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Thursday 8 January 2009

Satyam board hailed from heights of business and academia


 

Satyam board hailed from heights of business and academia

By James Fontanella-Khan in Mumbai
 
Published: January 7 2009 20:13 | Last updated: January 7 2009 20:13
 
Satyam's independent directors were among the most respected and renowned in India, as they covered key political, academic and corporate roles on the subcontinent and internationally.
 
Mangalam Srinivasan was appointed as an independent director of Satyam in July 1991. An acclaimed academic and management consultant, she was one of the first women to be invited as a fellow to Harvard University's Center for International Affairs and is an adviser to Harvard's Kennedy School of Government.
 
Apart from her academic and business career, she has played key roles in several governmental organisations. Ms Srinivasan worked as an adviser to Indira Gandhi, India's former prime minister, in the 1980s and was a consultant to the United Nations on corporate social responsibility. Ms Srinivasan was the first director to resign in December after the World Bank barred the Satyam from doing business with them and after the group's botched attempt to buy two companies controlled by the family of B. Ramalinga Raju, the chairman.

 
M. Rammohan Rao, who chaired the controversial board meeting on the acquisition of the two companies, which was scrapped after investors revolted, was appointed as an independent director of Satyam in July 2005. He is the dean of the prestigious Indian School of Business at Gachibowli on the outskirts of Hyderabad, the city where Satyam is based. Before becoming dean of IBS, he headed the Indian Institute of Management, Bangalore, where many of the subcontinent's most successful business people have been trained.
 
As an internationally recognised academic, Mr Rao also taught at the Stern School of Business, which is part of New York University.
He sits on several boards in India, including APIDC Venture Capital and Bharat Electronics. Mr Rao was also a member of the Reserve Bank of India panel formed to recruit a deputy governor. However, he was forced to resign from the panel as the Satyam scandal developed.
 
He resigned from Satyam's board on December 29.
 
T.R. Prasad, who was appointed to Satyam's board in April 2007, is one of two out of six independent directors who has not resigned from his post since the scandal broke in mid-December.
 
Before joining Satyam, Mr Prasad held a number of key roles in government. He was formerly cabinet secretary and member of the Finance Commission of India. He was also secretary of Industrial Policy and Promotion and chairman of the Foreign Investment Promotion Board.




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Monday 5 January 2009

Scientists dismiss 'detox myth'

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/7808348.stm
 
  
There is no evidence that products widely promoted to help the body "detox" work, scientists warn.

 

The charitable trust Sense About Science reviewed 15 products, from bottled water to face scrub, and found many detox claims were "meaningless".

 

Anyone worried about the after-effects of Christmas overindulgence would get the same benefits from eating healthily and getting plenty of sleep, they said.

 

Advertising regulators said they looked at such issues on a case-by-case basis.

 

The investigation, done by research members of the Voice of Young Science network, was kicked off by a campaign to unpick "dodgy" science claims - where companies use phrases that sound scientific but do not actually mean anything.


 

They challenged the companies behind products such as vitamins, shampoo, detox patches and a body brush on the evidence they had to support the detox claims made.

 

No two companies seemed to use the same definition of detox - officially defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as the removal of toxic substances or qualities.

 

In the majority of cases, producers and retailers were forced to admit that they had simply renamed processes like cleaning or brushing, as detox, the scientists said.

 

Toxins

 

One researcher investigated a Garnier face wash which claimed to detoxify the skin by removing toxins.

 

The "toxins" turned out to be the dirt, make-up and skin oils that any cleanser would be expected to remove, she said.

 

A five-day detox plan from Boots which claimed to detoxify the body and flush away toxins was also criticised for not being backed by evidence.

Evelyn Harvey, a biologist who looked into the product, said that if consumers followed the healthy diet that was recommended alongside the supplement they would probably feel better - but it would have nothing to do with the product itself.

 

The researchers warned that, at worst, some detox diets could have dangerous consequences and, at best, they were a waste of money.

 

Tom Wells, a chemist who took part in the research, said: "The minimum sellers of detox products should be able to offer is a clear understanding of what detox is and proof that their product actually works.

 

"The people we contacted could do neither."

 

Alice Tuff, from Sense About Science, added: "It is ridiculous that we're seeing a return to mystical properties being claimed for products in the 21st Century and I'm really pleased that young scientists are sharing their concerns about this with the public."

 

The Advertising Standards Authority said it would investigate such claims on a case-by-case basis if a complaint was made.

"If a product is making claims not substantiated by the evidence submitted by the company we would challenge that."

 

A spokeswoman from Boots said its five-day detox plan encouraged people to drink water and includes ingredients that "battle against toxins and help protect from the dangers of free radicals".

 
And Garnier commented: "All Garnier products undergo rigorous testing and evaluation to ensure that our claims are accurate and noticeable by our consumers."
 



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Sunday 4 January 2009

The true story behind this war is not the one Israel is telling

 

Johann Hari
 

The world isn't just watching the Israeli government commit a crime in Gaza; we are watching it self-harm. This morning, and tomorrow morning, and every morning until this punishment beating ends, the young people of the Gaza Strip are going to be more filled with hate, and more determined to fight back, with stones or suicide vests or rockets. Israeli leaders have convinced themselves that the harder you beat the Palestinians, the softer they will become. But when this is over, the rage against Israelis will have hardened, and the same old compromises will still be waiting by the roadside of history, untended and unmade.
 
To understand how frightening it is to be a Gazan this morning, you need to have stood in that small slab of concrete by the Mediterranean and smelled the claustrophobia. The Gaza Strip is smaller than the Isle of Wight but it is crammed with 1.5 million people who can never leave. They live out their lives on top of each other, jobless and hungry, in vast, sagging tower blocks. From the top floor, you can often see the borders of their world: the Mediterranean, and Israeli barbed wire. When bombs begin to fall – as they are doing now with more deadly force than at any time since 1967 – there is nowhere to hide.
 
There will now be a war over the story of this war. The Israeli government says, "We withdrew from Gaza in 2005 and in return we got Hamas and Qassam rockets being rained on our cities. Sixteen civilians have been murdered. How many more are we supposed to sacrifice?" It is a plausible narrative, and there are shards of truth in it, but it is also filled with holes. If we want to understand the reality and really stop the rockets, we need to rewind a few years and view the run-up to this war dispassionately.
 
The Israeli government did indeed withdraw from the Gaza Strip in 2005 – in order to be able to intensify control of the West Bank. Ariel Sharon's senior adviser, Dov Weisglass, was unequivocal about this, explaining: "The disengagement [from Gaza] is actually formaldehyde. It supplies the amount of formaldehyde that is necessary so that there will not be a political process with the Palestinians... this whole package that is called the Palestinian state has been removed from our agenda indefinitely."
 
Ordinary Palestinians were horrified by this, and by the fetid corruption of their own Fatah leaders, so they voted for Hamas. It certainly wouldn't have been my choice – an Islamist party is antithetical to all my convictions - but we have to be honest. It was a free and democratic election, and it was not a rejection of a two-state solution. The most detailed polling of Palestinians, by the University of Maryland, found that 72 per cent want a two-state solution on the 1967 borders, while fewer than 20 per cent want to reclaim the whole of historic Palestine. So, partly in response to this pressure, Hamas offered Israel a long, long ceasefire and a de facto acceptance of two states, if only Israel would return to its legal borders.
 
Rather than seize this opportunity and test Hamas's sincerity, the Israeli government reacted by punishing the entire civilian population. It announced that it was blockading the Gaza Strip in order to "pressure" its people to reverse the democratic process. The Israelis surrounded the Strip and refused to let anyone or anything out. They let in a small trickle of food, fuel and medicine – but not enough for survival. Weisglass quipped that the Gazans were being "put on a diet". According to Oxfam, only 137 trucks of food were allowed into Gaza last month to feed 1.5 million people. The United Nations says poverty has reached an "unprecedented level." When I was last in besieged Gaza, I saw hospitals turning away the sick because their machinery and medicine was running out. I met hungry children stumbling around the streets, scavenging for food.
 
It was in this context – under a collective punishment designed to topple a democracy – that some forces within Gaza did something immoral: they fired Qassam rockets indiscriminately at Israeli cities. These rockets have killed 16 Israeli citizens. This is abhorrent: targeting civilians is always murder. But it is hypocritical for the Israeli government to claim now to speak out for the safety of civilians when it has been terrorising civilians as a matter of state policy.
The American and European governments are responding with a lop-sidedness that ignores these realities. They say that Israel cannot be expected to negotiate while under rocket fire, but they demand that the Palestinians do so under siege in Gaza and violent military occupation in the West Bank.
 
Before it falls down the memory hole, we should remember that last week, Hamas offered a ceasefire in return for basic and achievable compromises. Don't take my word for it. According to the Israeli press, Yuval Diskin, the current head of the Israeli security service Shin Bet, "told the Israeli cabinet [on 23 December] that Hamas is interested in continuing the truce, but wants to improve its terms." Diskin explained that Hamas was requesting two things: an end to the blockade, and an Israeli ceasefire on the West Bank. The cabinet – high with election fever and eager to appear tough – rejected these terms.
The core of the situation has been starkly laid out by Ephraim Halevy, the former head of Mossad. He says that while Hamas militants – like much of the Israeli right-wing – dream of driving their opponents away, "they have recognised this ideological goal is not attainable and will not be in the foreseeable future." Instead, "they are ready and willing to see the establishment of a Palestinian state in the temporary borders of 1967." They are aware that this means they "will have to adopt a path that could lead them far from their original goals" – and towards a long-term peace based on compromise.
 
The rejectionists on both sides – from Mahmoud Ahmadinejad of Iran to Bibi Netanyahu of Israel – would then be marginalised. It is the only path that could yet end in peace but it is the Israeli government that refuses to choose it. Halevy explains: "Israel, for reasons of its own, did not want to turn the ceasefire into the start of a diplomatic process with Hamas."
 
Why would Israel act this way? The Israeli government wants peace, but only one imposed on its own terms, based on the acceptance of defeat by the Palestinians. It means the Israelis can keep the slabs of the West Bank on "their" side of the wall. It means they keep the largest settlements and control the water supply. And it means a divided Palestine, with responsibility for Gaza hived off to Egypt, and the broken-up West Bank standing alone.
 
Negotiations threaten this vision: they would require Israel to give up more than it wants to. But an imposed peace will be no peace at all: it will not stop the rockets or the rage. For real safety, Israel will have to talk to the people it is blockading and bombing today, and compromise with them.
The sound of Gaza burning should be drowned out by the words of the Israeli writer Larry Derfner. He says: "Israel's war with Gaza has to be the most one-sided on earth... If the point is to end it, or at least begin to end it, the ball is not in Hamas's court – it is in ours."


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Saturday 3 January 2009

Why bombing Ashkelon is the most tragic irony


 

Robert Fisk: 

 

How easy it is to snap off the history of the Palestinians, to delete the narrative of their tragedy, to avoid a grotesque irony about Gaza which – in any other conflict – journalists would be writing about in their first reports: that the original, legal owners of the Israeli land on which Hamas rockets are detonating live in Gaza.
 
That is why Gaza exists: because the Palestinians who lived in Ashkelon and the fields around it – Askalaan in Arabic – were dispossessed from their lands in 1948 when Israel was created and ended up on the beaches of Gaza. They – or their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren – are among the one and a half million Palestinian refugees crammed into the cesspool of Gaza, 80 per cent of whose families once lived in what is now Israel. This, historically, is the real story: most of the people of Gaza don't come from Gaza.
 
But watching the news shows, you'd think that history began yesterday, that a bunch of bearded anti-Semitic Islamist lunatics suddenly popped up in the slums of Gaza – a rubbish dump of destitute people of no origin – and began firing missiles into peace-loving, democratic Israel, only to meet with the righteous vengeance of the Israeli air force. The fact that the five sisters killed in Jabalya camp had grandparents who came from the very land whose more recent owners have now bombed them to death simply does not appear in the story.
 
Both Yitzhak Rabin and Shimon Peres said back in the 1990s that they wished Gaza would just go away, drop into the sea, and you can see why. The existence of Gaza is a permanent reminder of those hundreds of thousands of Palestinians who lost their homes to Israel, who fled or were driven out through fear or Israeli ethnic cleansing 60 years ago, when tidal waves of refugees had washed over Europe in the aftermath of the Second World War and when a bunch of Arabs kicked out of their property didn't worry the world.
 
Well, the world should worry now. Crammed into the most overpopulated few square miles in the whole world are a dispossessed people who have been living in refuse and sewage and, for the past six months, in hunger and darkness, and who have been sanctioned by us, the West. Gaza was always an insurrectionary place. It took two years for Ariel Sharon's bloody "pacification", starting in 1971, to be completed, and Gaza is not going to be tamed now.
Alas for the Palestinians, their most powerful political voice – I'm talking about the late Edward Said, not the corrupt Yassir Arafat (and how the Israelis must miss him now) – is silent and their predicament largely unexplained by their deplorable, foolish spokesmen. "It's the most terrifying place I've ever been in," Said once said of Gaza. "It's a horrifyingly sad place because of the desperation and misery of the way people live. I was unprepared for camps that are much worse than anything I saw in South Africa."
 
Of course, it was left to Israeli Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni to admit that "sometimes also civilians pay the price," an argument she would not make, of course, if the fatality statistics were reversed. Indeed, it was instructive yesterday to hear a member of the American Enterprise Institute – faithfully parroting Israel's arguments – defending the outrageous Palestinian death toll by saying that it was "pointless to play the numbers game". Yet if more than 300 Israelis had been killed – against two dead Palestinians – be sure that the "numbers game" and the disproportionate violence would be all too relevant.
The simple fact is that Palestinian deaths matter far less than Israeli deaths. True, we know that 180 of the dead were Hamas members. But what of the rest? If the UN's conservative figure of 57 civilian fatalities is correct, the death toll is still a disgrace.
 
To find both the US and Britain failing to condemn the Israeli onslaught while blaming Hamas is not surprising. US Middle East policy and Israeli policy are now indistinguishable and Gordon Brown is following the same dog-like devotion to the Bush administration as his predecessor.
 
As usual, the Arab satraps – largely paid and armed by the West – are silent, preposterously calling for an Arab summit on the crisis which will (if it even takes place), appoint an "action committee" to draw up a report which will never be written. For that is the way with the Arab world and its corrupt rulers. As for Hamas, they will, of course, enjoy the discomfiture of the Arab potentates while cynically waiting for Israel to talk to them. Which they will. Indeed, within a few months, we'll be hearing that Israel and Hamas have been having "secret talks" – just as we once did about Israel and the even more corrupt PLO. But by then, the dead will be long buried and we will be facing the next crisis since the last crisis.



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From The Ashes Of Gaza

 Tariq Ali  

 

(31 December, 2008) 

 

-- The assault on Gaza, planned over six months and executed with perfect timing, was designed largely, as Neve Gordon has rightly observed, to help the incumbent parties triumph in the forthcoming Israeli elections. The dead Palestinians are little more than election fodder in a cynical contest between the right and the far right in Israel. Washington and its EU allies, perfectly aware that Gaza was about to be assaulted, as in the case of Lebanon in 2006, sit back and watch.

 

Washington, as is its wont, blames the pro-Hamas Palestinians, with Obama and Bush singing from the same AIPAC hymn sheet. The EU politicians, having observed the build-up, the siege, the collective punishment inflicted on Gaza, the targeting of civilians etc (for all the gory detail, see Harvard scholar Sara Roy's chilling essay in the London Review of Books) were convinced that it was the rocket attacks that had "provoked" Israel but called on both sides to end the violence, with nil effect. The moth-eaten Mubarak dictatorship in Egypt and Nato's favourite Islamists in Ankara failed to register even a symbolic protest by recalling their ambassadors from Israel. China and Russia did not convene a meeting of the UN security council to discuss the crisis.

 

As result of official apathy, one outcome of this latest attack will be to inflame Muslim communities throughout the world and swell the ranks of those very organisations that the west claims it is combating in the "war against terror".

 

The bloodshed in Gaza raises broader strategic questions for both sides, issues related to recent history. One fact that needs to be recognised is that there is no Palestinian Authority. There never was one. The Oslo Accords were an unmitigated disaster for the Palestinians, creating a set of disconnected and shrivelled Palestinian ghettoes under the permanent watch of a brutal enforcer. The PLO, once the repository of Palestinian hope, became little more than a supplicant for EU money.

 

Western enthusiasm for democracy stops when those opposed to its policies are elected to office. The west and Israel tried everything to secure a Fatah victory: Palestinian voters rebuffed the concerted threats and bribes of the "international community" in a campaign that saw Hamas members and other oppositionists routinely detained or assaulted by the IDF, their posters confiscated or destroyed, US and EU funds channelled into the Fatah campaign, and US congressmen announcing that Hamas should not be allowed to run.

 

Even the timing of the election was set by the determination to rig the outcome. Scheduled for the summer of 2005, it was delayed till January 2006 to give Abbas time to distribute assets in Gaza - in the words of an Egyptian intelligence officer, "the public will then support the Authority against Hamas."

 

Popular desire for a clean broom after ten years of corruption, bullying and bluster under Fatah proved stronger than all of this. Hamas's electoral triumph was treated as an ominous sign of rising fundamentalism, and a fearsome blow to the prospects of peace with Israel, by rulers and journalists across the Atlantic world. Immediate financial and diplomatic pressures were applied to force Hamas to adopt the same policies as those of the party it had defeated at the polls. Uncompromised by the Palestinian Authority's combination of greed and dependency, the self-enrichment of its servile spokesmen and policemen, and their acquiescence in a "peace process" that has brought only further expropriation and misery to the population under them, Hamas offered the alternative of a simple example. Without any of the resources of its rival, it set up clinics, schools, hospitals, vocational training and welfare programmes for the poor. Its leaders and cadres lived frugally, within reach of ordinary people.

 

It is this response to everyday needs that has won Hamas the broad base of its support, not daily recitation of verses from the Koran. How far its conduct in the second Intifada has given it an additional degree of credibility is less clear. Its armed attacks on Israel, like those of Fatah's Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade or Islamic Jihad, have been retaliations against an occupation far more deadly than any actions it has ever undertaken. Measured on the scale of IDF killings, Palestinian strikes have been few and far between. The asymmetry was starkly exposed during Hamas's unilateral ceasefire, begun in June 2003, and maintained throughout the summer, despite the Israeli campaign of raids and mass arrests that followed, in which some 300 Hamas cadres were seized from the West Bank.

 

On August 19 2003, a self-proclaimed "Hamas" cell from Hebron, disowned and denounced by the official leadership, blew up a bus in west Jerusalem, upon which Israel promptly assassinated the Hamas ceasefire's negotiator, Ismail Abu Shanab. Hamas, in turn, responded. In return, the Palestinian Authority and Arab states cut funding to its charities and, in September 2003, the EU declared the whole Hamas movement to be a terrorist organization - a longstanding demand of Tel Aviv.

 

What has actually distinguished Hamas in a hopelessly unequal combat is not dispatch of suicide bombers, to which a range of competing groups resorted, but its superior discipline - demonstrated by its ability to enforce a self-declared ceasefire against Israel over the past year. All civilian deaths are to be condemned, but since Israel is their principal practitioner, Euro-American cant serves only to expose those who utter it. Overwhelmingly, the boot of murder is on the other foot, ruthlessly stamped into Palestine by a modern army equipped with jets, tanks and missiles in the longest-armed oppression of modern history.

 

"Nobody can reject or condemn the revolt of a people that has been suffering under military occupation for 45 years against occupation force," said General Shlomo Gazit, former chief of Israeli military intelligence, in 1993. The real grievance of the EU and US against Hamas is that it refused to accept the capitulation of the Oslo Accords, and has rejected every subsequent effort, from Taba to Geneva, to pass off their calamities on the Palestinians. The west's priority ever since was to break this resistance. Cutting off funding to the Palestinian Authority is an obvious weapon with which to bludgeon Hamas into submission. Boosting the presidential powers of Abbas - as publicly picked for his post by Washington, as was Karzai in Kabul - at the expense of the legislative council is another.

 

No serious efforts were made to negotiate with the elected Palestinian leadership. I doubt if Hamas could have been rapidly suborned to western and Israeli interests, but it would not have been unprecedented. Hamas' programmatic heritage remains mortgaged to the most fatal weakness of Palestinian nationalism: the belief that the political choices before it are either rejection of the existence of Israel altogether or acceptance of the dismembered remnants of a fifth of the country. From the fantasy maximalism of the first to the pathetic minimalism of the second, the path is all too short, as the history of Fatah has shown.

 

The test for Hamas is not whether it can be house-trained to the satisfaction of western opinion, but whether it can break with this crippling tradition. Soon after the Hamas election victory in Gaza, I was asked in public by a Palestinian what I would do in their place. "Dissolve the Palestinian Authority" was my response and end the make-believe. To do so would situate the Palestinian national cause on its proper basis, with the demand that the country and its resources be divided equitably, in proportion to two populations that are equal in size - not 80% to one and 20% to the other, a dispossession of such iniquity that no self-respecting people will ever submit to it in the long run. The only acceptable alternative is a single state for Jews and Palestinians alike, in which the exactions of Zionism are repaired. There is no other way.

 

And Israeli citizens might ponder the following words from Shakespeare (in The Merchant of Venice), which I have slightly altered:

 

"I am a Palestinian. Hath not a Palestinian eyes? Hath not a Palestinian hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Jew is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that ... the villainy you teach me, I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction."



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Friday 2 January 2009

A World Without Borders

 

An interview with Howard Zinn

May 2006
 
[This essay is part of the ZNet Classics series. Three times a week we will re-post an article that we think is of timeless importance. This one was first published May, 2006.]

H
oward Zinn, professor emeritus at Boston University, is perhaps this country's premier radical historian. He was an active figure in the civil rights and anti-Vietnam War movements of the 1960s. Today, he speaks all over the country to large and enthusiastic audiences. His book, A People's History of the U.S. continues to sell in huge numbers. His latest work is Original Zinn .  

 

BARSAMIAN: Politicians use history as a kind of mystical element or device. We often hear that the U.S. is called on by history to do certain things in the world. 

ZINN: History is always a good entity to call on if you are hesitant to call on God because they both play the same role. They are both abstractions, they both are actually meaningless until you invest them with meaning. I've noticed that President Bush calls on God a lot. I think he's hesitant to call on history because I think the word history throws him. He's not quite sure what to do with it, but he's more familiar with God. 

 

Political leaders, I guess, suppose that the population is as mystified by the word history as they are by the word God and that they will accept whatever interpretation of history is given to them. So political leaders feel free to declare that history is on their side and the way is open for them to use it in whatever manner they want. 

 

Donald Macedo, in the introduction to On Democratic Education , mentions the Tom Paxton song, "What Did You Learn in School Today?" He quotes a couple of the lyrics."I learned that Washington never told a lie/I learned that soldiers seldom die/I learned that everybody's free." What does a democratic education mean to you? 

 

To me, a democratic education means many things: it means what you learn in the classroom and what you learn outside the classroom. It means not only the content of what you learn, but also the atmosphere in which you learn it and the relationship between teacher and student. All of these elements of education can be democratic or undemocratic. 

 

Students as citizens in a democracy have the right to determine their lives and to play a role in society. A democratic education should give students the kind of information that will enable them to have power of their own in society. What that means is to give students the kind of education that suggests to the students that historically there have been many ways in which ordinary people can play a part in making history, in the development of their society. An education that gives the student examples in history of where people have shown their power in reshaping not only their own lives, but also in how society works. 

 

In the relationship between the student and the teacher there is democracy. The student has a right to challenge the teacher, to express ideas of his or her own. That education is an interchange between the experiences of the teacher, which may be far greater than the student in certain ways, and the experiences of the student, since every student has a unique life experience. So the free inquiry in the classroom, a spirit of equality in the classroom, is part of a democratic education. 

 

It was very important to make it clear to my students that I didn't know everything, that I was not born with the knowledge that I'm imparting to them, that knowledge is acquired and in ways in which the student can acquire also. 

 

How do you as a teacher foster that sense of questioning and skepticism and how do you avoid its going over to cynicism?

 

Skepticism is one of the most important qualities that you can encourage. It arises from having students realize that what has been seen as holy is not holy, what has been revered is not necessarily to be revered. That the acts of the nation which have been romanticized and idealized, those deserve to be scrutinized and looked at critically. 

I remember that a friend of mine was teaching his kids in middle school to be skeptical of what they had learned about Columbus as the great hero and liberator, expander of civilization. One of his students said to him, "Well, if I have been so misled about Columbus, I wonder now what else have I been misled about?" So that is education in skepticism. 

 

When you taught at Spelman College, and later at Boston University, you were teaching kids just coming out of high school. They come with a lot of baggage, a lot of embedded ideas. How difficult was it for you to reach them? 

 

In the case of teaching at Spelman College, my students were African American and I was one of a few white teachers. For most of my students I was the first white teacher they had ever encountered. 

 

I tried to have them realize that my values and ideas were different from those of the white-supremacist society they had grown up in, that I believed in the equality of human beings, and that I took the claims of democracy seriously, not only to try to break down the barrier between us by what I said in the classroom, but by how I behaved toward them, by not indicating that their education had been poor, which it very often was, by not making them feel that they were coming into this classroom handicapped. 

 

Also by showing them that outside the classroom I was involved in the social struggle that related to their lives. When they decided to participate in this struggle and go to Atlanta and try to desegregate the public library or when they decided to follow the example of the four students in Greensboro, North Carolina and sit in, I was with them, I was supporting them, I was helping them, I was walking on picket lines with them, I was engaging in demonstrations with them, I was sitting in with them. More than anything, I tried to create an atmosphere of democracy in our relationship. 

 

You've been a lifelong reader from the time when as a kid you found Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar in the street with the first few pages torn out. Later, your parents got you the complete collection of Charles Dickens's novels. What's the value of reading? 

 

I don't know if my experience agrees with the experience of other people—I have talked to people, young people especially, who would say to me, "This book changed my life." I remember sitting in a cafeteria in Hawaii across from a student at the University of Hawaii and she had a copy of The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Since Alice Walker had been my student at Spelman, I didn't immediately say, "That's my student." I sort of cautiously said, "Oh, you're reading The Color Purple . What do you think of it?" The student said, "This book changed my life." And that startled me, a book that changed your life. 

 

And also, I must say, in all modesty, that I have run into a number of students who have read A People's History of the United States , and who've said, in ways that I first did not believe but I'm almost beginning to believe now, "You know, your book changed my life." 

 

There are books that have changed my life. I think reading Dickens changed my life. Reading Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath changed my life. Reading Upton Sinclair, yes, changed my life. 

 

Today there are debates about the canon and what books are being taught and what topics. There are charges that campuses are run by leftists, by Marxist professors. Is this issue more acute now or does it ebb and flow? 

 

There has always been conflict in the educational world. There has always been scrutiny of what young people learn—scrutiny of their textbooks and teachers—for the simple reason that education has always been dangerous to the establishment, and therefore, the risk that is taken when young people go into the classroom is a risk that the people in charge of the status quo want to watch very carefully. I remember that in 1950, during the McCarthy period, Harold Velde, the congressperson from Illinois, later to become chair of HUAC, opposed a proposal to fund mobile library units to go into rural areas because, he said, "Educating Americans through the means of the library service could bring about a change of their political attitude quicker than any other method. The basis of communism and socialistic influence is education of the people." While I don't think it's quite literally true, I think it is true that education has dangerous possibilities, always has had, and therefore it is guarded very carefully. Attempts to control it have always existed. 
 
Is this a more intense attempt to control the education of young people than we have had in the past? I think that may be so, for one reason. The stakes for the U.S. are higher than they ever were before. With the U.S. seeking to extend its power into more areas of the world, there is an enormous amount at stake for the establishment in bringing up a generation of young people who will accept what the U.S. government does and not be critical of it. 

 

The economist John Kenneth Galbraith once said that the paradox of the U.S. was "private wealth and public squalor." There is a story on page 16 in the New York Times describing how in John Steinbeck's hometown of Salinas, California where they're facing record deficits. The town is closing the three public libraries, including those named for Steinbeck and one for Cesar Chavez.  

 

It's interesting that that item appeared on page 16. It should have appeared on page 1 because it might have alerted more people to what is a horrifying development today. What is happening in Salinas, California, should be a wake-up call. 

 

But this attack on libraries, on schools, is it part of a pattern of undermining the commons? 

Let me interject my own personal note because I grew up in a cockroach-infested tenement in New York and we had no books in our house. I would go to a library in East New York on the corner of Stone and Sutter. I still remember that library. That was my refuge. It was a wonderful eye-opener and mind-opener for me. 

But your question is a larger one. And that is, what is happening to the public commons? That is what Galbraith pointed to when he wrote The Affluent Society . What has been really one of the terrible consequences of the militarization of the country is the starving of the public sector, education, libraries, health, housing. This is why people become socialists. People become socialists in the way that I became a socialist when I read Upton Sinclair and when I read Karl Marx. 

 

There are lots of distortions and misrepresentations attached to Marx. Should people be reading Marx today? 

Yes, but I wouldn't advise them to immediately plunge into Volume II or III of Das Kapital , maybe not even Volume I, which is formidable. But I think The Communist Manifesto , although the title may scare people, is still very much worth reading because what it does is suggest that the capitalist society we have today is not eternal. The Communist Manifesto presents an historical view of the world in which we live. It shows you that societies have evolved from one form to another, one social system to another, from primitive communal societies to feudal societies to capitalist societies. That capitalist society has only come into being in the last few hundreds years and it came into being as a result of the failure of feudal society to deal with the change in technology which was inexorably happening—the commercialization, industrialization, new tools and implements. Capitalist society was able to deal with this new technology and to enhance it enormously. 

 

But what Marx pointed out—and I think this is a very important insight—is that capitalist society, while it's developed the economy in an impressive way, nevertheless did not distribute the results of this enormous production equitably. So Marx pointed to a fundamental flaw in capitalism, a flaw that should be evident to people today, especially in the U.S. Here is this enormously productive and advanced technological country and yet more than forty-five million people are without health insurance, one out of five children grow up in poverty, and millions of people are homeless and hungry. 
 
I think another thing that would be important is Marx's view that when you look beneath the surface of political conflicts or cultural conflicts, you find class conflict. That the important question to ask in any situation is, "Who benefits from this, what class benefits from this?" If Americans understood this Marxian concept of class then, when they went to the polls and they had to choose between the Republican and Democratic Party, they would ask, "Which class does this party represent?" 

 

There was a parade in Taos, New Mexico on February 15, 2003. The lead banner read, "No Flag Is Large Enough to Cover the Shame of Killing Innocent People." That's a quote from you. How is patriotism being used today? 

Patriotism is being used today the way patriotism has always been used and that is to try to encircle everybody in the nation into a common cause, the cause being the support of war and the advance of national power. Patriotism is used to create the illusion of a common interest that everybody in the country has. I just mentioned about the necessity to see society in class terms, to realize that we do not have a common interest in our society, that people have different interests. What patriotism does is to pretend to a common interest. And the flag is the symbol of that common interest. So patriotism plays the same role that certain phrases in our national language play. 

 

The U.S. is the only country in history to use weapons of mass destruction. The year 2005 marked the 60th anniversary of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. That anniversary, incidentally, came amid reports that the U.S. was redesigning atomic weapons that would be sturdier and more reliable and last longer. Where were you when the bombs were dropped and what were your thoughts at the time? 

I remember it very clearly because I had just returned from flying bombing missions in Europe. The war in Europe was over, but the war in Asia with Japan was still on. We flew back to this country in late July 1945. We were given a 30-day furlough before reporting back for duty with the intention that we would then go to the Pacific and continue in the air war against Japan. 

 

We were there waiting at the bus stop and there was this newsstand and the big headline, "Atomic Bomb Dropped on Hiroshima." Because the headline was so big, although I didn't know what an atomic bomb was, I assumed it must be a huge bomb. And my immediate reaction was, well, maybe then I won't have to go to Japan. Maybe this means the end of the war on Japan. So I was happy. 

 

I began to question the bombing of Hiroshima when I read John Hersey's book, Hiroshima , which is based on a series of articles he wrote for the New Yorker . He had gone to Hiroshima after the bombing and spoken to survivors. You can imagine what the survivors looked like—people without arms, legs, blinded, their skin something that you couldn't bear to look at. Hersey spoke to these survivors and wrote down their stories. When I read that, for the first time the effects of bombing on human beings came to me. 

 

I had dropped bombs in Europe, but I had not seen anybody on the ground because when you're bombing from 30,000 feet, you don't see anybody, you don't hear screams, you don't see blood, you don't know what's happening to human beings. When I read John Hersey, it came to me, what bombing did to human beings. That book changed my idea not just about bombing, but it changed my view of war because it made me realize that war now, in our time, in the time of high-level bombing and long-range shelling and death at a distance inevitably means the indiscriminate killing of huge numbers of people and cannot be accepted as a way of solving problems. 

 

You're sometimes described as an anarchist and/or a democratic socialist. Are you comfortable with those terms? And what do they mean to you? 
 
How comfortable I am with those terms depends on who's using them. I'm not uncomfortable when you use them. But if somebody is using them who I suspect does not really know what those terms mean, then I feel uncomfortable because I feel they need clarification. After all, the term anarchist to so many people means somebody who throws bombs, who commits terrorist acts, who believes in violence. Oddly enough, the term anarchist has always applied to individuals who have used violence, but not to governments that use violence. Since I do not believe in throwing bombs or terrorism or violence, I don't want that definition of anarchism to apply to me. 

Anarchism is also misrepresented as being a society in which there is no organization, no responsibility, just a kind of chaos, again, not realizing the irony of a world that is very chaotic, but to which the word anarchism is not applied. 

 

Anarchism to me means a society in which you have a democratic organization of society—decision making, the economy—and in which the authority of the capitalist is no longer there, the authority of the police and the courts and all of the instruments of control that we have in modern society, in which they do not operate to control the actions of people, and in which people have a say in their own destinies, in which they're not forced to choose between two political parties, neither of which represents their interests. So I see anarchism as meaning both political and economic democracy, in the best sense of the term. 

 

I see socialism, which is another term that I would accept comfortably, as meaning not the police state of the Soviet Union. After all, the word socialism has been commandeered by too many people who, in my opinion, are not socialists but totalitarians. To me, socialism means a society that is egalitarian and in which the economy is geared to human needs instead of business profits. 

 

The theme of the World Social Forum, which is held annually, is "Another World Is Possible." If you were to close your eyes for a moment, what kind of world might you envision? 

The world that I envision is one in which national boundaries no longer exist, in which you can move from one country to another with the same ease in which we can move from Massachusetts to Connecticut, a world without passports or visas or immigration quotas. True globalization in the human sense, in which we recognize that the world is one and that human beings everywhere have the same rights. 

 

In a world like that you could not make war because it is your family, just as we are not thinking of making war on an adjoining state or even a far-off state. It would be a world in which the riches of the planet would be distributed in an equitable fashion, where everybody has access to clean water. Yes, that would take some organization to make sure that the riches of the earth are distributed according to human need. 

 

A world in which people are free to speak, a world in which there was a true bill of rights. A world in which people had their fundamental economic needs taken care of would be a world in which people were freer to express themselves because political rights and free speech rights are really dependent on economic status and having fundamental economic needs taken care of. 

 

I think it would be a world in which the boundaries of race and religion and nation would not become causes for antagonism. Even though there would still be cultural differences and still be language differences, there would not be causes for violent action of one against the other. 

 

I think it would be a world in which people would not have to work more than a few hours a day, which is possible with the technology available today. If this technology were not used in the way it is now used, for war and for wasteful activities, people could work three or four hours a day and produce enough to take care of any needs. So it would be a world in which people had more time for music and sports and literature and just living in a human way with others. 

 

You've said that you became a teacher for a very modest reason: "I wanted to change the world." How close have you come to achieving your goal? 

All I can say is, I hope that by my writing and speaking and my activity that I have moved at least a few people towards a greater understanding and moved at least a few people towards becoming more active citizens. So I feel that my contribution, along with the contribution of millions of other people, if they continue, and if they are passed on to more and more people, and if our numbers grow, yes, one day we may very well see the kind of world that I envision.


David Barsamian is director of Alternative Radio (www. alternativeradio.org) and author, with Tariq Ali,  of Speaking of Empire & Resistance


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The Great Indian Chaos Theory


   

Was this the worst year experienced by India (and Indians) since the country was founded? Our annus horribilis?


RAMACHANDRA GUHA
Gripped and horrified by the sixty-hour, commercial-free, non-stop television drama played out recently in south Mumbai, some of us may have overlooked the fact that this was only the last in a series of terror attacks that our country and its people were subjected to in 2008. Before Mumbai, there was Delhi; before Delhi, Ahmedabad; and before that, Bangalore and Jaipur. The cumulative impact of these barbaric acts may have obliterated, from collective memory, the troubles caused in this twelvemonth by the fanatics on the other side. Through several long weeks in the autumn, cadres of the Vishwa Hindu Parishad and the Bajrang Dal attacked villagers in Orissa for having converted to Christianity. As a consequence, some 200 places of worship were destroyed, about forty people killed, and at least fifty thousand rendered homeless.
 
Turn your attention now to the most beautiful state in India where, this past June, several years of peace and (a relative) stability were disturbed and destroyed by a competitive communalism. A few hectares of land asked for by a temple board sparked protests by the residents of the Kashmir Valley; in exchange, the residents of Jammu blocked the highways and paralysed the state administration. The conflict escalated: mass meetings were held in the Valley calling for azadi, mass meetings were held in Jammu demanding justice and self-respect.

 

Lest we forget, 2008 also saw the renewal of sectarian protests based on identities other than religion. The MPs of the Telangana Rashtra Samiti resigned their posts; the cadres of the United Liberation Front of Asom set off a series of bombs. The activities of ULFA and the TRS pale into insignificance in comparison to the activities, also in 2008, of that other parochial body, the Maharashtra Navnirman Samiti. For the Mumbai that the terrorists attacked in November was also the Mumbai which Raj Thackeray and his goons had sought, just a few weeks previously, to purge of 'outsiders' to the city.

 

Move now from the domains of society and religion to the material bases of human existence. The ground here, seemingly sure and solid, was disturbed this past year by the meltdown in the global economy. The collapse of banks on Wall Street had its ripple effect in India too, with the Planning Commission revising its growth estimates downwards, auto companies asking workers to stay at home three days a week, and BPO firms laying off thousands of employees. Indian companies that had ventured into acquisitions abroad saw the prestige of those purchases being undermined by falling prices and profits. Meanwhile, at home, the aam admi was hit by inflation, whose rate had now reached double digits for the first time in more than a decade.

2008 was also the year that Mother Nature played havoc with her Indian children. In the last week of November, many parts of the great city of Chennai found themselves knee-deep in water. Earlier, in August, the same fate had been handed out to many districts of the great state of Bihar. The Kosi river changed course for the first time in more than a century, the overflow covering huge swathes of land with a fast-moving sheet of water, with humans and cattle fleeing in its wake. More than three million people were affected by the floods.

 

For the citizens of India, the calendar year 2008 was marked and scarred by the malign activities of Islamic fanatics, Hindu bigots and linguistic chauvinists; by the arresting of the onward march of the Indian economy; and by cyclones and floods. This listing probably overlooks some other nasty things that took place this past twelvemonth. But even the incomplete evidence offered above begs the question—was this the worst year experienced by India (and Indians) since the country was founded?

 

Speaking as an Indian who has just turned fifty, I can immediately offer one other candidate for that (very dubious) honour—1984, a year that was a nightmare for India at any rate, if not (as George Orwell had once predicted) for the whole world. On January 1, 1984, the Congress government led by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was on the verge of completing four years in office. It was somewhat less than secure, for there was an insurgency on in the Punjab, and a major oppositional movement afoot in Assam. To these angry complaints of peripheral regions were added tensions of caste and class, and a vulnerable economy.

 

On or shortly after New Year's Day the Congress began planning its strategy for re-election. Its best chances, it thought, lay in a departure from its previously non-sectarian politics in favour of a more overtly 'Hindu' image. The prime minister began visiting temples across the country. Then, as the Khalistan movement gathered momentum, troops were sent into the Golden Temple. Two days of bloody battle—fortunately, not covered by live television—led to many hundreds of deaths and the near-destruction of the Akal Takht.

 

Never before had an elected government attacked a place of worship, still less a shrine as holy, and as beautiful, as this one. That was bad enough, but worse was to follow. Four months later, the prime minister was gunned down by her Sikh bodyguards. This act of revenge was immediately followed by another, as mobs led by Congress politicians roamed the streets of Delhi in search of Sikhs to kill. The rioting spread to other cities of northern India. In the end, more than three thousand Sikhs died, all of them innocent of crimes of any kind.

 

As it limped into its last month, the calendar year 1984 had already witnessed three dramatic, dreadful events—the attack on the Golden Temple, the assassination of a serving prime minister, the killings of innocent Sikhs. I remember all three well, and also the fourth that was to follow. On the morning of the December 2, I got married in Bangalore. As my wife and I proceeded to Goa on our honeymoon, news reached us of the gas leak in Bhopal, revealed in time to be the most serious industrial accident of the twentieth century, worse even than Chernobyl, killing more than two thousand Indians and maiming many thousand others.

 

Indira Gandhi's last year in office was tragic for her, and for her country. As it happens, Mrs Gandhi's first twelvemonth as prime minister must also be a front-runner in the race to be considered the 'most horrible of all'. The year 1966 began with the death, through a heart attack suffered in Tashkent, of the prime minister, Lal Bahadur Shastri. In his short time in office, the short-statured Shastri had grown in assurance and credibility. He had led India commandingly in a war provoked by Pakistan, he had laid the seeds of the Green Revolution, and he had taken steps to liberalise the economy.

 

When Shastri died in January, Indira Gandhi was chosen by the Congress bosses to replace him. She did not at first inspire confidence. Although immaculately groomed, she had little previous experience in government.She had a fine command of English as well as Hindi, but was little inclined (at least in public) to exercise it, so much so that the combination of her silence and her (sartorial) elegance led the socialist politician Ram Manohar Lohia to dub her a goongi gudiya (dumb doll). But then no doll, dumb or otherwise, has had to face as stern a test as Mrs Gandhi did in her first months in office. A check-list of select events in 1966 follows:

 

February: The Mizo National Front launches an armed uprising against Indian rule. Banks are looted, offices burnt, roads blocked. One town is captured and another threatened. The army is called in, followed by the air force; thus, for the first time since Independence, the Indian state uses air power against its own people.

March: A tribal rebellion in Bastar is quelled by the use of force—forty adivasis die in police firing, among them their venerated former maharaja, Pravir Chandra Bhanj Deo.

March, again: Successive failures of the monsoon lead to starvation deaths in the countryside. There are food riots in India's most populous city, Calcutta. In desperation, the prime minister goes to Washington to ask for aid in the form of wheat. The mission is captured in one American newspaper headline: 'New Indian Leader Comes Begging'. Meanwhile, the sorrow and the succour are captured at home in the only joke ever known to have been made by an Indian economist, which is that the country was now leading 'a ship-to-mouth existence'.

April: The peace talks between Naga rebels and the Indian government break down. The insurgents return to the jungle, only to re-emerge to blast trains and assassinate officials.

June: The foreign exchange reserves are so seriously depleted that the government is forced to devalue the rupee, an act considered by its critics to be an admission of national failure, since the devaluation came close on the heels of the begging for food, and since it was undertaken on the advice—or the orders—of the International Monetary Fund.

November: Angry sadhus calling for a ban on cow slaughter hold a massive meeting on the Boat Club lawns in New Delhi. One swami, even angrier than the rest, calls for the crowd to storm Parliament. The holy men make for the gates, but are stopped by the police. They then turn their wrath on passers-by and on property. Some 500 vehicles go up in flames, also the house of the Congress president and the guard room of All India Radio. For the first time since 1947, the army is called out to restore order in the capital.

 

Mrs Gandhi's first year in office was marked by a series of unfortunate events, and so also the first full calendar year that her father, Jawaharlal Nehru, served as prime minister. The year 1948 began with attacks by Hindu extremists on Muslims in Delhi and the Punjab, in revenge for attacks on minorities in what was now Pakistan. The Father of the Nation, Mahatma Gandhi, went on fast to help restore communal amity. For this noble and heroic act, he was murdered by a former member of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh. The nation was stunned and the fanatics shamed, for they now retreated into the margins. Their place was taken by the extremists on the other side. In the first week of March 1948, and acting on the orders of their Soviet masters, the Communist Party of India launched an armed insurrection against the Indian state.

 

I was not alive in 1948, but reading the newspapers of the time I sense that this must have been a very dark year indeed. This young and vulnerable nation was challenged by radicals of the left and right. There was a war on in Kashmir. Then a fourth obstacle presented itself. This was the princely state of Hyderabad which, unlike five hundred others of its ilk, was refusing to join the Indian Union.Now that would have been the end of the idea of India—for the territory of Hyderabad extended across the heart of the subcontinent, separating north India from the south.

 

To judge how bad 1948 must have been, consider this excerpt from a letter written in that year by the last British commander-in-chief of the Indian army, General Claude Auchinleck: 'The Sikhs may try to set up a separate regime. I think they probably will and that will be only a start of a general decentralisation and break-up of the idea that India is a country, whereas it is a subcontinent as varied as Europe. The Punjabi is as different from a Madrassi as a Scot is from an Italian. The British tried to consolidate it but achieved nothing permanent. No one can make a nation out of a continent of many nations.'

 

To the very many Indians reeling under the impact of the tragic events of 2008, let me offer this consolation—that there have been some other very bad years, too. 1984 and 1966 and 1948 were likewise peppered with violence and murder, and by riots and rebellions. Then we must also consider those years where a single event may have been momentous enough to undermine one's faith in the ideals of the Republic. I think here of 1962, an otherwise placid year marred by the humiliating defeat in the border war with China; of 1975, a year when India, for the first and hopefully the last time, was brought under the authoritarian rule of a single party run by a single family; of 1992, when the destruction of a medieval mosque and the riots that followed called into question the secular and plural ideals of the Indian Constitution; and of 2002, when a pogrom against Muslims was conducted by the Gujarat administration with the complicity of the central government, the event and its aftermath shaming India in the eyes of the world.

 

Here, then, is a listing of the bad and the very bad years experienced by India in the sixty years since independence: 1948, 1962, 1966, 1975, 1984, 1992, 2002, 2008. Which of these was the very worst? It is hard to give an unambiguous answer, for three reasons. The first is the imperfect state of our knowledge, the flawed powers of recall of the historian as much as of the citizen. Had Outlook given me 30,000 words instead of 3,000, this essay might have made for more mournful reading still—with many more unfortunate and tragic events described, with yet other calendar years being offered as likely candidates for the title of the 'worst ever'.

 

A second reason why I prefer not to pick one year above (or below) the rest is that, in such a choice, bias and prejudice must always play some part. The Indian for whom secularism is the most important binding value of the Republic will tend to think of 1992 and 2002 as being the worst of all years. The Indian motivated by a dislike of the Nehru-Gandhis might instead choose 1962 or 1975. The admirer of Mahatma Gandhi might cast his vote for the year in which the greatest of all Indians was murdered. Indian citizens of the Sikh faith may have the darkest memories of 1984.

 

The third reason why any singular choice must be contentious lies in the method being followed here. Because the media—and the electronic media even more so—tends to privilege spectacular, dramatic events, the citizen chooses to do so too. However, behind and beyond the killings and the bomb blasts lie very many less visible sufferings and tragedies. To speak only of this past year, 2008, even if the fidayeen had not targeted Mumbai, the MNS not targeted Biharis, and the VHP not targeted Christians, there would still have been millions of Indians without access to safe drinking water, decent schools and hospitals, and a fair living wage.Had these dramas not been played out in front of television screens, in homes and localities across the land there would still have been women abused and violated, Dalits and tribals harassed and victimised, slum-dwellers evicted, and beggars turned away. Had no gunmen entered the Taj on the night of 26th November, farmers plagued by debt and crop failure would still be killing themselves in the villages of Maharashtra.

 

This, indeed, may be the most significant reason why one must refuse to single out one particular year as more dreadful than the rest. For, in constructing an index of 'Gross National Unhappiness', the trials of daily life must necessarily count as much as the dislocations and deaths caused by extraordinary happenings such as terrorist strikes. However, given the variability of these different events and processes, and the impossibility of measuring them in quantitative terms, our index must remain hypothetical. I suspect that even the combined talents of Albert Einstein and Srinivasa Ramanujam would have found it impossible to accurately compute a Gross National Unhappiness index for a single year, let alone so many.

 

Who is to say which of the sixty years since India became independent has been the worst of all? Not this historian, at any rate. You may call this cowardice; I prefer to think of it as prudence. Suffice it to say that in our short career as a nation we have had quite some bad years and a few disastrous ones too. By my reckoning, we have had at least eight years that live on in public memory for the wrong reasons, for having been witness to crimes against individuals and communities of a scale that deserve that telling epithet, 'inhuman'.

 

Reflecting on that very troubled decade, the 1980s, a decade marked by caste wars and communal conflicts and many other nasty things besides, the sociologist Ashis Nandy remarked that 'In India the choice could never be between chaos and stability, but between manageable and unmanageable chaos, between humane and inhuman anarchy, and between tolerable and intolerable disorder'. I disagree with Nandy about many things, but think he has it exactly right here. For, as I have argued elsewhere, India is both an unnatural nation as well as an unlikely democracy. Never before has a single political unit been constructed from such disparate and diverse parts. Never before was a largely illiterate population given the right to choose its own rulers.

 

For India to be both united and untroubled would be a miracle. For it to be both democratic and free of conflict would be doubly so. Thus, in the 1940s, we overcame the crisis of Partition by forging a democratic and federal Constitution. No sooner had the nation observed its first Republic Day than it was confronted by oppositional movements based on language. When we contained and tamed these—by creating linguistic states—our unity was freshly imperilled by the Naga insurgency. Then, in the 1960s, anti-Hindi protests in Tamil Nadu and the rise of Naxalism in West Bengal and Andhra Pradesh posed fresh questions to the idea of India. In the 1970s we were subjected to the Emergency; and, when we came out of that, to separatist movements in Assam and the Punjab. The 1990s saw the sharpening of caste and religious identities, a process that unleashed conflicts and animosities that, when I last looked, had scarcely abated. And through these six decades there has remained the problem of the Kashmir Valley—was it, could it, must it be properly part of the Republic of India?

The history of independent India is one of fires being lit, doused, and then lit again. Seduced by the surge in some sectors of the economy, sections of the Indian elite (the media elite included) have taken our unity and our democracy for granted, and made a claim to be heard on the high tables of the world.In their eagerness to be seen as the spokespersons of a coming superpower, they have neglected the fissures and tensions within their own society.

 

If sections of the (so to say) thinking classes have been guilty of a premature internationalism, sections of our political elite have lapsed, meanwhile, into a malevolent parochialism. The parish is constituted variously: for the bjp it is the upper-caste Hindu; for the Congress it is the interests of the dynasty; for the lesser parties it is Indians of a particular caste or language group. Even at a time of national calamity these groups have not found it possible to suppress their sectarian affiliations (or personal ambitions) in favour of the public good. In the aftermath of the attack on Mumbai, Priyanka Gandhi was silly to claim that what the nation needed to combat terror was the spirit of that experienced instigator and provoker of extremism, Indira Gandhi. And it was despicable of Narendra Modi to attempt to bribe the widow of a police officer he had, just the past week, so unfairly abused.

 

As an unnatural nation and an unlikely democracy, India was never destined for a smooth ride. It is not, and can never be, Sweden or Norway— that is to say, a small, mostly homogeneous country with little crime, less violence, and very few poor people.

 
That said, 2008 was, even by our standards, a truly horrible year for Indians. The task before us now is not to put this past twelvemonth behind us, but rather to learn, from what happened then, to more sensitively manage the tensions and conflicts within. The premature internationalists must set aside their concern—perhaps one should say 'obsession'—with the number of Indian billionaires in the Forbes list, the number of nuclear weapons we own, and the memberships of international bodies we covet. The parochialists, for their part, might think of working to moderate conflicts of language, caste and religion, rather than—as is their wont—seeking to intensify them. Were this to happen, we may yet succeed in making 2009 a year in which the Indian chaos shall be manageable, the Indian anarchy, humane, and the Indian disorder, tolerable.





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