Can we Separate Prejudice From Cultural Difference?

One of the unmistakable features of populism is its ability to wedge open narratives that lie unresolved in the bylanes of history. It disallows any easy covering up of uncomfortable ‘truths’ even as it generates falsity and crude homogenisation of popular narratives. The question of majoritarianism cannot be addressed without addressing the associated question of the beliefs and practices of minority religious communities in India.

Hegemony of the Right is imposed not just through propaganda, falsity and force but taking advantage of the silences in the narrative of those opposed to communal polarisation. Merely harping on parallel narratives that are ‘purely’ secular have not succeeded in holding back the appeal of the polarised narratives creating a rage against religious minority in the popular domain. The question that has grown louder and that needs to be answered is: Is the Indian Muslim secular? Is it fair to demand and interrogate the belief systems, prejudices and anxieties of the majority Hindu community without interrogating the practices and popular beliefs of the religious minorities?

What is the secularists’ understanding of the average Muslim on the street? Is he secular? Does he believe in communal harmony, religious cosmopolitanism, and does he have respect for other religions? Is he tolerant by choice or out of compulsion of his numerical weakness and social backwardness? The secular discourse in India has shied away from addressing these questions head on.

Instead, it found a more serendipitous route of avoiding, postponing or producing a parallel narrative that makes a case for complexity and heterogeneity that still do not address the question that might be lingering on in the minds of majority Hindus. This is somewhat akin to the way secular historians have confronted communal history writing. Historian Neeladri Bhattacharya in his essay on Predicaments of Secular Histories raises this significant question: Do the interventions of secular historians adequately answer the questions and anxieties in the popular domain or do they take recourse to easy or unviable response of separating the political from either academics or the business of knowledge production? Can Muslim ‘invasions’ be easily reduced to ‘greed and lust for power’ and not religious fanaticism with regard to Muslim rulers, such as Mumhad Ghazni and Aurangzeb? Can we argue the question of their intention, even if it is difficult to establish in history, as irrelevant to the way majority Hindus have come to perceive the Muslims? Bhattacharya asks: “Can the narrative of religion and power in pre-modern times be so easily separated?” Even if one manages to do that to produce a more sanitised secular narrative, will it hold an appeal and capture the popular imagination? If it does not, as is perhaps getting evident in the past few decades, how do we approach the issue without leading to further demonisation or rage against Muslims.

In the domain of popular politics, well meaning social activists, in my experience refuse to address the question, for reasons that are fairly understandable. They either argue majority communalism is different from minority communalism. The first can lead to fascism, but the latter can pose no such overt threat. Or the other option, would be, Muslims are already persecuted, what do we gain by raising such questions? Also, would it be the case that one would never get a final or a decisive answer to such generalised questions?

History and politics are complex, diverse and heterogeneous. None of these answers are invalid, but are certainly inadequate. Would it be fair to argue that, at least partially, the Right in India has grown out of these silences. They gain their hegemony to exaggerate the implications of these beliefs and practices within the Muslim community. This also robs the secular narrative of the option to initiate a secularised critique and push for social reform within the Muslim community. It only allows them to frame all of these as ‘internal’ to the Muslim community, and those belonging to the majority have no business in carrying the burden of reforming Muslims. This is similar to the arguments of the `white-man’s burden` that justified colonialism. In any case, they would argue that Muslims are heterogeneous and you would get no sensible answer to a crassly generalised question on whether Muslims are secular.

Even more damaging has been our collective inability to discuss minority communalism? What does it look like and what does it constitute? How do we differentiate communalism and prejudices of the minorities from questions of cultural recognition and group differences? How do we unpack when prejudice is integral to the constitution of difference? How do we frame the question with those Muslims who believe in the superiority and finality of their religion over all other religions? Or should a Muslim actively take part in religious celebrations of Hindu festivals, as is the practice in states such as Bengal and Kerala. It is easy to lodge a critique of jihadi elements or mullahs and maulvis, but the question here is about the Muslim on the street.

The strategy of the Bharatiya Janata Party-Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh combine is clear. They would peg on such differences, exaggerate the tension and conflict such beliefs involve and internally divide Muslims and consolidate Hindus into a monolithic whole, while secular politics is stuck in suspended animation. It is, perhaps, more instructive to raise the question of prejudices among Muslims more directly, even if they have religious or scriptural sanction in Islam. All religious texts are hermeneutic in nature and are always open to re-interpretation. There cannot be a permanent closure.

In a democracy, when prejudice and violence of the majority finds political articulation, it is impendent not to sidestep the questions that lie unanswered on the other side of the religious divide. As long as we continue to do this, the Right will manage to criminalise the unsaid and force us into a collective silence, which will again find its traces in secular discourse itself mapping and imitating the Hindu Right.

Congress today is witnessing this crisis in proactively taking up the issue of gowshalas in Madhya Pradesh, and party president Rahul Gandhi taking recourse to overt Hindu symbolism in his repeated temple visits and going silent on the Muslim question. The shift in Congress on the Muslim question in its recent manifesto is a case in point and Congress’ position on Shah Bano case in 1984 has had a somewhat direct influence on where Congress stands today on the Muslim question. This, of course, will involve the ominous possibility of further othering of the Muslims, only if they refuse to ‘internally’ address the issue of prejudice amongst their religious fellow travelers.

The writer is with the Centre for Political Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, Delhi. He recently authored the book, ‘India after Modi: Populism and the Right’. The views are personal.