train to Galle, east along the southern coast and then inland, going north up to Kandy. I based myself at Dambulla for about a week before returning to Colombo via Anuradhapura. I didn’t make it to the Vanni, the northern region or to its capital, Jaffna: I ran out of time. In fact, I didn’t even manage to get to visit the famous ancient Banyan tree in Anuradhapura. Commonly referred to as a Bodhi or the Bo tree or to give it its formal name, Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi, this particular tree is seen as one of the most sacred sites of the Buddhists in the country and is revered by Buddhists throughout the world. It is said to be the world’s oldest documented tree. Received wisdom states that this tree originated from the right branch of the Banyan tree under which Buddha attained enlightenment in North India. Brought to Sri Lanka in 288 BCE, the Bodhi tree was the most important symbol of royal political power until the arrival of the Sacred Tooth Relic from Buddha in the fourth century and now housed – under heavy guard – in the temple at Kandy. The tree’s significance became greatly enhanced after the destruction of the original Banyan tree at Buddhagaya in North India. It is said that many if not most of the Banyan trees growing throughout Southeast Asia origina
te from this Sri Lankan tree. I much regret not getting to visit, or at least touching or hugging, the allegedly 2,239-year-old tree. My excuse was that there were other more recent things that I was thinking about.
After the defeat of the Tamil Tigers in May 2009 in a bitter and bloody civil war that had lasted some three to four decades everyone was naturally trying to persuade me and other tourists that ‘things were returning to normal’. The destructive tsunami of December 2004 had passed but was not forgotten. Everyone had these amazing heroic stories of exactly where they were, what they had done and how (with no government support) they were slowly putting their lives back together again since that fateful December. And the victorious but scary, vicious, dictatorial President Mahinda Rajapaksa had gone – surprisingly defeated in the 2015 general election by Maithripala Sirisena. Things have for many people got better, but I couldn’t help feeling a little apprehensive. Communal disputes (and worse) promoted by militant, nationalist Buddhist monks and their followers against, in the main, Muslim communities continue. Little progress has been made over the widespread allegations of war crimes perpetrated, primarily, by government troops especially in the last months of the civil war. Press censorship has been lifted but the issue of the numerous disappeared journalists of the last decade has yet to be addressed. The great aristocratic families that have dominated Sri Lankan politics and the economy since Independence from the British in 1948 continue their dominance. Above all though, it is the humiliation and ‘occupation’ of the Tamils in the north of the country that is most worrying. The political and cultural marginalisation of the Tamils in the north by zealous forces of the military and police are to ensure once and for all that the Tamil problem will be no more. Buddhist statues, Sinhalese scripts instead of Tamil, road checks, a discriminatory education system, some 85,000 soldiers and a collapsed economy characterise the Hindu north. Sinhalese are being encouraged to move north so as to dilute the Tamil influence. Yes – the iconic A9 road into the north is open once again as are the train services from Jaffna to Colombo and tourist developments are afoot. However, banking everything on the humiliation and occupation of the Tamil north is not a proven way forward in Sri Lanka or elsewhere. It is, in fact, the opposite.
For me as for many around the world, the recent civil war was a continuing concern over the decades. As a recent visitor to the country it remained an overwhelming presence – something that was always there. Nearly everywhere that I went throughout the island had witnessed or knew intimate details of some atrocity or episode of the civil war. It was difficult to disconnect or disassociate my travels with this traumatising and engulfing episode. Things are improving but many issues will remain, perhaps understandably, a silent or blanked-out subject for most Sri Lankans in the decades ahead. As mentioned in the opening to this chapter, it was not perhaps surprising then that I often found myself reflecting back while in Sri Lanka on my times down Tamil southern India. Although only a few miles north, how had the people of southern India coped and managed with this onslaught just across the water from themselves? There are accounts of bungled Indian initiatives such as The Indian Peace Keeping Force at the end of the 1980s. Prior to 2009, small pieces about the war appeared in the India media, but overall, there was a war-weary edge to the reports. However, the full story of the efforts and activities of India’s Tamil people in support of the Tigers’ (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam) struggle for an independent Tamil state in Sri Lanka remains largely unexplored and undocumented.
An overbusy military
The other thing that kept occurring to me on the trip to Sri Lanka was the prominence of military conflict and struggle since independence in both countries. Although different in origins, timing and causes, both countries have suffered considerably in outbreaks of violence involving state forces. Given the abrupt and panicked departure of the British from this part of the world coupled with their system of ‘governance’ (to be generous), it is perhaps surprising that there has not been greater strife. In the case of Sri Lanka, the Tamil Tigers conflict is the more obvious example and in general, I think it is fair to argue, India is not seen as a country of conflict. Instead it is rarely mentioned. In recent years it has not been uncommon at this or that international forum or summit for India to be portrayed as the ‘light on the horizon’ or ‘beacon of hope’. After a few years when the economy seemed to be slowing, the country today is seen as having recovered its mojo; it’s back on track. Impressive growth figures continue to rise while those of China move in the opposite direction. Western economies meanwhile continue to limp along showing very little progress since the financial crash of 2009. Admittedly, there haven’t been too many good news stories in the last decade. In fact the world seems a decidedly more dangerous place today than only a couple of years ago. Risks of confrontations and worse, political bullying and the growing respectability of a crude, gangster form of nationalism seem to be the new political norm. Continuing waves of political crisis dominate our morning newspaper headlines. India though doesn’t figure significantly in these new troubled narratives. In the main it bobs along below the horizon, quietly getting on with becoming an economic superpower. Its Republic Day parades in Delhi continue to be festivals of pride, cheerfulness and misplaced assumptions of military prowess and significance. Important foreign dignitaries dutifully attend hoping to attract some of the magical economic glitter. Global stereotypes are polished and replicated once again on our television channels. Instead of a focus on developments within the country, the focus tends to be on the country’s role internationally. Lack of ‘hard power’ is a favourite description of the country’s showing on the international stage.
Kashmir does occasionally feature in international news reports but for all the wrong reasons: the region is one of the world’s most dangerous military hotspots. Two nuclear armed nations – India and Pakistan – confront each other. Despite a United Nations 1957 resolution stipulating that a plebiscite conducted by the UN should determine the future of the state, India has blocked any such initiative knowing which way the Muslim majority would vote. Instead we have around 700,000 military and paramilitary Indian personnel based in the Kashmiri region – one soldier for every 17 civilians. A Special Powers Act allows these military forces to act with almost total impunity, a law which the UN states has “no place in a democracy”. Thousands of unmarked graves have been discovered with ‘disappearances’ and ‘encounter deaths’ a common feature for most of Kashmir’s history since Independence. Most calculations of militants trained in Pakistan tend to put the number under 500. The historical absence and invisibility of Kashmir brutalities in the international media is matched by the unanimously uncritical and nationalistic tone of India’s press. Worse – there seems to be an indifference in the media towards struggles to win self-determination by Kashmiris. Yet, it is, reports Pankaj Mishra in The Guardian, “the biggest, bloodiest and also the most obscure military occupation in the world.” Since 1989 more than 80,000 people have been killed in an anti-India insurgency, supported by Pakistan. “Today Kashmir is the most densely militarised zone in the world,” bravely reported Arundhati Roy. The history of Kashmir is complex, but worryingly, there are also other ‘invisible’ examples in India which provide serious concerns and worries. Separatist movements in the north-east of the country occasionally flare up. The struggle in Assam has been rumbling away for two to three decades and has claimed some 10,000 lives. The Naga people together with the claims for an independent Tripura are continuing. Outside visits to these parts of India are difficult and sometimes prohibited. However, “the single biggest internal security ever faced by our country,” said Prime Minister Manmohan Singh a few years ago, was not in Kashmir or the north-east but in the state of Chhattisgarh. Located with the centre east of the country, the heavily wooded state with its numerous temples is home to the four-decade Naxalite or Maoist rebellion. In 2013 the insurgents wiped out almost the entire leadership on the state-governing Congress Party. Supposedly
based and supported by the Adivasis (indigenous Tribal Indians) and poor farmers, the Maoists seek a socialist-communist government through the overthrow of the Indian state. According to the Global Research website, the insurgency has spread to encompass 20 states. The seven most affected states are Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, West Bengal, Maharashtra, Orissa, Bihar and Andhra Pradesh. About 10,000 people have been killed in the expanding civil war since the 1980s. Estimates of the insurgent numbers are about 20,000 fighters with some 50,000 supporters. These forces are matched by some 81,000 paramilitary troops. Central to the grievances of the farmers and Adivasis is the looting in these states of the land and mineral resources. The state of Jharkhand in eastern India with its weak, corrupt government is the main focus of the struggles. Extraction of coal and iron and steel by large national companies has decimated the forests – the livelihood of the Adivasis. Making up just over a quarter of Jharkhand’s population, the mining licenses granted to the private sector companies amount to the “genocide of the Adivasis,” argued the editor of a newspaper dedicated to the support of the anti-mining coalition. Saranda Forest where 19 mining licenses have already been granted (fraudulently apparently) has been described by the Indian journalist as “to eastern India what the Amazon rainforests are to the world.” Resistance to these encroachments has resulted in Jharkhand being today a ‘fully militarised zone’ with over a hundred military bases.
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