The Indian Constituent Assembly, a body of elected representatives tasked with drafting the Indian Constitution after India gained independence from British rule in 1947, modeled the Indian Union legislature after the British “sovereign” Parliament, making Parliament the supreme legislative body in India. This decision prevented the Supreme Court, the highest judicial authority in India, from having equal status with Parliament. The Assembly designed the SC to be a weak, subordinate institution. The Indian Constitution, under Article 368, allowed Parliament to override SC judgments by making constitutional amendments. This arrangement ensured that the SC could not challenge Parliament’s decisions effectively.

Indian legal tradition inherited the British approach of Austinian Positivism, a legal theory associated with the British philosopher John Austin, which focused strictly on formal legal rules and interpretations. This approach placed too much emphasis on adhering to strict legal formalism, rather than considering broader moral or social concerns, further limiting the flexibility of Indian jurisprudence and weakening the role of the SC.

When the SC began its work in 1950, it did not receive strong support from the public. Many viewed it as an elitist institution with no clear mandate from the people. This perception worsened after the SC’s early clashes with the government in the 1960s and 1970s. In response, the Indian Parliament used its power to amend the Constitution to limit the SC’s influence. Parliament introduced several changes, including the Ninth Schedule and Articles 31B and 31C, along with the 24th, 25th and 29th Amendments. These amendments allowed Parliament to bypass minor delays caused by the SC’s judicial reviews, encouraging the SC to avoid directly challenging the central government.

The SC’s landmark Kesavananda Bharti case (1973), which established the Basic Structure Doctrine, limited Parliament’s ability to amend the Constitution. However, this ruling led to hostility from the executive branch. The government responded by superseding senior judges when appointing the Chief Justice of India and strategically filling the Court with judges who were more sympathetic to the government’s views.

The Emergency

The Emergency period (1975-77) saw a further increase in the government’s power. This was a turbulent and controversial time when Prime Minister Indira Gandhi declared a state of emergency across the country, citing internal disturbances. The government used this period to consolidate power and curtail political opposition. During the Emergency, civil liberties were suspended, and a number of democratic practices were suppressed, including censorship of the press and the imprisonment of political leaders. The executive branch, led by the Prime Minister, was able to operate with increased authority, while the judiciary, particularly the Supreme Court, faced pressures that limited its independence.

The 40th, 41st and 42nd Constitutional Amendment Acts played a pivotal role in altering the balance of power between the branches of government. These amendments were designed to limit the scope of judicial review, reducing the Court’s ability to challenge government actions and decisions. One of the most controversial measures during the Emergency was the Maintenance of Internal Security Act (MISA), which allowed the government to detain individuals without trial. MISA was often used to suppress political dissent by imprisoning opposition leaders, activists, and anyone deemed a threat to the government’s authority.

The Supreme Court’s failure to intervene against the government’s use of preventive detention and other authoritarian measures during this time significantly damaged its credibility. Its reluctance to challenge abuses under MISA, notably in cases like that of Shiv Kant Shukla, who was detained under the Act, led to widespread criticism. In these cases, the Court largely upheld the actions of the government, failing to protect the civil liberties of citizens. This contributed to a perception of the judiciary as a “regime court”—an institution that not only failed to defend fundamental rights but also seemed complicit in supporting the government’s authoritarian agenda. The Emergency period, thus, marked a period of heightened executive power, limited judicial independence and widespread repression of political freedoms.

After the Emergency

The post-Emergency era ushered in a new age of judicial activism in India. During this time, the Supreme Court played an active role in shaping public policy and ensuring government accountability. A key development in this period was the rise of Public Interest Litigations (PILs), which allowed citizens and organizations to file cases on behalf of public causes. This expanded the reach of the judiciary and increased public access to the courts, making it easier for individuals to seek judicial intervention in matters of public concern.

In an attempt to restore public trust and confidence in the judiciary, the SC broadened the interpretation of Article 32 of the Indian Constitution. Article 32 guarantees the right to constitutional remedies, allowing individuals to approach the SC if they believe their fundamental rights have been violated. By expanding this article’s interpretation, the SC widened the scope of locus standi, which refers to the legal standing or right to bring a case to court. Traditionally, only those directly affected by an issue had the standing to file a case, but the SC’s interpretation allowed both private and public interests to seek judicial relief. This meant that citizens, social organizations or even associations could now bring cases to the court on behalf of the general public.

In what can be described as a “classic Marbury move” (referring to the landmark Marbury v. Madison case in the United States, which established the principle of judicial review), the SC’s S.P. Gupta v. Union of India verdict in 1981 endorsed the standing for PILs. This case marked a shift in the Court’s approach, as it allowed public interest cases to be brought before the judiciary even if the petitioner was not directly affected. Following this, in Fertilizer Corporation Kamgar Union v. Union of India (1981), the SC assumed new roles of oversight and accountability, holding national and state entities to higher standards. The judgment established that citizens could challenge government actions and policies that were in violation of the public good.

By putting the PIL system into operation, the SC allowed all cases filed by citizens or organizations to be heard, even if they were not directly impacted by the issue at hand. This significantly broadened the scope of the judiciary’s involvement in public welfare and reinforced the judiciary’s role in ensuring government accountability.

Expansion of PILs

Throughout the 1980s, the Supreme Court of India significantly expanded its powers in Public Interest Litigation, which allowed the Court to take proactive actions in cases that concerned the public welfare. The SC introduced a concept in the Hussainara Khatoon v. State of Gujarat case, which became known as “remedies without rights.” This innovative approach allowed the SC to issue mandamus (orders requiring the government to act) in PIL cases without providing a conclusive verdict, allowing the Court to maintain continuous oversight in these cases. This flexibility made it possible for the SC to address social issues more effectively, even without the usual formalities of concluding a case.

In another landmark case, Bandhua Mukti Morcha v. Union of India, the SC further expanded access to justice by relaxing the standing requirements for filing PILs. The SC began accepting letters from individuals, social groups or any third-party litigant as legal petitions, thus allowing broader participation in the judicial process. This helped increase the Court’s role in addressing social justice issues, especially those affecting marginalized groups.

The SC also asserted its authority over the judicial appointment process. In the First Judges Case the SC had ruled that the executive had the final say in judicial appointments. However, in the Third Judges Case, the SC reversed this decision and established that the judiciary itself would have control over appointing judges. This decision greatly strengthened the independence of the judiciary in India.

During this period, the SC became more assertive in addressing corruption and maladministration. In the Jain Hawala Bribery Case, the SC took a strong stance in tackling corruption, even as it faced political pressure. The SC also played a critical role in protecting the right to information in cases such as Association of Democratic Reforms v. Union of India. In this case, the SC upheld the right of voters to access information about the criminal and financial records of candidates running for Parliament or state legislatures, ensuring transparency in the electoral process.

The SC further defended the right to information in the case of People’s Union for Civil Liberties (PUCL) v. Union of India, a case which also led the Court to declare the right to food as an integral part of Article 21 of the Indian Constitution. Article 21 guarantees the right to life and personal liberty, and the SC’s decision broadened its scope to include the right to adequate food, emphasizing the state’s responsibility to ensure citizens’ basic needs are met.

In cases related to environmental protection, such as the Godavarman Case, the SC took on a quasi-administrative role. The Court set up a high-powered committee to act as its fact-finding arm in overseeing forest conservation efforts. This led some scholars to refer to the SC as a virtual Ministry of Forests, highlighting its increasingly active role in policy matters beyond traditional judicial functions.

Additionally, the SC took a leading role in human rights protection and played an essential part in police reforms. In the Prakash Singh verdict (2006), the Court issued directives for reforming police institutions to ensure accountability, transparency and the protection of citizens’ rights.

In RK Garg v. Union of India, the SC upheld the Special Bearer Bond (Immunities and Exceptions) Ordinance Act of 1981, which allowed the government to combat black money in the economy. The SC ruled that the Act did not violate Article 14 of the Constitution, which guarantees equality before the law and equal protection of the law. This decision supported the government’s efforts to curb illegal wealth and improve financial transparency.

Despite the Supreme Court’s growing activism, it did not undermine parliamentary supremacy, even as it carved out a more active role in governance. While the SC became a key player in shaping public policy, it still avoided directly challenging the central government. The SC adopted a selective approach to assertiveness, supporting key government policies when needed. During the 1980s, the SC upheld the socialist-statist policies of the Congress Party, which was in power at the time. These policies emphasized state control over the economy and social welfare programs. Later, in 1991, when the P.V. Narasimha Rao government introduced liberalization, privatization, and globalization (often referred to as the LPG reforms), the SC did not challenge these pro-market reforms but instead supported their implementation. This marked a shift from state control to a more market-driven economy, with the SC playing a supportive, rather than confrontational, role in the changes.

The decline of Parliament

In the 1990s, the Indian Parliament became increasingly incapacitated due to the decline of one-party dominance, the rise of regional parties, the birth of coalition politics and a series of weak coalition governments. This shift in the political landscape allowed the Supreme Court to shed its previous criticisms as a regime court. With Parliament’s diminished power and authority, the SC took a more active role in governance.

The SC used Public Interest Litigations as a tool to assume new oversight and accountability functions, intervening whenever governmental institutions, including Parliament, violated or failed to uphold the Constitution and laws of India. The SC began to act as a central, prominent and active player in decision-making for both state and national entities.

As the apex court of India, the Supreme Court played a pivotal role in policymaking, defending civil and human rights and protecting vulnerable groups in society. It expanded educational rights, recognizing access to education as a fundamental right, and provided interim relief to poor prisoners while initiating reforms to improve prison conditions. The Court asserted the rights of prisoners and marginalized populations, ensuring their rights were respected. It introduced development and affirmative action policies to uplift disadvantaged communities and worked to curb state repression of human rights, holding the government accountable for violations. In the landmark Maneka Gandhi case, the Court expanded the interpretation of fundamental rights, broadening the protection of personal freedoms. Additionally, the Court addressed the issue of bonded labor, aiming to eliminate forced labor in India, and played a significant role in enforcing environmental policies, handling key cases like the Delhi Pollution Case, the Taj Mahal Pollution Case, and the Shriram Fertilizer Case, which tackled industrial pollution and its harmful environmental effects.

In these ways, the SC recognized its growing influence and power, becoming a crucial institution in protecting rights, holding the government accountable and shaping public policy.

SLPs and the judicialization of governance

The judicialization of governance in India reflects the journey of the Supreme Court, which evolved from a court struggling to assert its relevance to one that plays a central role in political and policy discussions in India. This transformation has made the SC a key player in shaping the country’s laws and governance. However, this evolution is not without its complications. One of the key challenges faced by the assertive SC is its failure at self-restraint—the difficulty in balancing its expansive jurisdiction with the need for institutional efficiency.

Raeesa Vakil, a lawyer and legal commentator, discusses this issue in her contribution titled “Jurisdiction” in The Oxford Handbook of the Indian Constitution. Vakil expresses concern over the SC’s broadening role, pointing out the blatant imbalance in its jurisdiction. This refers to the SC’s increasing involvement in both policymaking and governance, sometimes stepping into areas traditionally handled by the executive and legislature. Vakil questions whether the Court’s expanding power is in line with its constitutional mandate or whether it undermines the principle of separation of powers among the branches of government.

The Supreme Court, as the apex court of India’s unified and integrated judiciary, holds a central position in the country’s legal system. It exercises appellate jurisdiction over a range of cases, including constitutional cases, civil cases and criminal cases. These cases typically involve appeals from lower courts, where individuals or organizations seek to challenge or review lower court rulings.

When the Constituent Assembly established the Supreme Court, it imposed strict restrictions on the types of cases the Court could hear. The primary concern was that if the Court had too broad a jurisdiction, it could become overwhelmed by appeals and ultimately collapse under the weight of the caseload. These restrictions were designed to act as filters, ensuring that the Supreme Court would only hear certain cases, including civil cases involving significant financial stakes, criminal cases involving a death sentence due to the severity and finality of such judgments, constitutional cases that raised important legal questions or impacted the public interest and cases certified by the High Courts for their importance.

In general, not all appeals have the automatic right to a hearing in the SC. The Court has discretion to choose which cases to entertain based on the above criteria.

Curiously, despite the SC’s original jurisdiction, appeals have come to form the core of its jurisprudence. A disproportionate amount of the SC’s caseload consists of Special Leave Petitions (SLP), which allow individuals or organizations to appeal a decision made by any lower court or tribunal in India. Shockingly, 88% of the cases heard by the SC are SLPs, highlighting the Court’s heavy reliance on its appellate role, rather than its original jurisdiction.

Over time, the Special Leave Petition has become a way for litigants to bypass the strict restrictions on appeals to the Supreme Court, allowing them to raise their grievances in the highest court in the land. This loophole has allowed more cases to reach the SC, despite the original limitations set by the Constituent Assembly to prevent the Court from becoming overwhelmed. Additionally, Parliament has gradually relaxed the qualifications for filing an SLP. For example, the 30th Amendment Act of 1972 removed the pecuniary threshold for civil cases, making it easier for civil appeals that raise substantial questions of law and public importance to be heard by the SC. Similarly, the Enlargement of Criminal Appellate Jurisdiction Act, 1970 allowed all criminal cases resulting in a life sentence or imprisonment for more than ten years to automatically proceed to the SC.

Inefficiency within the Court

However, the intention to reduce the number of appeals through SLP has largely failed. This is because the SC has been unwilling to impose any restrictions on the SLP process, despite the burden of managing its vast jurisdiction. The SC has consistently defended the SLP process in an increasingly exaggerated manner, treating it as an “untrammeled” source of power that cannot be confined by clear definitions. The SC has resisted attempts to define the nature and scope of Article 136, which governs the SLP process, or to establish standard guidelines for the exercise of discretion in accepting or rejecting SLPs.

Moreover, Supreme Court jurisprudence has been shaped by the practice of division benches—two or more judges working together on a case. This system has led to a legacy of uncoordinated judgments, marked by inconsistency and discrepancies in the interpretation of law. As a result, the application of legal principles has been erratic, often influenced by emotional subjectivity when deciding whether to admit appeals under Article 136. This has led to arbitrary decision-making, with the criteria for accepting cases constantly evolving in unpredictable ways.

The absence of clear guidelines for how the SC should exercise its discretion in Special Leave Petitions has caused significant problems. Instead of maintaining its original purpose as a measure of last resort, the SLP process has become a normalized part of SC jurisprudence, with many cases routinely passing through the Court without sufficient restraint or consistent standards.The unequal expansion of the Supreme Court’s jurisdiction has significantly contributed to the 300-year backlog of cases in the Court. While there has been much debate over the need for systemic reforms to address the burdens and structural issues of the SC, the judicial backlog is also a result of the jurisdictional imbalance in the Court’s role. In retrospect, the SC’s unwillingness to place limits on the number of petitions it hears has led to a loss of credibility in the judgments made by both higher courts and subordinate courts.

If parties involved in legal disputes can appeal to the SC for even the most trivial matters, what prevents someone from taking a menial issue all the way to the Court? The wide scope of the SC’s appellate jurisdiction—which allows it to have final authority to overturn decisions from lower courts—has left the subordinate courts with little power or control over their rulings.

In hindsight, the SC’s reluctance to better regulate its own jurisdiction has allowed it to maintain control over the entire judicial system in India, expanding its influence over national governance. However, this approach has also led to significant inefficiencies within the judiciary, as the SC becomes burdened with a massive number of appeals, leading to delays and a lack of timely justice.

While the Supreme Court’s ascendancy in governance has strengthened democracy and the system of checks and balances in India, the Court’s institutional insecurities regarding its hard-fought and hard-earned position have made it reluctant to reduce its jurisdiction. The SC’s failure to self-restrain is largely a result of the historical struggle it faced to gain a position of influence in the Indian government, especially in the context of the Westminster model of governance. In this environment, the SC had to fight for its independence and its role as a powerful institution. As a result, the SC’s growing pro-people activist stance—focusing on public welfare and rights—has come at the cost of its ability to function efficiently and manage its workload without being overwhelmed.

[Kaitlyn Diana edited this piece]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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Nathdwara became a unique centre, its rituals and traditions remaining virtually unchanged for over 300 years. Until recently it was in a time capsule, maintaining artistic traditions that had vanished from the Rajput courts. It was the archive for the styles and techniques of the courtly painting studios of Rajasthan as well as the home to its own unbroken artistic tradition for over three centuries. There were hundreds of artists from the Jangir and Adi Gaur castes dedicated to serving the temple and providing painted icons for the pilgrimage trade.

Until the seventeenth century Nathdwara (Door to the Lord) was only a remote dusty village called Sinhar in the state of Mewar. It soared to fame when Shrinathji and his followers, threatened by the rise to power of the iconoclastic Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb, fled Krishna’s sacred homeland of Braj and sought refuge in Rajasthan. It is said that the Maharana of Mewar with a retinue of 100,000 warriors went out to escort Shrinathji personally to his capital of Sesodias but that the bullock cart carrying Krishna became bogged down in the mud in the small village of Sinhar. It was taken as a sign that Shrinathji had selected this spot along the Banas River as a haven.

It is debatable whether the Vallabhacharis, so named for their guru Vallabhacharya (VS 1535-1587; 1478-1530 CE), fled the area out of fear of persecution or whether they made a judicious decision to resettle in Rajasthan. It is possible that the uncertainty caused by Aurangzeb’s threats reduced the pilgrimage trade and affected the temple revenue. The Shrinathji ki Prakatya Varta records that Aurangzeb’s messenger delivered an ultimatum to Vallabha’s grandsons that ‘either the fakir of Gokul show some miracle or leave the Mughal Empire. This rude warning must have come as a shock. Prior to Aurangzeb’s reign the Vallabhacharis had enjoyed Mughal favours and were protected by several firmans issued by Akbar and Shah Jahan that gave them grazing rights over the land stretching from Gokul to the whole district of Mahaban. In addition, they enjoyed the privilege of being exempt from taxation. It is debatable whether they fled or simply decided to reestablish the sect in the land of wealthy Rajasthani maharajas whom they had cultivated as devotees. E. Allen Richardson argues that Maharana Raj Singh of Udaipur, beginning in 1665, with the gift of the village of Asotiya in Mewar to two goswamis, was preparing a place for the Vallabha Sampraday and that Maharana Raj Singh foresaw the economic and social benefits of bringing the popular sect to Mewar.

Among the Vallabhacharis there is a story that explains the situation without tarnishing their relationship with the Mughals. On one of his missions, Vitthalnathji (VS 1572-1642; 1515-1585 CE), the son of Vallabhacharya, had visited Sinhar where he initiated into the sect one Ajabkurivar, the sister-in-law of the legendary Bhakti poetess Mirabai. Ajabkunvar became so passionately attached to Shrinathji that she asked him to visit her every night. Shrinathji granted her wish and came every evening, traversing hundreds of miles from Braj, to play with her his favourite parcheesi-like game of chaupar. Finally, seeing him red-eyed and exhausted from his travels, Ajabkunvar requested Shrinathji to settle in Mewar permanently. Shrinathji replied that it was not possible for him to do so now but that he would in the future after the time of Vallabhacharya and Vitthalnathji. In 1669 when the persecution grew acute, Vitthalnathji and Vallabhacharya had both passed away. It was time for the promise to be fulfilled. The bullock chariot carrying Shrinathji reached Sinhar in VS 1728 (1671 CE) and it came to rest beneath a pipal tree where Ajabkunvar’s house had been located. It was to be Shrinathji’s new home. Tradition holds that Shrinathji’s shrine is the only one in the sect with a tiled roof in imitation of Ajabkunvar’s house.

Interestingly the account of the move in the Shrinathji ki Prakatya Varta records none of the pomp that James Tod describes in his Annals of Rajasthan. According to Harirai (b. 1590), author of the Shrinathji ki Prakatya Varta, and a member of one of the thirty-six families that accompanied Shrinathji to Rajasthan, the move was done as quietly as possible. Perhaps it was the Maharana of Mewar who wanted to make a great show of Shrinathji’s arrival whereas the Vallabhacharis wanted only safety for their svarup.

No doubt the flight was a major disruption for the Vallabhacharya Sampraday. When the upheaval occurred in 1669, the sect had been established well over 150 years on Mount Govardhan, the location where Shrinathji first appeared, It was a shift not taken easily for this was Krishna’s birthplace, the playground for his lilas (sports) and most importantly the site of Shrinathji raising Mount Govardhan as an umbrella to protect his people from the punishing deluge sent by the storm god Indra. Even though the teenaged Tilakayat Damodarji (VS 1711-1760; 1654 -1703 CE) was supported by his uncles, Gopinathji and Balakrishnaji, it must have been an emotionally trying decision for him to make. The sect had strong roots in Braj.

After Shrinathji’s arrival in Sinhar a shrine was erected in VS 1728 (1671 CE) which was purposefully designed as a haveli (mansion) instead of the traditional shikara-style (towered) temple. The architect of the new temple built on the pattern of an aristocrat’s mansion was Gopaldas Ustad under the supervision of Hariraiji, the author of the Shrinathji ki Prakatya Varta. Every part of the new structure was to recall the sacred topography of Braj, Krishna’s homeland.

Today pilgrims throng the halls of the haveli for every ceremony, jostling each other to reach the Nij Mandir where Shrinathji resides. The viewing periods are short, and thousands seek his darshan (viewing). Although the seva (service) is done with the utmost respect the crush of pilgrims tries the patience of those attempting to feel at one with their Lord. Outside in the streets there is almost a carnival-like atmosphere. Entire lanes are dedicated to outfitting the private shrines of pilgrims. There are shops filled with embroidered fabrics to embellish the sacred chambers and glittery brocade dresses fashioned for every size and shape of image as well as a profusion of painted, printed and sculpted images of Shrinathji. Prasad, which is made in the haveli kitchens in great quantities, is available for purchase. There are piles of ghee-laden laddus, pots of thick sweet rabri and mounds of savoury besan sev—all Krishna’s favourites. Nathdwara fosters an entire industry dedicated to the worship of Shrinathji.

Since the founding of Nathdwara, artists have been drawn to this sacred place to fulfil the needs of the haveli and to provide pilgrims with painted devotional images for their shrines. While the other schools of Rajasthani painting have died out for lack of royal patronage, Nathdwara has continued, fed by the passionate desire of devotees to serve Shrinathji and to be one with their Lord.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Nathdwara Paintings from the Anil Relia Collection: The Portal to Shrinathji, by Kalyan Krishna and Kay Talwar, Niyogi Books, 2021.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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Richard Head and Tony McClenaghan in their book, The Maharajas’ Paltans have said that the armed forces of Marwar were formed from the feudal contingents provided by Jagirdars (nobles) when needed, until Maharaja Vijay Singh’s reign (1753-1793). However, the growing power of these nobles and increasing menace of the Marathas led Maharaja Vijay Singh to raise a small force of his own, chiefly composed of the foreign mercenaries—Rohilas, Afghans, Nagas and Purbias. At the time when the Maratha power was in the ascendant and the Pindaris were ravaging India, the Jodhpur forces numbered some 12,000 men, of whom 4,000 were Jagirdar Sowars. The latter, were called out to aid in time of war, whilst the remainder were a mixed force including guns, cavalry and infantry. These mercenaries were more unscrupulous and less faithful than the indigenous force. Thus, the Marwar army degenerated into a heterogeneous, indisciplined and poorly equipped force till conclusion of the treaty of 1818, whereby the state was freed from all fear of external attack, the necessity of maintaining a large standing army for the defence of the Raj disappeared.

Some of these men were habitual consumers of opium, which they consumed just before going to war. The Rajputs always fed some to their horses as well, so as to make them immune to fear and to permit them to better endure the fatigue of battle. Opium, which made the warriors fearless and oblivious to danger and increased their force and courage tenfold, worked as a cure-all for their soul. This excessive consumption of opium at the time of war led to a habit of daily consumption. Sanctioned by its usage, comes the Rajput expression of ‘sharing of opium,’ to ratify a solemn engagement, an inviolable promise. (The consumption of opium was not illegal and it was consumed openly and distributed to users while on active service even during the Great War. This practice was, however, completely eradicated during the inter-war period of 1919 to 1939).

On 6 January 1818 a treaty was signed with the British at Delhi, thereby bringing the State fully under British protection. Under article 8 of the Treaty of 1818, the Jodhpur Maharaja was required to furnish a contingent of 1,500 horse for the service of the British Government whenever required. This proved unsatisfactory and it was revised on 07 December 1835 by substituting the payment of 1.15 Lakhs annually for the obligation to furnish a contingent of 1,500 Horse.

This sum was at first devoted to the formation and maintenance of a Corps known as the Jodhpur Legion Cavalry and stationed at Erinpura. Recruitment for this force started in January 1836 at Ajmer, but in November of the same year the force moved to Erinpura, about 78 miles south of Jodhpur. The Jodhpur Legion was a composite force of cavalry, infantry and artillery.

The Panjdeh incident in March 1885, when the Russians attacked an Afghan force on the North West Frontier, led to fear of an impending war with Russia. This led Viceroy Dufferin to announce on 17 November 1888, the scheme of Imperial Service Troops (IST) i.e., the troops held for the support of the Imperial interests. He asked the Indian Princes to locally recruit their troops, train and equip them at their own cost, to a standard of regular army, so as to be available to the Government of India in times of war. Great care was taken that these troops should be the real state troops and not resemble the old contingents of foreign mercenaries. It was hoped, incidentally, that these troops would furnish interesting and more active employment for young nobles and gentry to whom the life within the State might fail in affording a career, and to a certain extent it had these results.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from The Story of the Jodhpur Lancers: 1885-1952, by Mahendra Singh Jodha, Niyogi Books, 2018.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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The findings of the GUESSS India survey provide valuable insights into career aspirations, government support for startups, and suggestions for fostering a more supportive environment for future entrepreneurs. The implications of these findings are significant for policymakers, educators, and investors. By supporting this entrepreneurial movement, India could undergo transformative change and set an example of student-led growth for the global community.

Indian students stand out globally, demonstrating one of the highest levels of entrepreneurial ambition. As India’s startup ecosystem thrives, aided by government initiatives like Startup India and extensive support from academic institutions, the GUESSS report raises essential conversations for policymakers, educators, and stakeholders. Targeted strategies are needed to harness this entrepreneurial potential by closing critical gaps, improving accessibility, and building an environment where every aspiring entrepreneur can succeed.

Immediate career preferences: employment is primary, but entrepreneurship is on the rise

The GUESSS India 2023 report, the first survey in India, reveals that 69.7% of Indian students intend to pursue employment right after graduation, a statistic that mirrors global trends. Many students within this group aspire to join large corporations, public service, or academia, reflecting the value placed on job security and career stability early on. This preference aligns with the traditional education-to-employment path that has historically directed students toward stable jobs post-graduation.

However, a growing segment—about 14%—aims to jump directly into entrepreneurship. This new wave of students sees potential in creating their own businesses and contributing to India’s dynamic startup environment. With entrepreneurship becoming more attractive due to platforms like Shark Tank India and the success stories of Indian unicorns, students are increasingly inspired to build their ventures.

Five years after graduation, the number of students aiming to launch their businesses more than doubled, reaching 31.4%. Meanwhile, preference for traditional employment falls to 52.2%. This trend suggests an “employee-first, entrepreneur-later” mindset, where students view the corporate experience as valuable preparation for entrepreneurship. For policymakers and educational institutions, this deferred approach signals the need to create pathways that make entrepreneurship a feasible career choice right after graduation.

The role of government initiatives: startup India and incubators

Government initiatives, especially Startup India, have created a vast network of over 500 government-recognized incubators nationwide, fostering a supportive environment for young entrepreneurs. These incubators serve as critical resources, providing funding, mentorship, and hands-on business support to help students overcome early obstacles. In addition, programs like tax exemptions, simplified compliance, and prioritized procurement for government projects have helped student-led ventures thrive. 

Through initiatives like the National Innovation and Startup Policy (NISP) and the National Education Policy (NEP), the government encourages universities to include entrepreneurship in their curricula—for example, the Atal Innovation Mission funds numerous universities’ innovation labs and incubation centers. The Atmanirbhar Bharat and Make in India encourage student entrepreneurship by supporting ventures that foster national self-reliance and showcase Indian ingenuity. Expanding access to incubators, mentorship, and funding focused on young entrepreneurs will empower more students to transform their ambitions into businesses that enhance India’s economic resilience and international stature.

Challenges in achieving the entrepreneurial vision

Despite enthusiasm for entrepreneurship, challenges hinder the transition from intention to action. Currently, only 4.8% of Indian students manage active, revenue-generating businesses. This discrepancy suggests barriers to transforming startup ideas into functional businesses, requiring attention from institutions and policymakers. Furthermore, male students display higher entrepreneurial ambition than their female counterparts, highlighting the need for programs encouraging women entrepreneurs. Resource accessibility, especially incubators and funding, also varies across regions, posing additional challenges for students in rural or underserved areas. Addressing these regional disparities is crucial to ensuring equal entrepreneurial opportunities for all students.

Recommendations to unlock India’s entrepreneurial potential

The following actions are essential to maximize the entrepreneurial potential of India’s youth:

1. Expand Incubation Support: While India’s incubator network is growing, making these resources more accessible to students across regions, especially women entrepreneurs, would create a more inclusive ecosystem. Aligning these resources with student needs, particularly in non-urban areas, will foster a diverse and widespread entrepreneurial culture.

2. Enhance Entrepreneurial Education: Integrating entrepreneurship education across disciplines—not just in business schools—can foster a broader understanding of venture creation. Universities can also implement experiential programs that let students work on actual startup projects, bridging the gap between theory and practice.

3. Increase Government-Industry-Academia Collaboration: Collaborative programs among government agencies, private enterprises, and academic institutions can provide funding and mentorship, helping students gain valuable industry insights and connections crucial for entrepreneurial success.

4. Support Women Entrepreneurs: Mentorship programs and scholarships for female entrepreneurs can help close the gender gap in entrepreneurship. Female students can also benefit from connecting with female mentors and role models in business, inspiring more women to pursue entrepreneurial careers.

5. Promote a Startup Culture through Media and Events: Shows like Shark Tank India illustrate media’s impact on career ambitions. More events and initiatives celebrating young entrepreneurs can help create a culture where entrepreneurship is encouraged and celebrated.

India’s path forward: reflections from stakeholders

As India’s student entrepreneurship ecosystem grows, policymakers, educators, and industry leaders have a unique opportunity to shape a future where student-driven innovation fuels economic growth. Supporting the ambitions of young entrepreneurs benefits individuals and contributes to solving more significant economic issues, from job creation to technological advancement.

The GUESSS India 2023 Survey reveals a strong entrepreneurial drive among India’s youth. The challenge ahead is creating a comprehensive support system that removes obstacles and improves accessibility, enabling these entrepreneurial aspirations to become impactful realities. Through effective policies, enhanced educational frameworks, and collaborative initiatives, India can position itself as a global hub for student-led entrepreneurship.

[Liam Roman edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post The 2023 GUESSS Survey on India’s Promising Youth Entrepreneurship appeared first on Fair Observer.

The obvious answer is the media. But few people in the United States trust the media these days. Surely, in a democracy “of the people, by the people and for the people,” there will be a few scoundrels who make their way into government, but we can assume that the majority merits our confidence. Well, according to a Pew survey titled, “Public Trust in Government: 1958-2024,” the current level of trust has fallen to 22%.

December 2024 offers us a vision of exacerbated tensions in various parts of the globe. At such moments, we expect our leaders to speak with some degree of honesty. Especially when the stakes are high and decisions become a matter of life or death. We accept that some things must remain secret. But the democratic principle implies an effort on the part of our governments to offer a minimum of clarity concerning the facts and their intentions.

Alas, the duty of obscurity seems to have replaced the ideal of clarity as the norm. Clever government officials have good reasons to justify their brazen stonewalling. First, national security requires concealing one’s true intentions. After all, if revealed, the enemy will profit. Then there is the fact that in any situation of conflict, we should accept the reality of the “fog of war,” a concept erroneously but persistently attributed to Prussian general and military theorist Carl von Clausewitz by commentators, some of whose brains may be subjected to a permanent fog.

What are US presidents for if not guiding the nation towards an understanding of the truth? In August 2023, US President Joe Biden informed us that “Putin has already lost the war” in Ukraine. An obvious fact. The truth teller now describes the recent history of US policy towards Syria. “Over the past four years, my administration pursued a clear and principled policy toward Syria. First, we made clear from the start sanctions on Assad would remain in place unless he engaged seriously in a political process to end the civil war.”

Today’s Fair Observer Devil’s Dictionary definition:

Principled policy:

A course of action relentlessly pursued thanks to the capacity of some people in a position of authority to persistently ignore surrounding reality.

Contextual note

Biden uses two epithets, “clear” and “principled,” to describe his policy. The word “clear” is certainly the most overused word by any spokesperson for the White House or State Department. At briefing sessions with personalities such as the White House’s Karine Jean-Pierre and the State Department’s Matthew Miller, whenever a journalist poses embarrassing questions that highlight potential ambiguity or equivocation with regard to the “noble” principles that guide US actions, they respond with the formula, “We have been very clear about…” In one random example, the press briefing session of March 27, 2024, Max Miller crafted this litany of explanations:

• So we have been very clear about this matter.
• So we have made that quite clear to them.
• So I will say that we have a fundamental disagreement with the Israeli Government over this issue, and we have made that quite clear.
• … we will continue to be clear about what we think about these actions.
• …we have made clear that we believe that allegations of genocide are unfounded.
• …we have made clear that the United States is not going to send any troops to Ukraine.
• And I think it’s clear that these claims are categorically false. (this was a response to the claim that the US created ISIS.)
• …and we’ll make the same thing clear privately.
• …we have made clear since the outset of this administration that the promotion of democracy is one of the top priorities for the President.
• So we continue to make clear in our conversations with the Government of Bangladesh… that we wanted to see free and fair elections and we will continue to support free, full, open democracy in Bangladesh.
• So we have been very clear about this matter. We’ve been unequivocal. (This concerned the fact that “Ben-Gvir’s coalition would be annexing additional land in the Jordan Valley.”)
• So we have made that quite clear to them. We’ve been very direct and candid about it in our conversations with them. (On the same topic of land seizures.)

This obsessively repeated verbal tic brings home the point that “being clear” means quite simply: “Whatever we say must be accepted as truth.” As for the “principled policy” Biden cited, his logic consists of announcing a simple principle — that Syrian President Bashar al-Assad must be removed from office — and never deviating from it. Even if circumstances change, and even if hundreds of thousands of people may die or be displaced as a result of clinging to that principle.

Biden has already vowed to support the new Syrian government. Some may find this a bit strange. At this point, nobody has even a vague idea about what the new government will look like. On principle, can the US support it? What if it turns out to be a Wahhabi terrorist government, fulfilling its leader’s initial allegiance? Moreover, Syrian Head of State Abu Mohammed al-Joulani still has a $10 million bounty on his head because the US branded him a terrorist. Does Joulani’s success in overthrowing a dictator, Assad, automatically mean that democracy is on its way? Biden might profitably consult the the poem, “The Great Day” by the Irish poet, William Butler Yeats::

“Hurrah for revolution and more cannon-shot!
A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar on foot.
Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again!
The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.”

Substitute “regime change” for “revolution” and Yeats has defined the principle that defines at least 50% of US foreign policy. In the meantime, Biden and his good friend, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu are providing “more cannon-shot.” Within a day of the announced liberation of Syria, the US and Israel conducted multiple bombing raids on the military infrastructure and other threatening elements within a country that is rife with threatening elements. Can anyone seriously doubt that the lash will go on?

Anyone struggling with the question of which “clear principles” to apply to a dramatic situation in which multiple interests both converge and diverge would do well to follow Caitlin Johnstone’s advice. “I personally don’t blame people for misunderstanding what’s been happening in Syria all these years. Some of my favorite analysts got Syria wrong in the early years of the war. It’s a complicated issue. It’s hard to sort out the true from the false, and it’s hard to sort through the moral complexities and contradictions of it all as a human being. What matters is that you stay curious and open and sincerely dedicated to learning what’s true instead of bedding down and making an identity out of your current understanding.”

Johnstone’s wisdom tallies with the advice our fictional journalist and his AI assistant are intent on following in the video above.

Historical note

As US President Barack Obama’s vice president and then as president, Joe Biden has been associated with the framing and enforcing of the principles he claims to be at the core of US policy with regard to Syria.

But what are those principles? In 2015, The Guardian revealed that the most obvious one has been to ignore any initiative aiming at peace and mutual security, especially if the initiative comes from Russia.

The Guardian was clear. “Russia proposed more than three years ago that Syria’s president, Bashar al-Assad, could step down as part of a peace deal, according to a senior negotiator involved in back-channel discussions at the time. Former Finnish president and Nobel peace prize laureate Martti Ahtisaari said western powers failed to seize on the proposal. Since it was made, in 2012, tens of thousands of people have been killed and millions uprooted, causing the world’s gravest refugee crisis since the second world war.”

Biden’s principles are clear. He once again demonstrated that clarity in December 2021 when he refused to consider security arrangements Russian President Vladimir Putin proposed that could have avoided an invasion and a prolonged war in Ukraine, in which an estimated one million people have died. UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson applied the same principle when he instructed the Ukrainians not to sign a peace treaty in April 2022.

During a 2015 television interview, Former French Foreign Minister Roland Dumas recounted how his British friends told him they were planning to overthrow Assad because the “Syrian regime said things that were anti-Israeli.” Another case of applying a principle, this time by British allies of the US.

These cases illustrate what has become clear as far as principles are concerned. Negotiation and diplomacy can never replace kinetic action, whatever the eventual cost. The principle of regime change for Syria has already been in place for 12 years. It has finally succeeded. Just as it had in Iraq and Libya and even in Afghanistan in 2001.

One may legitimately ask, is it more about principle or about interest?

*[In the age of Oscar Wilde and Mark Twain, another American wit, the journalist Ambrose Bierce produced a series of satirical definitions of commonly used terms, throwing light on their hidden meanings in real discourse. Bierce eventually collected and published them as a book, The Devil’s Dictionary, in 1911. We have shamelessly appropriated his title in the interest of continuing his wholesome pedagogical effort to enlighten generations of readers of the news. Read more of Fair Observer Devil’s Dictionary.]

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post For the US in Syria, Is It About Principle or Interest? appeared first on Fair Observer.

According to her daughter Primavera, Hilde struggled in Bombay. At first she had no place to stay and slept on the therapy table in the consulting room of a South Indian doctor. There she met a young Parsi homeopath, Dr A.K. Boman-Behram. Wartime regulations required foreigners to register daily at the police station; the young doctor took Hilde there on his motorbike every single day. Romance flourished and they married in 1940. They lived in Queens Mansion in the Fort area where Hilde turned the large hall into her dance studio. Hilde’s first performance in India was at the Taj Mahal Hotel.

She soon began to absorb the vibrant forms of Indian classical dance and art, and to strike up friendships with other artists in the city such as Uday, Menaka, and Sachin Shankar. The dancer Ram Gopal taught at her studio. Magda Nachman, the Russian artist, was her closest friend. In 1941, two ballets (The Selfish Giant and Russian Fairy Tale) with music by Russian composers and with costumes by Nachman were presented by the Excelsior Theatre. They were written and choreographed by Holger using her female dance students, many of whom were Parsis.

Hilde’s dance studio was quintessentially cosmopolitan. An unconventional choreographer, she had her dancers perform under the open skies on the beach at Juhu with the waves rolling in the background and their orchestrated movements reflecting the rhythms of the cosmos. The young Parsi, Avan Billimoria, captured these performances in timeless photographs. The sea and the dancers, each mirroring the strength and energy of the other, the sun flashing on both—nature and art blending together by way of stunning movements sculpted in time. Hilde always stressed the line—the center of balance that passes through the center of the body. But the forms she created were always unconventional.

Hilde had met and admired Gandhi, treasuring till her last days the photograph he signed for her. On the fateful day of Gandhi’s assassination, Hilde recalls that she was directing a dress rehearsal and “a dreadful sadness came over all of us, Indians and Europeans” alike. The theatres shut down as the country mourned. Continuing communal riots in the country in the wake of the partition of India compelled Hilde and her family to leave for London, where she started the Hilde Holger School of Contemporary Dance.

However, there were new difficulties. In 1949, her son Darius was born with Down’s syndrome. Determined to help him live a meaningful life, she created a form of dance therapy for those with disabilities. Darius enjoyed music, played the drums, and contrary to expectations, lived to be almost 60. Primavera herself learnt dance initially from Hilde, performed in her productions, and designed costumes; she has worked in theatre and film, and also designed jewelry. She has made a film titled Hilde—Her Legacy on her mother’s fascinating journey.

Primavera directed me to one of her mother’s students, the charming Feroza Seervai, who grew up in a westernized milieu and whose husband H.M. Seervai was the Advocate General of Maharashtra. Feroza animatedly recollected how “Hilde taught free movement and the importance of the line in dance.” The artist Shiavax Chavda would sit in at the rehearsals, sketching. Feroza danced in several performances at the Excelsior and St. Xavier’s College Hall. Feroza recalled Hilde’s playful wit. On a trip to South India, when someone asked her where she was from, Hilde replied, “I’m made in Vienna!” So she was. But I cannot help thinking that perhaps she was made by Bombay too, and that figures like her hint at a different Bombay whose history is yet to be written.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Jews and the Indian National Art Project, edited by Kenneth X. Robbins and Marvin Tokayer, Niyogi Books, 2015.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Jews and the Indian National Art Project appeared first on Fair Observer.

Both Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia often find themselves at the periphery of global decision-making, despite playing key roles in global events. For instance, while fighting fiercely for sovereignty, Ukraine has faced challenges in influencing broader political dynamics. Limited resources, military constraints and insufficient global representation contribute to this difficulty, a struggle also familiar to many Southeast Asian countries.

Strengthening ties between Eastern European countries such as Poland, the Baltics and Slovakia, and Southeast Asian nations like Japan, South Korea and the Philippines, could provide an avenue for mutual self-determination. This partnership would help smaller states align their interests in ways that larger powers often overlook. Global events like US presidential elections, the war in Ukraine and China’s aggressive economic policies have far-reaching effects on these regions, introducing risks that may not be the primary concern of dominant powers.

Pursuit of partnerships

While existing initiatives within NATO and the EU have laid the groundwork for some cooperation, they still operate under the influence of a few powerful states. To maximize their potential on the global stage, Eastern European and Southeast Asian nations must explore partnerships that emphasize greater independence and equal decision-making.

The EU has already fostered economic cooperation with Southeast Asia through agreements like the European Union–Vietnam Free Trade Agreement (EVFTA) and the European Union–Singapore Free Trade Agreement (EUSFTA). These agreements open up new markets and strengthen trade ties, providing a platform for Eastern European countries, such as Poland, to expand exports, especially in sectors like renewable energy technologies, machinery and chemicals.

In terms of security, NATO’s operations in the Asia-Pacific — primarily focused on counter-piracy and anti-terrorism have indirectly benefited Eastern European nations like Estonia and Latvia, which rely on secure international trade routes. Although NATO’s formal role does not extend deeply into Southeast Asia, there is growing collaboration in counter-terrorism and cybersecurity, which further strengthens the security frameworks of Eastern Europe.

Benefits of Eastern European–Southeast Asian cooperation

The economic benefits of cooperation between these regions are undeniable. Southeast Asia’s rapidly-expanding markets present a prime opportunity for Eastern European nations like Poland, Ukraine and the Baltic States to diversify their economies beyond their traditional reliance on Western Europe. Eastern European countries have strong industrial sectors, especially in manufacturing and energy, which align with Southeast Asia’s need for infrastructure, energy solutions and high-tech products. In turn, Southeast Asia offers an expanding consumer base and growing sectors in biotechnology, Information and Communication Technology and manufacturing — areas in which Eastern Europe can make inroads.

Both regions also share common security concerns. Eastern Europe faces direct threats from Russia while Southeast Asia grapples with challenges posed by China’s regional ambitions. Despite these differences, lessons learned from Ukraine’s resilience in the face of Russian aggression could offer valuable insights for Southeast Asian nations aiming to safeguard their sovereignty. Joint defense exercises, intelligence sharing and enhanced military cooperation could further improve security for both regions.

As Eastern Europe’s digital sector continues to grow, particularly in countries like Estonia, Southeast Asia stands to benefit from expertise in areas like e-government, cybersecurity and smart cities. Conversely, Eastern Europe can learn from Southeast Asia’s rapid advancements in mobile technology and e-commerce platforms, where Southeast Asia has outpaced many other regions.

Challenges and solutions

Despite these opportunities, several challenges remain. Eastern European countries often find themselves constrained within broader EU or NATO frameworks, with their foreign policy decisions heavily influenced by larger EU members like Germany or France. Similarly, NATO’s priorities are often shaped by the US, limiting the ability of Eastern European nations to fully engage in independent partnerships with Southeast Asia.

Moreover, Southeast Asia’s dependence on China complicates the situation. Many Southeast Asian nations are cautious about antagonizing China, which could limit their willingness to deepen ties with Eastern Europe, particularly given Russia’s ongoing role as an ally to several Southeast Asian countries.

To navigate these challenges, both regions should take gradual, incremental steps. They can begin by focusing on non-contentious areas like trade, technology and cultural exchange. Multilateral organizations such as the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) Regional Forum (ARF) and the EU–ASEAN dialogue provide platforms for both regions to build consensus on broader security concerns without escalating geopolitical tensions.

While the road to deeper cooperation between Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia is not without its obstacles, the potential for mutually beneficial partnerships remains strong. By focusing on economic, technological and security cooperation, Eastern European countries like Poland, Ukraine and the Baltic States can reduce their dependence on traditional allies and assert greater autonomy on the global stage. Leveraging existing frameworks like the EU and NATO while navigating the complex geopolitical landscape will be crucial in fostering ties that give both regions a stronger voice in global affairs.

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia Need New Alliances appeared first on Fair Observer.

Stereotypes actively ignore the reality of the Gulf region

The central flaw of the movie lies in its reliance on negative stereotypes. Saudi citizens are depicted in a manner that ignores the core values of hospitality, respect and cultural diversity that define much of Saudi society. This reductive representation not only mischaracterizes the Saudi people but also risks straining the diplomatic and economic ties between Saudi Arabia and India. For decades, Saudi Arabia has been a key partner to India, especially in providing employment opportunities for millions of Indian expatriates. However, Goat Life largely overlooks the positive contributions these expatriates offer Saudi society and the mutually beneficial relationships both countries have enjoyed in the Gulf.

The focus on negative experiences within Saudi Arabia is further complicated by the omission of success stories from the region. Many Indian professionals have built thriving careers in industries such as healthcare, technology and construction. Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030 initiative, which has specifically invited Indian professionals to contribute to the Kingdom’s ambitious development projects, is completely disregarded in the film. Initiatives like the Musaned program, which safeguards the rights of domestic workers, are also ignored, painting an incomplete picture of life for Indian expatriates in the Gulf.

Important social issues continue to be ignored

This misrepresentation in the movie reflects a broader trend in Indian foreign policy in which flaws in allied nations are highlighted while domestic issues are underplayed. Indian cinema, in this case, seems to follow suit. The film’s exaggerated depiction of life in Saudi Arabia diverts attention from pressing societal challenges in India, such as exploitation, gender-based violence and systemic inequality. Notable cases like the Nirbhaya gang rape or the Kathua incident are stark reminders of real, tragic stories that exist within India’s borders — stories that deserve more attention in Indian cinema.

This selective narrative raises further questions when considering recent developments such as the Canadian government’s allegations against the state of India. Canada accused India of being involved in the killing of Canadian nationals on Canadian soil. Such serious accusations, which have significant geopolitical implications, are conspicuously absent from Indian cinema’s focus. Why are these pressing international issues not addressed with the same vigor in Indian films? 

The selective focus on external flaws while overlooking internal issues mirrors a pattern often observed in India’s diplomatic stance. By critiquing its allies through international platforms, India risks eroding the goodwill that has long defined its relationships with key partners like Saudi Arabia. At a time when global interconnectedness is essential, the portrayal of nations in films like Goat Life should aim for greater nuance and fairness. Similarly, Indian cinema has an opportunity to shed light on the real struggles faced within its own borders, amplifying voices that demand justice and reform.

[Cheyenne Torres edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Goat Life: How Indian Cinema Neglects Social Issues appeared first on Fair Observer.

This confrontation transcends conventional political rivalry; it is a battle over the nation’s direction and identity, with implications for stability, governance and democracy. Pakistan’s choices today will echo for decades to come.

The military and the populist

Pakistan’s military is not merely an institution, but a foundational pillar of the state. Since its birth in 1947, the military has been a guarantor of national security and unity, navigating the country through wars, internal conflicts, and natural calamities. However, this role has often extended into political governance, with the military exerting substantial influence over the state.

Of course, military intervention receives a great deal of criticism. Its defenders argue that the military has stepped in to stabilize a nation plagued by political infighting, corruption and weak governance.

This dual role — protector and power broker — has created a complex dynamic, one that often overshadows Pakistan’s democratic aspirations. This dynamic continued until the Khan’s emergence in 2018 marked a seismic shift.

A cricketing legend turned political reformer, Khan rode a wave of popular discontent to power in 2018. His Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) party promised a break from the past: economic reform, accountability and an end to elite-driven politics.

However, Khan’s tenure as prime minister was polarizing. While his supporters lauded his vision for a Naya Pakistan (“New Pakistan”), critics pointed to economic mismanagement and policy inconsistencies. By 2022, Khan’s relationship with the military — once seen as a source of strength — had deteriorated, culminating in his removal through a parliamentary no-confidence vote alleged by the PTI to have been engineered by the Pakistan military.

Instead of retreating, Khan reinvented himself as an opposition leader, channeling public frustration into a potent political force. His narrative of resistance against entrenched elites resonated deeply, particularly among younger voters and the middle class.

Since August 2023, Khan has been incarcerated under a cloud of legal proceedings his party deems politically motivated. He faces over 150 legal cases.

Khan’s imprisonment has become a flashpoint for political unrest. For his supporters, these charges symbolize a broader attempt to stifle dissent and eliminate a genuine challenger to the status quo.

Despite his incarceration, Khan’s influence endures. His calls for judicial reform and fresh elections have kept his movement alive, with rallies, protests and sit-ins challenging the government’s authority. His wife, Bushra Bibi, has stepped into an uncharacteristic public leadership role, rallying PTI supporters and intensifying the push for his release.

Khan’s supporters hit the streets in huge numbers

The latest escalation came on November 24 when, upon Khan’s “final call,” hundreds of thousands of PTI supporters defied government-imposed lockdowns to march toward Islamabad from the four corners of Pakistan, demanding Khan’s release from prison, among other demands.

On Sunday, thousands of supporters launched a march from Peshawar, led by Bushra Bibi, Khan’s wife, and Ali Amin Gandapur, a prominent ally and chief minister of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Demonstrators removed barricades and shipping containers set up by authorities. The government has justified its actions as necessary to maintain order, accusing the PTI of inciting chaos. The Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi has openly threatened to fire upon pro-Khan protestors if the capital lockdown is breached. 

The clashes have turned violent, resulting in casualties on both sides. Authorities have responded with mass arrests, internet shutdowns, barricades and shoot-on-sight orders to prevent protesters from reaching D-Chowk, a symbolic venue for political demonstrations. 

The PTI, in turn, argues that these measures reflect a broader erosion of democratic freedoms. The result is a nation on edge, with Islamabad resembling a city under siege. Undeterred by governmental threats, Khan’s supporters have vowed to stage a sit-in in the capital to press for his release. 

At the time of writing, no side seems to be budging from its maximalist position. The PTI has categorically proclaimed that negotiations with the government are conditional on the prisoner’s release. 

The stakes in this political deadlock are extraordinarily high. Political instability could trigger an economic collapse and precipitate a full-blown currency crisis, leading to severe social and economic disruptions. The potential for civil unrest is real, with regions such as Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan — long plagued by their own issues — standing on the edge of serious disturbances. The specter of violence and instability looms large, casting a shadow over the nation’s future.

Adding to the urgency is the international community’s lack of appetite for intervention. With global attention consumed by a myriad of conflicts and geopolitical risks, Pakistan’s plight risks being relegated to the periphery. The international community’s reluctance to bail out a nation embroiled in chronic issues — a proverbial “problem child” — only exacerbates Pakistan’s vulnerability. But the world cannot ignore Pakistan’s woes, albeit those are never-ending and perpetual.

As Pakistan faces these unprecedented challenges, the next few days will be crucial. The choices made by the key actors — the military establishment, the current government and Khan — will determine the nation’s trajectory. A failure to address the root causes of the crisis could lead to a situation far worse than that faced by Sri Lanka or Bangladesh, where political and economic turmoil would engulf the country, leading to widespread suffering and instability. The ongoing protests could be the tipping point.

Above all, the military’s entrenched power and the government’s resistance to political reform create a standoff that leaves little room for compromise. Yet, this deadlock cannot continue indefinitely. The political rupture facing Pakistan today demands a collective reckoning — a recognition that the current path is untenable and that a new, inclusive approach to governance is urgently needed.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Pakistan on the Brink as Protestors Descend on Islamabad appeared first on Fair Observer.

The Partition between India and Pakistan marred the lives of millions for decades after the event. It left a legacy of communal tensions that endures today — in the last five years, there have been almost 3,000 incidents of communal violence. The trauma it caused lingers even today; the horrors of the Partition haunt many children and grandchildren of those involved in it. A study by the University of Delhi published in Psychological Studies found a “notable level of intergenerational trauma” even among the grandchildren of those who experienced the Partition.

I have grown up hearing stories of the Partition — how my grandfather, just 11 years old at the time, immigrated from East Pakistan (now Bangladesh), taking refuge under the seats of trains while the world around him was enveloped in an insatiable bloodlust. The trauma of that event stayed with him for life, and the memory of it has passed down through the generations. When I look at it as a historical event, the Partition feels distant, appalling and incomprehensible, but when I consider my personal connection to it, it feels much more real — something that threatened to consume the world of my grandfather as a child, something that profoundly shaped his life and my family’s.

As a keen high school student of history, I researched more about the Partition, wondering about the millions of teens my age who have a similar personal connection to the event. I was sure they felt its dark shadow in some way, like I did, and my research seemed to corroborate this.

However, I was unsure about how aware they were of the event from a historical perspective. How do today’s teenagers, many of whom are caught up in an age of affluence and optimism, remember the Partition? To what extent do they remember the truth behind what caused it? How well equipped are they with the lessons of the Partition to avoid repeating past mistakes?

A historical background to the Partition

Many people in India, when asked about what caused the Partition, will answer quickly, saying “communal tensions,” or the British “divide and rule” policy, or the Muslim League. But the issue was far more complex, formed by many forces building up to create the primal hatred that exploded in an inferno that blazed across the nation.

It happened when the British, having ruled India for almost two hundred years, left in 1947. They were compelled to do so by the 1942 Quit India Movement, economic burdens of World War II and the uprisings in the navy and army in 1945. For years, organizations like the Muslim League that represented “communal interests” had pushed for a Partition of India into a new state called Pakistan (Muslim-majority) and a diminished India (Hindu-majority). They had argued that Hindus and Muslims could not live together in peace and that Muslim interests would not be safeguarded in a united India. Thus, when the British Mountbatten Plan granted India independence, it also finalized the Partition.

However, the Muslim League had long been concocting the conditions for this official recognition. It started as an organization that pushed for “Muslim communal interests” as communalism, an ideology placing “communal” (religious, caste-based, regional or ethnic) identity over national identity, rose. The rise of Muslim communalism was fueled by fears that Muslims were being marginalized and oppressed by the Hindu majority. These fears were partly born from socioeconomic disparities under British rule — Anantdeep Singh of the University of Southern California writes of the “divergence of the economic fortunes of Muslims and Hindus” in British India. They wcoere also fed by the relative lack of inclusion of Muslims in the Indian National Congress (INC), the mainstream nationalist party in India led by luminaries like Mahatma Gandhi and Nehru. The British, who encouraged communal division to strengthen their rule over India, greatly supported the Muslim League’s cause.

By the 1930s, there was a push led by Muhammad Ali Jinnah for the separate nation of Pakistan based on the belief that Muslim interests could not be protected in a united India. Jinnah, a monumental figure who has become synonymous with the Partition, advocated for the “Two-Nation theory,” arguing for the division of India into two and the formation of Pakistan. Once a member of the INC, Jinnah was embittered by how he had been sidelined by the INC and how he believed Muslims were being trivialized and excluded. He was particularly put off by the INC’s actions during the Khilafat Movement of 1919, a movement protesting the fall of the Ottoman Empire and the deposition of the Caliph, the religious leader of Islam, after World War I. The INC supported this aggressively, but it seemed to Jinnah as if they were attempting to win over the Muslims and were thus trivializing Muslim issues with their furor. When he spoke out, he was not heard then or later — in a party with greats like Gandhi and Nehru, challenging the status quo was uncommon.

With a bruised ego and fears for the future of Muslims in India, he left the INC and soon went on a quest for a separate country. By 1940, 90% of Muslims had joined the Muslim League; many united in their vision of a divided India that they thought was necessary for the safeguarding of their “communal interests.” Eventually, Jinnah would become the first Governor-General of the new nation of Pakistan.

Even so, there may have been an opportunity to include Jinnah in an independent India and prevent the Partition. Just before independence, Gandhi, fearful of the nation splitting, proposed that Jinnah be made prime minister. However, the INC outright rejected it, perhaps, as the 14th Dalai Lama said, because of a “self-centered attitude of Pandit Nehru that he should be the Prime Minister.” Who knows what would have happened had Jinnah been prime minister? 

The INC may have failed in other ways, too. To many, it may seem preposterous that Gandhi and Nehru accepted Partition at all. But as historians Bipan Chandra et al. write in their book India’s Struggle for Independence, “Nehru, Patel, and Gandhiji … were only accepting what had become inevitable because of the long-term failure of the Congress.” This long-term failure was caused primarily by their inability to include Muslims and their neglect of the rising waves of Muslim communalism that would soon drown the vision they had of a free, united India. 

Many historians, though, trace the roots of the Partition further back to the earliest days of British rule in India. The British employed a fundamental principle of “divide and rule” by allying with certain communities and groups and pitting them against others. They did this during many events of historic significance — the Battle of Plassey, the 1857 Indian Rebellion, the 1871 Census, the 1932 Communal Award, and the 1935 Government of India Act all have this in common. Thus, they weakened their Indian opposition by fomenting division and dissent among them.

Soon, such communal thinking had seeped into the souls of millions of Indians.  Organizations like the Muslim League flourished because of its emphasis on communal fraternity within the Islamic faith. As a result, notions of a united India floundered. The British kept fanning the flame of this ideology. As Chandra et al. wrote, “While the Congress could get none of its demands accepted from 1885–1905, the Muslim communal demands were accepted … as soon as they were presented to the viceroy.” This continued through the early 20th century.

Overall, it is clear that a confluence of forces caused the Partition, drove Indians against each other, and created faultlines in the national consciousness that remain to this day.

A survey on teen perceptions of the Partition

I looked online and found few studies or surveys about how modern Indian teens think about the Partition. So, to understand their perspective — how inevitable they believe the Partition was and what factors they considered paramount — I surveyed 33 teens (between grades 9 and 12) in my school. These high school students were largely upper-caste Hindus. My survey asked them to rate four factors as the causes of the Partition:

1. The role of Muhammad Ali Jinnah and the Muslim League.
2. Underlying Hindu–Muslim tensions.
3. The policies of the British Raj.
4. The internal dynamics of the INC. 

The students had to rank each of these factors on a scale of 1 to 5. I also asked them whether they believed the Partition to be inevitable. They could reply “yes,” “no” or “unsure” to this question. I am well aware that my study is not exhaustive, but I wanted to kickstart an examination of my generation’s views on the Partition.

All 33 students gave a rating of 4 or 5 to two factors — the role of Muhammad Ali Jinnah and the Muslim League and underlying Hindu–Muslim Tensions. Another 24 rated the policies of the British Raj 4 or 5, while only four gave such a rating to the Internal dynamics of the Indian National Congress.

After the survey, I set out to answer a simple question: Does historical analysis corroborate these perceptions? The answer, like the Partition itself, is rather complex.

To begin with, today’s teens understandably and justifiably recognize the core role Jinnah and the Muslim League played. Historical analysis also shows that they were central to the conception and eventual occurrence of the Partition.

They also acknowledge the impact of divide-and-rule policies by the British in fracturing intercommunal relations. This is well documented by numerous historians.

Most respondents, however, overlooked the impact of the INC and its failure to effectively include Jinnah and Muslims. This may be attributed to the linear way history is often taught. A Manipal University study published in the Indian Journal of Sociology and Politics found that “the attempts and outlooks of Gandhi and others in the Indian National Congress are lauded,” while “the role … of Jinnah in Congress is minimally mentioned.” Indian history textbooks and curricula were drafted after India’s independence in 1947 under an INC led by Nehru. Hence, they very much reflect the views and biases of the INC, which largely ruled India from 1947 to 2014. Hence, the textbooks reflected the INC version of history with a clear, streamlined narrative, leaving out much nuance in the process.

To me, the most concerning result of my survey is the focus my fellow students gave to underlying Hindu-Muslim tensions. In a nutshell, they believe the Partition to be inevitable. They also believe the British were not creating Hindu–Muslim tensions but feeding existing ones. This perspective is generally justified by the fact that Muslims largely ruled India from the 12th to 18th centuries. The idea is that this power imbalance permanently tainted Hindu–Muslim relations, making it impossible for them to live together in peace and necessitating the Partition.

No fewer than 23 of those surveyed believe the Partition to be inevitable. Only seven believe it was not, and three of them are unsure.

My high school peers are not alone in believing in irreconcilable Hindu–Muslim differences. Most Indians believe that these differences made the Partition natural or necessary. In fact, 43% of Hindus surveyed in a 2019–2020 Pew Research study said that the Partition was a good thing for Hindu–Muslim relations. Only 30% said it was a bad thing.

However, history reveals that there were many political forces creating feelings of “communalism.” These feelings were neither natural nor inevitable. Moreover, other evidence calls into question the belief that centuries-old “underlying tensions” among the public were an important cause of the Partition. For instance, in the Stanford 1947 Partition Archive, a survey of 4,000 Partition survivors, only 5% said they were directly involved in Partition violence and that most of the violence was perpetrated by politically organized mobs, not spontaneous outbursts by ordinary people. There are numerous accounts of people caught up in a catastrophe no one really understood. Note that there are also many tales of people helping each other escape. This indicates that politicized, large mobs were at the heart of the riots, not ordinary people who had suddenly turned on their neighbors.

Why today’s teens believe the Partition was inevitable

Why, then, do so many modern teens believe the Partition was inevitable due to underlying Hindu–Muslim tensions?

Over decades, reality blurs, colored by the haze of the current political climate and divisive discourse. Today, a haze conjured from the ashes of the dead of the Partition obscures the truth, which is more nuanced than what we believe.

There is a real risk that my generation will not accurately understand the real lessons of the tragedy of the Partition and, even worse, learn the wrong lessons, which will further widen the cracks in society instead of bridging them. A study done by researcher Milounee Purohit among 70 school students in Ahmedabad showed that 40% of them remembered nothing of what was taught to them in school about the Partition, and most were not even concerned about it. In the void left by the absence of genuine knowledge, there is the risk of polarized and prejudiced views filling the vacuum.

The Partition of India is far from unique. There exist similar schisms around the world, not all political, but all similar in the way they pit cultures and peoples against each other — like the Israel–Palestine crisis, the Catholic–Protestant conflict in Northern Ireland and interracial issues in the US. 

Studying these schisms reveals the power of history. A good historical education is not only about learning facts but also about understanding why certain events transpired the way they did and what we can learn from them. The paramount lesson of my investigation is that we must be wary of leaders who champion themselves as representatives of their “communities.” We must critically question such leaders and examine their vested interests when they exploit social divisions and claim them to be inevitable. As Roman statesman and orator Marcus Tullius Cicero would say, “Cui bono?” Who benefits from all this politicking, this play? And who will pay the price?

Finally, to return to Nehru’s 1947 speech, I cannot help but think of Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children. In that book, children around midnight on August 15, 1947, have telepathic powers that allow them to know each other’s thoughts. Yet, like their forebears, they are bitterly divided by religion. It is my great hope that, with the right education, awareness and critical thinking, today’s generation of midnight’s grandchildren will finally start to heal the Partition’s scars — if not with telepathy, then at least with empathy.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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jaa tan ki jhaaim paraim syaama harit duti hoi.

Sri Radha, Krishna’s soulmate and paramour, is a unique phenomenon in the religious and spiritual history not just of India but of the world. In no other tradition is there a female character quite like her, a humble milkmaid elevated to the supreme status of the erotic and holy beloved of the Supreme Godhead. What makes her story unique is that she is not mentioned in the classical sources or scriptures. Even later, during the medieval period, while the name of Radha occurs in various places, her rise to prominence as an important goddess alongside Krishna is actually a comparatively recent phenomenon. According to Charlotte Vaudeville, ‘her emergence in the cultic and devotional sphere of Vaishnavism as Krishna Gopala’s beloved and Shakti is known to have taken place rather late, certainly not much earlier than the sixteenth century’(7).

In the Bhagavata Purana, the source of much of the later Krishna cult, there is no reference to Radha. The only clue to her identity is the single, unnamed girl with whom Krishna disappears in the Tenth Canto, which celebrates Krishna’s amours in the forest on the night of the full moon. While all the gopis cavort with Krishna in that scene, there is one he takes aside, much to the consternation, even dismay, of the others. Perhaps, that exceptional partner gave our medieval myth-makers the germ of the story of Radha which Jayadeva narrates in Gita Govinda. As Guy L. Beck notes:

Within the entire Sanskrit canon that is accepted by normative Vaishnava traditions, Radha is actually never mentioned by name. In the earlier canonical texts there is only the suggestion of Radha’s character, not her actual name, as one of Krishna’s favorites among a number of ‘unmarried’ (Harivamsa) or ‘already married’ (Bhagavata Purana) cowherd girls (gopis) who nonetheless seek his attentions during his childhood life in Braj. (Beck 72)

Thus it is to Jayadeva and his remarkable Gita Govinda that the real credit for creating Radha goes. As Valerie Ritter says:

The Gita Govinda, a highly popular and influential Sanskrit poem by Jayadeva, thought to have been composed in the twelfth to thirteenth centuries CE, was the first to focus extensively on Radha, in a manner evocative of the courtly nayaka and nayika (hero and heroine) of Sanskrit poetry. (Ritter 180)

But when Jayadeva makes her a full-fledged nayika or heroine of his most influential poem, Gita Govinda, it seems as if we have always ‘known’ or at least craved for Radha’s presence, nay, predominance in the love story of Krishna.

Once created by Jayadeva, Radha steadily rose in importance as Krishna’s chosen paramour, partner, spouse (as she was later in the Radhavallabha sect), and thus the supreme Vaishnava goddess. Chaitanya Mahaprabhu (1486–1534), who gave the Krishna cult its decisive form, at least in much of northern India, contributed a great deal to the character and theology of Radha:

Radha’s presence in poetry and her theological importance increased with the growth of the Caitanyite sect of Vaishnavism in Bengal, which saw the integration of poetic theory of the sringara rasa (the erotic sentiment) and its taxonomies of the nayaka–nayika with theology concerning the love of Radha and Krishna. (Beck 180)

But we cannot forget Jayadeva’s fundamental contribution to this apotheosis. According to Barbara Stoler Miller:

The compounding of Krishna with Radha into a dual divinity is central to Jayadeva’s conception of Krishna, not as an incarnation (avatar) of Vishnu, but as the source (avatarin, dasavidharupa, dasakrtikrt) of all the incarnate forms he himself assumes in order to save the world. (Quoted in Beck 73)

While the Gita Govinda institutionalised and legitimated Radha’s centrality in Vaishnavite Bhakti literature, her character, persona, and role was further embellished and moulded by eastern Indian poets like Chandidas and Vidyapati, who created the platform for the great devotional and political upsurge marked by the advent of Chaitanya. But others, notably Nimbarka closer to the Jayadeva, and Vallabha around the same time as Chaitanya, also played a crucial role. Later, most of the great Krishna-worshipping poets such as Surdas also exalted Radha till she became almost secularised and universalised in the Ritikal with poets like Bihari (1595–1664).

With the beginnings of modernity, Radha the goddess, underwent another drastic modification, now coming more often than not to represent illegitimate sexual desire. In the new puritanism fostered during the socalled Indian renaissance, Radha and her dalliance with Krishna, proved an embarrassment to the agenda of social reform that the proponents of Hindu modernity espoused. Yet, Radha persisted in folk songs and, later, in many popular art and craft traditions. The final twist in the Radha tale was added by twentieth century feminists who began to see in her a victim of the patriarchy or, even the special symbol and voice of a male poet, as in Ramakant Rath’s celebrated Sri Radha. Sometimes, Radha became a symbol of the degraded and exploited woman or she was even depicted as a fallen or abandoned woman, her tale a cautionary reminder of what happens to such women in our society.

All told, the story of Radha is extraordinary, not only in itself, but in the larger context of the history of Indian art, culture, religion and spirituality.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Radha: From Gopi to Goddess, edited by Harsha V. Dehejia, Niyogi Books, 2024.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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Singh’s rise to military success

Singh was born in Kusumdesar Village in the Churu region of the Bikaner Kingdom on July 14, 1919, to Brijlal Singh Rathore, a soldier, and his wife Jadao Kanwar. In 1938, after his intermediate exam, Singh was enrolled as a Naik, or corporal, in the Bikaner State Forces. When World War II broke out, he received a commission as a Second Lieutenant from the King. In 1949, he was absorbed into the Indian Army with the Third Gorkha Rifles Regiment. 

In 1961, Singh was promoted to the rank of brigadier and was given the command of India’s paratroopers, the 50th Parachute Brigade. “Operation Vijay,” the plan for the liberation of Goa from the Portuguese, commenced on December 17, 1961. Although the 50th Parachute Brigade was given a secondary role in the original operational plan, their rapid advance and initiative under Singh’s dynamic leadership made them the first to reach Panjim, the capital of Goa. On the morning of December 19, Panjim fell to the brigade. Portuguese Governor General and Commander-in-Chief Major General Vassalo De’ Silva fled to Marmagao but later surrendered. At 11 AM, Singh’s forces hoisted the Indian tricolor on the Secretariat Building at Panjim.

Refusal to retreat led to one of India’s greatest victories

Singh’s success did not stop there. In 1965, China issued an ultimatum to India to vacate the border outposts of Nathu La and Jelep La in Sikkim. Above him in the military hierarchy was Lieutenant General Sam Manekshaw, the Eastern Army Commander, and Lieutenant General Jagjit Singh Aurora, commander of the XXXIII corps, who were responsible for Sikkim. Singh, now a major general, was the General Officer Commanding (GOC) of the 17th Mountain Division, which controlled Nathu La. Orders given to the 17th and 27th Divisions required that they vacate the outposts and fall back to the main defenses in the case of hostilities.

The GOC of the 27th (deployed to the east of the 17th) pulled back from Jelep La. Thus, Jelep La fell to the Chinese. To this day, the vital pass leading to the Chumbi Valley is still with China. Singh, however, refused to pull back. From August to September 1967, the Chinese tried their best to make Indians withdraw from Nathu La, but Singh made his forces hold on even though he could have vacated this outpost. During this engagement, both sides suffered casualties, but Nathu La gave a bloody nose to the Chinese under Singh’s audacious leadership. The victory helped the nation and the army overcome some regrets of the military defeat in the 1962 Sino-Indian War.

Perhaps Singh’s insistence on defending Nathu La led to him being given a non-operational command, the 101st Communications Zone in Shillong. However, this general with “a talent for war” had the uncanny quality of winding up in military operations. By this time, the Mizo separatist rebellion, orchestrated by the Mizo National Front, had begun. Since the area was under his responsibility, Singh set counter-insurgency operations into motion in Mizoram. His quick thinking quelled the rebellion for some time. Mizoram became an Indian state much later, in 1986. Mizoram is the rare example of a successful counter-insurgency operation, all thanks to the initial sagacious operational approach set by Singh.

The liberation of Bangladesh is Singh’s crowning glory

In December 1970, Singh was promoted to lieutenant general and assigned the command of the IV Corps. The hierarchy above Sagat was the same as it was in Nathu La in 1967: Aurora was now the Eastern Army commander and Manekshaw the army chief. 

Initially, the plans for the liberation of Bangladesh did not involve the capture of Dacca (now Dhaka), the capital of Bangladesh. The plan was to liberate areas up to the major rivers surrounding Dacca and thereafter to declare Bangladesh liberated. The army headquarters’ directive to Eastern Command did not envision Dacca as the final objective of the campaign in the east.

Singh was ordered to advance up to River Meghna from Tripura in the East and capture areas up to the river line. He was ordered not to cross the Meghna. However, military genius that he was, Singh clearly identified the two centers of gravity of the campaign: the fall of Dacca and the capitulation of all Pakistani forces in East Pakistan. Undaunted by the massive Meghna, Singh launched the first-ever Indian heliborne operation across the river. His IV Corps raced to Dacca in a blitzkrieg. This led to the fall of the city and the capture of 93,000 Pakistani soldiers. It would perhaps have been appropriate for Singh, seeing as it was he who captured Dacca, rather than Aurora to have accepted the surrender of Pakistani forces from Lieutenant General Amir Abdullah Khan Niazi.

Singh’s legacy lives on

The Param Vishisht Seva Medal and the Padma Bhushan, awarded to Singh for his services in war, fall short of the magnitude of his contribution to the Indian nation. According to an unverifiable rumor, his victory ride through Dacca and his “son-of-the-soil” image may have ruffled his superiors’ feathers, causing them to deny him the awards he deserved. Whatever the case, it would now be appropriate to award him the Bharat Ratna, even posthumously.

Singh eventually settled down in Jaipur after retiring from the army in 1979. His house in Jaipur is called “Meghna,” as is his younger granddaughter. He breathed his last on September 26, 2001, at the age of 82.

On July 14, 2019, and the week after that, I had the unique privilege of organizing celebrations for the 100th anniversary of the birth of this illustrious general. A prominent road in Jaipur has been adorned with a bust of Singh and named after him. The Jaipur Literary Festival in January 2019 witnessed readings from his biography. A seminar was organized in Jaipur, where generals who fought the war with him, as well as his son Lieutenant Colonel Ran Vijay Singh and his relatives, paid tribute in a very publicized event.

Truly, Singh was a general who never lost a battle.

[Cheyenne Torres edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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Sexual assault across countries and cultures

Jane’s home country of India is known as one of the most dangerous countries for women. Sexual violence is so pervasive that some consider it the norm. Many girls grow up expecting to experience sexual harassment or assault at some point in their lives.

In early August, the rape and murder of a female doctor in training on her college campus in Kolkata added to India’s troubling record of horrific sexual violence against women. The brutal attack sparked massive protests and strikes across the country after she was found dead on the podium of a seminar hall with injuries that suggested torture. Months later, the government is still responding to the crime and its repercussions as women demand justice and legal reform.

The Kolkata incident represents just one of the thousands of cases documented each year, with a rape reported every 15 minutes. Women in rural communities or those in lower castes, particularly the Dalits, are particularly vulnerable to sexual abuse. Dalits are known as impure “untouchables” in India, often working as street sweepers and latrine cleaners. They are sometimes manipulated into forced labor or prostitution.

Seen as lesser than others, Dalit women who face abuse are often dismissed, silenced or are subjected to victim-blaming. This is despite overwhelming evidence of abuse — with one study finding that over 83% of Dalit women face sexual harassment or assault in their lifetime.

Upper-caste men often target lower-caste women who are less likely to report them. They leverage their social standing and associated privilege to manipulate or cover up the case. This pattern is mirrored in the US, where men in positions of power target women who are lower on the socioeconomic ladder because they believe they will not be caught (i.e., men like Harvey Weinstein).

In India, cultural censorship of women, combined with inefficient government support, discourages them from reporting assaults and seeking help. Outdated practices, such as the two-finger test, which some doctors still use to verify if a woman was penetrated, are just one of many ways women are humiliated in the aftermath of an assault.

India’s patriarchal culture and gender roles run deep, especially in communities with inadequate access to education and opportunities for development. Even if women stand up to violations of their human rights, they often face shame and ostracization, leading many to avoid coming forward.

Some studies estimate that as many as 99% of rapes go unreported in India. In the US, an estimated 63% of sexual assaults go unreported. The majority of data surrounding sexual abuse in India focuses primarily on rape, with studies on sexual harassment and other types of sexual assault (nonconsensual kissing, groping, touching etc.) receiving far less attention.

Public outrage has led to legislative reforms and increased institutional support for women in recent years. However, sexual assault remains commonplace in India, even for women from more privileged backgrounds, like Jane Doe.

Sexual misconduct in places that are meant to be safe for women, such as work, school or religious institutions, is not unique to countries with a poor track record on these issues. Women also face such threats in American institutions that continuously fail to respond effectively and transparently to cases of sexual misconduct.

Violence towards students in the US

While a family in Kolkata sought justice for their daughter in light of her rape and murder, Jane began her own pursuit of justice in a small college town in Minnesota.

In 2019, Jane left her family behind in Delhi and began her studies at Carleton College in Northfield, Minnesota. She planned to study computer science at the elite institution.

Carleton mandates its academically gifted students to leaven tough coursework with required P.E. classes in their early years on campus. Jane selected a Salsa dance taught by Smith, a Carleton graduate and high-ranking administrator whom the college claimed was an award-winning Salsa dancer. According to a complaint filed with the US District Court in Minnesota (Doe v. Carleton College, 2024), Smith groomed and assaulted Jane over the COVID years in an escalating pattern of abuse. 

The complaint states that Smith hired Jane as his co-instructor, requiring her to rehearse with him on campus and at his home nearby. Jane alleges Smith forcibly massaged her against her will, spanked her, forcibly kissed her, bit her and assaulted her multiple times during rehearsals at his house and on campus. The assaults could be brutal and allegedly included beatings, choking and drugging.

According to the college, Jane told a Carleton dean in early February 2022 that she had been attacked at the home of a faculty member, and that she needed extra time to complete assignments due to the trauma caused by those attacks. The dean refused to assist, however, and essentially told Jane to work harder. Discouraged by Carleton’s inaction and Smith’s claim that his administration ties would protect him against her allegations, Jane endured escalating abuse until she presented Carleton with Smith’s written confession and photos of her injuries. Carleton quietly terminated Smith after some time, and the college’s Title IX coordinator told Jane to keep quiet about the incident. 

Like many victims of campus sexual assault, Jane’s academic performance suffered. Rather than assist Jane, Carleton placed her on academic review and at threat of suspension for missing a COVID test while she was being assaulted by Smith. Jane said she felt “even more trapped” and that “she struggled to cope with the emotional distress caused by the instructor and the institution.” Despite her hardships, she met Carleton’s academic standards but continued to be harassed by the school.

Jane’s complaint alleges that Carleton failed to adequately supervise the instructor’s behavior and that the school was deliberately indifferent to the misconduct. It further states that the Title IX Coordinator failed to investigate the situation, allegedly violating Carleton’s Title IX policies and procedures, as well as federal law.

Jane is now suing Carleton for five counts per the First Amended Complaint: Vicarious Liability for Assault and Battery, Vicarious Liability for Sexual Abuse, Negligent Retention, Negligent Supervision and Vicarious Liability for Negligence.

In response, Carleton has called Smith a “predator” and said it regrets Jane’s experience at Carleton, but that Carleton has no legal liability for the sexual assault committed by its administrator. On August 19, two months after the initial filing, Carleton filed a motion to dismiss the case. The school claims — in direct contradiction to federal law — that it has no responsibility to investigate sexual misconduct. The motion was subsequently withdrawn after Jane amended her complaint. 

Despite cultivating a DEI-friendly institutional facade that includes a full-time dedicated Indigenous Community Liaison on a small campus with a negligible indigenous population, Carleton College has a sordid history of turning a blind eye to campus sexual assault. A group of Carleton alumni, frustrated with the college’s attempts to whitewash its past, started a website dedicated to collecting survivor stories starting from the 1960s and documenting the numerous lawsuits Carleton has faced, including a seminal 1991 lawsuit that helped establish national standards for responding to complaints made under Title IX. Carleton has already responded to some of the allegations in Jane’s lawsuit by firing at least one of the administrators involved and appointing their lawyer’s employee as Carleton’s Title IX coordinator. 

A dark history of sexual misconduct

Maxwell Pope graduated from Carleton in 2020 with a major in Dance and Psychology. During his time at the college, a male professor, Jay Levi,  was accused of sexual misconduct. One student alleged the professor groped her inner thigh multiple times and pressed his body into her while they were in a dark room together. Levi was also Smith’s academic advisor during his time at Carleton. 

According to Carleton’s student paper, The Carletonian, this was just one of at least nine Title IX claims brought against the professor. Title IX, part of the Education Amendments of 1972, prohibits gender-based discrimination in educational programs that receive federal funding.

After students reported the professor’s inappropriate sexual behavior, he took a “sabbatical.” He returned to campus in 2018. In 2019, a piece in the Carletonian claimed the Title IX investigation was “adjudicated with an opaque set of sanctions.” In a subsequent piece, a student writer expressed shock and anger in response to the misconduct and urged Carlton faculty to “redesign” the sexual misconduct complaint process.

Discussing his time at the college, Pope said, “It was definitely a situation with [Levi] where it felt more like students looking out for students, or students informing students.” He stated, “I don’t remember a time where the college was initiating those conversations — it was definitely a keep-it-quiet situation.”

According to Pope, “transparency would have felt better” in situations of sexual misconduct on campus, a sentiment that is echoed by students across the country in light of cover-ups and institutional censorship.

In recent years, a plethora of elite schools, such as Harvard and Stanford, have been accused of mishandling sexual misconduct. Inadequate responses from administration officials angered students. Given this poor track record, future students fear what will happen if they are assaulted.

Women are at serious risk of sexual abuse in US institutions of higher education. Many institutions refuse to take accountability for enabling continued abuse. One in five women is sexually assaulted during their time in college. Two-thirds of college students are sexually harassed.

Yet according to the National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC), in 2014, 40% of US colleges stated they had not investigated a single sexual assault case in the previous five years. Compare this data to the number of reported sexual misconduct cases on college campuses, and the fact that two-thirds of assaults in the US go unreported. The numbers don’t add up.

Justice from India to the US

The frequency and perception of assaults vary from country to country. A closer look at how universities in the US respond to accusations of sexual misconduct shows that women are often hurt by a lack of transparency. Jane left a country where both data and attitudes indicate she would have been exposed to sexual misconduct at home, only to encounter it upon arrival in the US.

In India, women face sexual misconduct in schools, hospitals, workplaces, public transportation and at home. Women are raised to be aware of the high likelihood of harassment, abuse and, in the worst-case scenario, rape.

They intimately understand the hardship of speaking out in a country where bureaucratic processes, cultural shame, the caste system and gender roles often form insurmountable obstacles for women seeking justice.

Despite cover-ups and pay-offs, cases from the Kolkata incident in August to the Nirbhaya gang rape of 2012 – which led to the creation of the death penalty for rape in India — galvanized the public and advanced the fight for greater accountability, justice and legislative reform.

In the US, there is greater overall gender equality, better access to medical resources and mental health support, and a longer history of both legislative and institutionalized systemic support for survivors.

In recent years, there have been significant but insufficient cultural shifts toward believing in and standing up for women. Many women are now taught not only how to stand up for themselves, but also that they can stand up for themselves.

Yet beneath the sparkling facades of US institutions, industries and college campuses, there are people like Harvey Weinstein, Larry Nassar and Roger Ailes. There are cover-ups, pay-offs and the slow but sure suffocation of victims by bureaucracy. And then, silence, until women like Jane come forward.

Hailing from the “rape capital of the world,” Jane arrived at an illustrious college campus in the prairies of Minnesota to pursue an education. She describes her college years as polluted by grooming, harassment and assault that severely damaged her physical, mental and emotional well-being.

This story, one of many, forces us to face disheartening truths and uncomfortable realities. Many US parents quake at the thought of sending their daughter to India when she is young, vulnerable and alone. Consider a family in Delhi or a rural village in Bihar and their excitement at the opportunity for their daughter to attend an elite US college.

Imagine them finding out she was abused, manipulated, assaulted and coerced by an educator in a position of power at an institution they believed was safe for their daughter.

It is time we address the reality of sexual abuse in the US, especially in the education system. The lack of transparency and accountability is catastrophic. It hinders both current and future students like Jane from making informed decisions about their educational environment and the associated risks of sexual harassment and assault.

Before pointing fingers at countries like India, we should be honest with ourselves, our communities and our students about the reality of sexual misconduct in our own nation. We must make tangible changes and consider victims in both how we prevent abuse and how we obtain justice.

[Joey T. McFadden and Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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Bangladesh has a history of poor working conditions including low wages, long hours and rampant sexism in a country where 85% of the garment workers were women. Workers were forced to work 14-16 hour shifts seven days a week all while making 2,000 Bangladesh Taka ($16.73) less than the minimum liveable wage. The work environments were also cramped and hazardous, often resulting in injury and other accidents, such as fires. From 2005-2012, there were several factory accidents that resulted in the death of nearly 250 workers. This does not include the thousands of other workers who were killed or injured in other accidents starting in as early as 1990. 

The turning point for Bangladesh’s RMG sector finally came in 2013 with the tragic Rana Plaza factory building collapse, which claimed the lives of 1,134 people, most of whom were garment workers. The tragedy prompted industry leaders and government officials, with the aid of international initiatives, to reevaluate safety measures and implement comprehensive reforms.

International initiatives 

International initiative has played a pivotal role in reshaping Bangladesh’s RMG industry. The two landmark initiatives formed in the aftermath of the Rana Plaza incident, The Alliance for Bangladesh Worker Safety and the Accord, have played a crucial role in significantly enhancing worker safety in Bangladesh’s RMG sector by conducting rigorous factory inspections, mandating safety upgrades and empowering workers through training and safety committees.

Since 2020, a nationally led RMG Sustainability Council, bringing together industry owners, brands and trade unions, has taken over the building and fire safety responsibility from international initiatives. Bangladesh Garment Manufacturers and Exporters Association (BGMEA) says that, under the council, significant improvements have been made in workers’ rights, including safety and transparency. 

Over the past decade, the country has invested in infrastructure by installing state-of-the-art fire and electrical safety equipment. A commitment to green initiatives and compliance measures has also resulted in safer working conditions and positioned Bangladesh as a role model for other nations in the garment manufacturing sector.

The 2013 Labor (Amendment) Act introduced pivotal amendments by creating safety committees in factories with 50 or more workers, appointing safety welfare officers in workplaces with more than 500 employees and establishing Health Centers in workplaces with over 5000 employees.

In 2022, the RMG Sustainability Council, in collaboration with the International Labor Organization (ILO) and the Federation of Bangladesh Chambers of Commerce and Industry (FBCCI), signed an agreement to enhance workplace safety and health in ten priority economic sectors. The initiative aims to establish safety units, develop safety committees and upskill workers on occupational safety and health.

The government has also invested in capacity building and training programs for workers and factory owners to foster a safety culture. These initiatives focus on imparting essential skills, raising awareness about safety protocols and cultivating a sense of responsibility toward the well-being of workers. 

A crucial aspect of Bangladesh’s commitment to safety lies in empowering workers. The Accord and RMG Sustainability Council have facilitated the formation of over 1,200 joint labor-management Safety Committees in Accord-covered factories. These committees are now trained to address and monitor factory safety daily. Moreover, workers have filed over 6,000 complaints through independent mechanisms, leading to improvements in health and safety, disciplinary actions, benefit payments and reduced working hours.

The impact of these efforts includes developing and implementing training programs for over 1.2 million workers, establishing a helpline managing over 30,000 calls annually and impactful worker surveys. The Accord and the RMG Sustainability Council have conducted nearly 56,000 inspections, rectifying 140,000 health and safety issues.

Governmental reforms

In 2023, in response to industrial disasters, the Bangladesh government initiated significant reforms in the Department of Inspections for Factories and Establishments (DIFE) . The department received increased budgetary allocations, enhanced status and additional staff. Efforts have been made to strengthen planning and operational mechanisms, resulting in a more effective, credible and accountable inspection service.

The Alliance conducted thorough inspections of factories associated with its member brands. These inspections assessed structural, electrical and fire safety and the overall working conditions. It identified safety deficiencies — categorized by severity — and factories were given a specific timeline for remediation. The Alliance actively worked with factory owners to ensure the necessary safety measures.

The Accord brought about tangible improvements through rigorous inspections, audits and remediation for 850 factories, benefitting over a million workers. These initiatives have created a ripple effect, fostering a culture of safety and compliance across the sector. Suppliers in Bangladesh have made significant safety improvements at their factories, with support from more than 220 brand signatories who have invested over 70 million USD to finance the Accord programs and operations in Bangladesh.

The commitment to workplace safety is evident in the multitude of workplace safety certifications achieved by Bangladesh’s RMG industry. With certifications from renowned organizations such as BSCI, Accord, WRAP SEDEX and more, around 18,000 workers are currently employed in facilities that adhere to the highest international safety standards. The country boasts 226 LEED-certified green RMG factories, with an additional 500 in the pipeline for certification. These certifications not only validate the industry’s commitment to safety but also provide assurance to international buyers and consumers.

Continuing to stand up for what is right

As of today, Bangladesh still has work to do in order to continue bettering its RMG industry. From January–September 2024, workers in Bangladesh were protesting the working conditions in RMG factories, revealing the persistent nature of the issues plaguing this industry. However, representatives for both the factory owners and workers were able to meet an agreement in late September that shows the continued promise for a better future in the sector. While Bangladesh is not fully reformed, it has managed to pull itself out of the shadows of industrial disasters and is now on its way to becoming a global exemplar for safety and sustainability. The nation’s commitment, backed by investments, collaborations and regulatory reforms, strives to ensure the safety of its RMG workers and positions the country as a torchbearer for other nations in the garment manufacturing sector. As Bangladesh continues to stride towards a future of safe, sustainable and responsible industry practices, the world watches, inspired by a nation that turned tragedy into triumph.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Worker safety in Bangladesh: Tragedy Turned into Triumph appeared first on Fair Observer.

The only area where there might be some hope for ending a war is Ukraine. Rubio has come close to Trump’s position on that matter, praising Ukraine for standing up to Russia, but recognizing that the US is funding a deadly “stalemate war” that needs to be “brought to a conclusion.”

But in all the other hotspots around the world, Rubio is likely to make conflicts even hotter, or start new ones. Here are eight reasons why he would make a dangerous secretary of state:

Rubio’s obsession with Cuban regime change will sink any chance of better relations there

Like other Cuban-American politicians, Rubio has built his career on vilifying the Cuban Revolution and trying to economically strangle and starve the people of his parents’ homeland into submission.

It is ironic, therefore, that his parents left Cuba before the Revolution, during the US-backed dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista. Batista’s executioners, secret police and death squads killed an estimated 20,000 people, leading to a wildly popular revolution in 1959.

When President Barack Obama began to restore relations with Cuba in 2014, Rubio swore to do “everything possible” to obstruct and reverse that policy. In May 2024, Rubio reiterated his zero-tolerance for any kind of social or economic contacts between the US and Cuba, claiming that any easing of the US blockade will only “strengthen the oppressive regime and undermine the opposition… Until there is freedom in Cuba, the United States must maintain a firm stance.” Two months earlier, Rubio introduced legislation to ensure that Cuba would remain on the US “State Sponsor of Terrorism List,” imposing sanctions that cut Cuba off from the US-dominated Western banking system.

These measures to destroy the Cuban economy have led to a massive wave of migration in the past two years. But when the US Coast Guard tried to coordinate with their Cuban counterparts, Rubio introduced legislation to prohibit such interaction. While Trump has vowed to stem immigration, his secretary of state wants to crush Cuba’s economy, forcing people to abandon the island and set sail for the US.

Applying Rubio’s anti-Cuba template to the rest of Latin America will make enemies of more of our neighbors

Rubio’s disdain for his ancestral home has served him so well as a US politician that he has extended it to the rest of Latin America. He has sided with extreme right-wing politicians like Argentinian President Javier Milei and former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro. He rails against progressive ones, from Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva to the popular Mexican former President López Obrador, whom he called “an apologist for tyranny” for supporting other leftist governments.

In Venezuela, Rubio has promoted brutal sanctions and regime change plots to topple the government of Nicolas Maduro. In 2019, he was one of the architects of Trump’s failed policy of recognizing opposition figure Juan Guaidó as president. He has also advocated for sanctions and regime change in Nicaragua.

In March 2023, Rubio urged President Joe Biden to impose sanctions on Bolivia for prosecuting  leaders of a 2019 US-backed coup that led to massacres that killed at least 21 people. He also condemned the government of Honduras for withdrawing from an extradition treaty with the US this past August. This was a response to decades of US interference that had turned Honduras into a narco-state riven by poverty, gang violence and mass emigration, until the election of democratic socialist President Xiomara Castro in January 2022.

Rubio’s major concern in this part of the world now seems to be the influence of China, which has become the second-largest trade partner of most Latin American countries. Unlike the US, China focuses on economic benefits and not internal politics. Meanwhile, US politicians like Rubio still see Latin America as the US’s “backyard.”

While Rubio’s virulent anti-leftist stands have served him well in climbing to senior positions in the US government, and now into Trump’s inner circle, his disdain for Latin American sovereignty bodes ill for US relations in the region.

Rubio insists that the US and Israel can do no wrong, and that God has given Palestine to Israel

Despite the massive death toll in Gaza and global condemnation of Israel’s genocide, Rubio still perpetuates the myth that “Israel takes extraordinary steps to avoid civilian losses” and that innocent people die in Gaza because Hamas has deliberately placed them in the way and used them as human shields. The problem, he says, is “an enemy that doesn’t value human life.”

In November 2024, when CODEPINK asked if Rubio would support a ceasefire, he replied, “On the contrary. I want them to destroy every element of Hamas they can get their hands on. These people are vicious animals.”

There are few times in this past year that the Biden administration has tried to restrain Israel, but when Biden begged Israel not to send troops into the southern city of Rafah, Rubio said that was like telling the Allied forces in World War II not to attack Berlin to get Adolf Hitler.

In a letter to Secretary of State Antony Blinken in August 2024, Rubio criticized the Biden administration’s decision to sanction Israeli settlers linked to anti-Palestinian violence in the occupied West Bank.

“Israel has consistently sought peace with the Palestinians. It is unfortunate that the Palestinians, whether it be the Palestinian Authority or FTOs [Foreign Terrorist Organisations] such as Hamas, have rejected such overtures,” Rubio wrote. “Israelis rightfully living in their historic homeland are not the impediment to peace; the Palestinians are,” he added.

No country besides Israel subscribes to the idea that its borders should be based on 2,000-year-old religious scriptures, and that it has a God-given right to displace or exterminate people who have lived there since then to reconquer its ancient homeland. The US will find itself extraordinarily isolated from the rest of the world if Rubio tries to assert that as a matter of US policy.

Rubio’s enmity toward Iran will fuel Israel’s war on its neighbors, and may lead the US to war

Rubio is obsessed with Iran. He claims that the central cause of violence and suffering in the Middle East is not Israeli policy but “Iran’s ambition to be a regional hegemonic power.” He says that Iran’s goal in the Middle East is to “seek to drive America out of the region and then destroy Israel.”

He has been a proponent of maximum pressure on Iran, including calls for more and more sanctions. He believes the US should not re-enter the Iran nuclear deal, saying: “We must not trade away U.S. and Israeli security for vague commitments from a terrorist-sponsoring regime that has killed Americans and threatens to annihilate Israel.”

Rubio calls Lebanon’s Hezbollah a “full blown agent of Iran right on Israel’s border” and claims that wiping out Hezbollah’s leadership, along with entire neighborhoods full of civilians, is a “service to humanity.” He alleges that Iran has control over Iraq, Syria and the Houthis in Yemen, and is a threat to Jordan. He claims that “Iran has put a noose around Israel,” and says the goal of US policy should be regime change in Iran. This would set the stage for war.

While there will hopefully be leaders in the Pentagon who will caution Trump about the perils of a war with Iran, Rubio will not be a voice of reason.

Rubio is beholden to big money, from the weapons industry to the Israel lobby

Rubio has reportedly received over $1 million in campaign contributions from pro-Israel groups during his career. The Pro-Israel America PAC was his single largest campaign contributor over the last five years. When he last ran for re-election in 2022, he was the third-largest recipient of funding by pro-Israel groups in the Senate, taking in $367,000 from them for that campaign.

Rubio was also the fourth-largest recipient of funding from the “defense” industry in the Senate for the 2022 cycle, receiving $196,000. Altogether, the weapons industry has invested $663,000 in his Congressional career.

Rubio is clearly beholden to the US arms industry. He’s even more beholden to the Israel lobby, which has been one of his largest sources of campaign funding. This has placed him in the vanguard of Congress’s blind, unconditional support for Israel and subservience to Israeli narratives and propaganda. Therefore, it is unlikely that he will ever challenge the ongoing extermination of the Palestinian people or their expulsion from their homeland.

Rubio is so antagonistic towards China that China has sanctioned him — twice

Speaking at the Heritage Foundation in 2022, Rubio said: “The gravest threat facing America today — it is the challenge that will define not just this century, but my generation and every generation represented here in this room today — that challenge is not climate change, it’s not the pandemic, it’s not the left’s version of social justice. The threat that will define this century is China.”

It will be hard for our nation’s “top diplomat” to ease tensions with a country he has so maligned. He antagonized China by co-sponsoring the Uyghur Forced Labor Prevention Act, which allows the US to bar Chinese imports over alleged Uyghur rights abuses — abuses that China denies and independent researchers question. In fact, Rubio has gone so far as to accuse China of a “grotesque campaign of genocide” against the Uyghurs.

On Taiwan, he has not only introduced legislation to increase military aid to the island, but actually supports Taiwanese independence — a dangerous deviation from the US government’s long-standing One China approach.

The Chinese responded to Rubio by sanctioning him, not once but twice: once regarding the Uyghurs and once for his support of Hong Kong protests. Unless China lifts the sanctions, he would be the first US secretary of state to be banned from even visiting China.

Analysts expect China to try to sidestep Rubio and engage directly with Trump and other senior officials. Steve Tsang, the director of the China Institute at the United Kingdom’s School of Oriental and African Studies, told Reuters, “If that doesn’t work, then I think we’re going to get into a much more regular escalation of a bad relationship.”

Rubio knows sanctions are a trap, but doesn’t know how to escape them

Rubio is a leading advocate of unilateral economic sanctions, which are illegal under international law, and which the UN and other countries refer to as “unilateral economic coercive measures.”

The US has used these measures so widely and wildly that they now impact a third of the world’s population. Officials from Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen to Rubio himself have warned that using the US financial system and the dollar’s reserve currency status as weapons against other countries is driving the rest of the world to conduct trade in other currencies and develop alternative financial systems.

In March 2023, Rubio complained on Fox News, “We won’t have to talk sanctions in five years, because there will be so many countries transacting in currencies other than the dollar that we won’t have the ability to sanction them.”

And yet Rubio has continued to be a leading sponsor of sanctions bills in the Senate. These include new sanctions on Iran in January 2024 and a bill in July to sanction foreign banks that participate in alternative financial systems.

While other countries develop new financial and trading systems to escape abusive, illegal US sanctions, the nominee for secretary of state remains caught in the same sanctions trap that he complained about on Fox.

Rubio wants to oppress US free speech

Rubio wants to curtail the right to free speech enshrined in the First Amendment of the US Constitution. In May, he described campus protests against Israel as a “complete breakdown of law and order.”

Rubio claimed to be speaking up for other students at US universities. “[They] paid a lot of money to go to these schools, [but are being disrupted by] a few thousand antisemitic zombies who have been brainwashed by two decades of indoctrination in the belief that the world is divided between victimizers and victims, and that the victimizers in this particular case, the ones that are oppressing people, are Jews in Israel,” Rubio said.

The Florida senator has said he supports Trump’s plan to deport foreign students who engage in pro-Palestinian campus protests. In April, he called for punishing supporters of the Israel boycott movement as part of efforts to counter antisemitism, falsely equating any attempt to respond to Israel’s international crimes with antisemitism.

And what about those crimes, which the students are protesting? After visiting Israel in May, Rubio wrote an article for National Review in which he never mentioned the thousands of civilians Israel has killed. He instead blamed Iran, Biden and “morally corrupt international institutions” for the crisis.

Rubio expects US citizens to believe that it is not genocide itself, but protests against genocide, that are a complete breakdown of law and order. He couldn’t be more wrong if he tried.

Students are not Rubio’s only target. In August 2023, he alleged that certain “far-left and antisemitic entities” may have violated the Foreign Assistance Registration Act by their ties to China. He called for a Justice Department investigation into 18 groups, starting with CODEPINK. These unfounded claims of Chinese connections are only meant to intimidate legitimate groups that are exercising their free speech rights.

Conclusion: Rubio is a dangerous choice for secretary of state.

On each of these issues, Rubio has shown no sign of understanding the difference between domestic politics and diplomacy. Whether he’s talking about Cuba, Palestine, Iran or China, or even about CODEPINK, all his supposedly tough positions are based on cynically mischaracterizing the actions and motivations of his enemies and then attacking the straw man he has falsely set up.

Unscrupulous politicians often get away with that, and Rubio is no exception. He has made it his signature tactic because it works so well for him in US politics. But that will not work if and when he sits down to negotiate with other world leaders as secretary of state.

His underlying attitude to foreign relations is, like Trump’s, that the US must get its way or else. Additionally, other countries who won’t submit must be coerced, threatened, couped, bombed or invaded. This makes Rubio just as ill-equipped as Blinken to conduct diplomacy, improve US relations with other countries or resolve disputes and conflicts peacefully, as the United Nations Charter requires.

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Eight Reasons Marco Rubio Would Be a Disastrous Secretary of State appeared first on Fair Observer.

Reuters, like the Pentagon itself, sought to reassure the public that, however poor the performance, the DoD’s intentions were good. (Cue the Nina Simone song, “I’m just a soul whose intentions are good; Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood…”)

For United States citizens, late 2021 was an odd moment in history. It was the first year of Joe Biden’s presidency. Following the withdrawal from Afghanistan in August 2021 after 20 years of war, the increasingly bloated US defense establishment was, for a few months, no longer visibly involved militarily, diplomatically or logistically in an overseas conflict. Yes, there was some action in Syria and even Iraq. But the public felt this as a moment of peacetime. The perfect opportunity to set one’s house in order.

Reuters cannot be blamed for failing to notice that the State Department was busy at the time setting the scene for a war with Russia as NATO — but not the US on its own — was putting increasing pressure on the Donbas region in Ukraine. No journalist could predict the Russian invasion that would take place three months later. It was indeed a privileged moment for reassessing the entire defense establishment’s capacity to manage and even audit its own accounts.

In the meantime, that war not only began but is still going on, with hundreds of billions of US defense expenses transferred to Ukraine. Even less predictable than Putin’s “unprovoked” invasion of Ukraine, was the equally “unprovoked” Gaza revolt of October 2023 that put the DoD money machine into overdrive as the ironclad commitment to Israel had to be respected, no matter what.

So, with all that unexpected activity and the complex politics that accompanies it, we should not be astonished today to discover that not too much has changed on the audit front.

This time it’s Brad Dress writing for The Hill who offers us what has now become a somewhat predictable and repetitive headline: “Pentagon fails 7th audit in a row but says progress made.”

But the Beatles certainly got it right, since, according to no less an authority than Under Secretary of Defense Comptroller and Chief Financial Officer Michael McCord, the Defense Department “has turned a corner in its understanding of the depth and breadth of its challenges.” He even gave a reading of the dynamics when he added: “Momentum is on our side, and throughout the Department there is strong commitment — and belief in our ability — to achieve an unmodified audit opinion.”

Today’s Weekly Devil’s Dictionary definition:

Strong commitment:

In the language of military officials, vague intention, which is a generous reading for something that more likely means “a weak non-commitment.”

Contextual note

It may sound abusive to claim that a phrase such as “strong commitment” can mean literally its opposite, as we propose in our definition. But meaning comes from context. In baseball, a 7-0 shutout is a weak performance, and this one resembles a “no-hitter.”

But there is another linguistic test we can apply to determine the meaning here. If a Silicon Valley entrepreneur makes a statement such as, “We have a strong commitment to rival the market leader,” no one will doubt that the company’s focus will be squarely on achieving that goal. In contrast, we learn from McCord that “throughout the Department there is strong commitment.” First, we should notice that “there is” signifies a passive assertion, compared to the type of formulation that identifies a determined will. The “we” in “we have a strong commitment” includes the speaker. McCord’s assertion is so vague it would be true even if he himself didn’t for a moment share the commitment.

McCord uses the idea of “throughout the Department” to rhetorically magnify the effect, but instead it dilutes it. “Throughout” suggests a dispersion in space, a diffuse feeling rather than the kind of moral engagement one would expect him to affirm. But it’s his following parenthesis that gives the game away. He speaks of a “belief in our ability.” The idea of “belief” is considerably weaker than, say, “confidence in our ability.” Belief expresses a form of hope that relies on no concrete evidence.

McCord allows the fog of his reasoning to thicken. “I do not say we failed, as I said, we have about half clean opinions. We have half that are not clean opinions. So if someone had a report card that is half good and half not good, I don’t know that you call the student or the report card a failure. We have a lot of work to do, but I think we’re making progress.”

At least the Beatles affirmed that it’s getting better all the time, not that they “think” they’re making progress.

Historical note

In a January 2022 Devil’s Dictionary piece, we cited the reflections of an observer of Beltway politics who provided a clue as to why things need not get better all the time. “None of the ‘centrist’ Democrats or Republicans who complained about the cost of the Build Back Better Act have said a peep about the ever-growing Pentagon budget — and the fact that it is somehow still growing even despite the Afghanistan pullout. It has grown about 25% in size over the past five years, even though the Pentagon just failed its fourth audit last month.”

We cited an earlier article from 2019 that began with this astonishing sentence: “A Michigan State University economics professor discovered $21 trillion unaccounted for in the federal budget starting in 1998 until the end of fiscal year 2015.”

In other words, there is no reason to be surprised today that a “strong commitment” to conduct accurate audits is necessary and will continue to make headlines… probably for decades to come. And the only change will be similar to what we’ve already seen when, three years later, four failed audits turn into seven.

But let’s look more deeply at the historical context. The latest article cites what appears to be a serious deadline, only four years away. “The Pentagon said it is firmly committed to achieving a clean audit by 2028, as mandated by the 2024 National Defense Authorization Act.”

This leaves us wondering. Could this be related to another commitment we’ve been hearing about? Some will call it not so much a commitment, but a belief widely shared in national security circles and that concerns the medium term: that a war with China has been at least “mentally” programmed for 2027. Noah Robertson writing for Defense News this May published a two-part article with the title: “How DC became obsessed with a potential 2027 Chinese invasion of Taiwan.”

This leaves us speculating about why 2028 was chosen as the objective. How convenient a hot war with China would turn out to be for anyone seeking to avoid having to face up to the first “clean audit” the following year. Who would dare to demand accountability in the midst, or even the aftermath of a hot war with China?

So, how much “confidence” should we have in the breakout of a war with China in 2027? Remember, this forecast of a war at a precise date was formulated at a time when no one expected Donald Trump to be elected for a second time. It isn’t Trump’s volatility that explains it, nor his promise to focus his attention on China rather than Russia.

Robertson explained the logic by citing a Joe Biden administration official who paraphrased the remarks of Chinese President Xi Jinping: “Look, I hear all these reports in the United States [of] how we’re planning for military action in 2027 or 2035.” Xi affirms: “There are no such plans.” Which many interpret as the proof that such plans do exist.

“That first year, 2027,” Robertson says, “is a fixation in Washington. It has impacted the debate over China policy — a shift from the long term to the short term. It’s also helped steer billions of dollars toward U.S. forces in the Pacific. And in the last several years, it’s been a question mark hanging over the Biden administration’s approach to the region.”

There’s the answer to the mystery of the failed audits. We know that the military-industrial complex is all about helping to “steer billions of dollars” in any chosen direction. At the same time, one steers one’s regard away from the auditor’s books.

*[In the age of Oscar Wilde and Mark Twain, another American wit, the journalist Ambrose Bierce produced a series of satirical definitions of commonly used terms, throwing light on their hidden meanings in real discourse. Bierce eventually collected and published them as a book, The Devil’s Dictionary, in 1911. We have shamelessly appropriated his title in the interest of continuing his wholesome pedagogical effort to enlighten generations of readers of the news. Read more of Fair Observer Devil’s Dictionary.]

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post The Pentagon’s Flawed Account of Its Failure to Keep Accounts appeared first on Fair Observer.

My lifelong fascination with Hindu mythology compelled me to bring the Tridevi to life in a unique format. The success of my initial portrayal of these goddesses confirmed my belief that modern audiences are eager for stories that blend ancient wisdom with contemporary themes. This initial inspiration, fueled by meticulous research into ancient texts and sacred scriptures, set me on a path filled with creativity and imagination. I desired to create a series that honored the rich traditions of Hinduism while presenting them in a fresh, accessible way for today’s readers.

Durga the Divine Warrior was a global success

The first installment of the series, Durga the Divine Warrior, introduced readers to Durga. Durga is a warrior goddess who embodies empowerment and justice. Known for her tenacity, she is celebrated for protecting the universe from evil. Her stories are filled with dramatic battles and heartfelt moments of maternal care, making her a complex yet relatable figure. 

In this graphic novel, readers are taken on a journey from Durga’s divine birth and subsequent upbringing in lush forests to her epic battles against the forces of evil. Durga’s battles symbolize the eternal fight between good and evil. Her victories are a testament to the power of righteousness and inner strength.

The art style of Durga the Divine Warrior is nothing if not vibrant and dynamic. The bold colors capture the ferocity of the battles and the serene beauty of the natural landscapes.

The reception to Durga the Divine Warrior was overwhelmingly positive. The book was picked up by readers at the Frankfurt Book Fair in Germany, attracting a diverse audience beyond the Indian community. The same enthusiasm was seen at the Bologna Children’s Book Fair in Italy Both Durga the Divine Warrior and its sequel Saraswati’s Gift received a warm reception and were nearly sold out. 

Fans appreciated Durga’s multidimensional character and connected strongly with Durga’s themes of empowerment and justice. The overwhelmingly positive feedback led me to explore the intellectual and prosperity aspects of the Tridevi in subsequent books. This global appreciation from readers inspired me to continue the Tridevi series, knowing there was a strong desire for more stories about these powerful goddesses.

Embracing knowledge and creativity in Saraswati’s Gift

The success of Durga the Divine Warrior inspired me to delve into the story of Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge and arts. Saraswati represents the pursuit of wisdom and creativity. Her story is a celebration of the arts and intellect. In this installment, readers follow Saraswati closely as she imparts knowledge, fosters creativity, and navigates challenges that test her wisdom and resolve.

Soft palettes and a serene and fluid art style reflects the calm and contemplative nature of Saraswati’s domains. The art captures the ethereal beauty of Saraswati’s world, creating a tranquil and inspiring atmosphere. Through the art, readers grasp the themes of intellectual growth and creativity.

Saraswati is depicted as a serene and wise goddess who guides mortals towards enlightenment and creativity. Her journey emphasizes the transformative power of learning and self-discovery, which shaped the direction of the series. The self-discovery and intellectual journey of Saraswati resonated strongly with the audience. Readers were particularly drawn to the theme of the transformative power of learning. She certainly is an inspiring figure for readers of all ages. 

A glimpse into the future of the Tridevi 

Encouraged by the positive reception to the intellectual and artistic themes in Saraswati’s Gift, I had the compelling need to complete the Tridevi saga with Lakshimi’s story of inner wealth and generosity. Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity, is revered for her ability to bring abundance and success. From her modest beginnings to her rise as a revered deity, readers will witness Lakshmi’s challenges and teachings on spiritual wealth and abundance. 

A rich and detailed art style alongside a warm color scheme emphasizes the themes of wealth and prosperity. The opulent art of Lakshmi’s world contrasts with her humble origins to highlight her journey.

In Lakshmi’s Light, the narrative shifts to focus on the narrator Meera. Meera played an active role alongside Saraswati in Saraswati’s Gift. Meera’s journey is intertwined with Lakshmi’s teachings, but it is Meera who leads the story. This shift allows readers to see how ordinary individuals can find inspiration in divine figures and apply those lessons to their own lives. 

Lakshimi’s journey from modest beginnings to divine status illustrates the virtues of generosity, ethics, and the true meaning of prosperity. Her story explores the balance between material wealth and spiritual fulfillment, emphasizing that true prosperity comes from within.

The anticipation for Lakshmi’s Light has been fueled by the enthusiasm from readers who have expressed excitement for the themes of prosperity and ethical success that shape Lakshmi’s narrative depth. Readers’ insights will be invaluable in crafting a compelling and inspiring conclusion to the series.

Reflecting on the journey of humanizing the Tridevi

The most unique aspect of the Tridevi series is how the involvement of the goddesses varies across the books. In Durga the Divine Warrior, Durga herself is the lead character. She directly confronts the forces of evil and showcases her strength and resilience. In Saraswati’s Gift, Meera, the narrator, plays a more active role. The collaboration between mortal and goddess emphasizes the interplay between divine inspiration and human effort. In Lakshmi’s Light, the focus shifts even further towards the mortal perspective. The lead character is a little girl who embarks on a journey of self-discovery and finds traces of inspiration in divine goddesses. 

The approach of humanizing the Tridevi allows readers to see how the teachings of the goddesses can be integrated into everyday life.The divine is more accessible and relatable through the purposeful art and themes of the Tridevi. I am grateful for the opportunity to shape these stories through on reader interactions. Feedback ensures the themes resonate deeply with readers and that the characters remain relatable and inspiring.

The global success of the series, from the Frankfurt Book Fair to the Bologna Children’s Book Fair, has reaffirmed the universal appeal of these stories. The overwhelmingly positive reception and the near sell-out of the books have been a testament to the timeless allure of Hindu mythology and the enduring power of storytelling.

As we anticipate the release of Lakshmi’s Light, I invite you to join in celebrating the enchantment of  Hindu mythology and the enduring power of storytelling. Here’s to the Tridevi and the limitless possibilities that lie ahead.

[Cheyenne Torres edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post The Birth of a Saga: My Journey with the Tridevi Graphic Novel Series appeared first on Fair Observer.

Similarly, ‘Dalit literature’ has been equated with texts produced by writers with a ‘Dalit consciousness’ (Muktibodh 1992: 267). What, then, determines this Dalit consciousness? How do you develop it? Is it different from simply being Dalit, i.e., can non-Dalits have Dalit consciousness? Are there Dalits who do not have it, and why not? Finally, how do we judge the authenticity of it, either its experience or its expression?

Limbale goes so far as to suggest that the character of Dalit consciousness is univocal. He writes, ‘The experiences narrated in Dalit literature are very similar. Untouchables’ experiences of untouchability are identical’ (2004: 35). This is precisely challenged by Navaria, who separates groups and classes within Dalits. He emphasises ‘Worlds within Worlds’. The key concept, as Brueck (353) points out, around which most Dalit authors and critics—Limbale, Valmiki, Naimishray—rally is the idea of ‘Dalit consciousness’. There is a sense in their work of a singular ‘consciousness’ that for them underlies the emergence of Dalit literature. Further, it is a gauge to test the authenticity of any given work. ‘The function of the theoretical concept of Dalit consciousness is articulated in the expressive and interpretive practices of writing and reading. Dalit consciousness has emerged in recent years in a large body of Dalit literary criticism as a theoretical tool with which the architects of Dalit literary culture are able to set boundaries for the growing genre of Dalit literature as well as launch a distinctly Dalit critique of celebrated works of Hindi literature’ (Brueck 353).

In many ways, Navaria echoes mainstream Dalit consciousness. He shows Premchand in a dream sequence, and refers to him in other places in a critical vein, similar to other Dalit critics. He speaks repeatedly about Ambedkar as the beacon light for Dalits from whom they derive, or should derive, their primary energy. However, in the same dream sequence, he shows many sleeping homes who do not respond to a call to rise in the name of Ambedkar. His constant comparisons with gender and feminism, class conflict and Marxism, and global inequality and postcolonial thought, all serve to argue further the point about internal differentiation, and the utter and total lack of any unity of consciousness.

Navaria must have worried about this:

…arbiters of Dalit literature are constructing a critical framework based on the rhetorical practice of strategic essentialism. Dalit consciousness is the Dalit literary sphere’s rendering of this practice for the political purpose of making an intervention into the mainstream literary-cultural sphere and claiming there a small space of their own in which they have the power to determine, by means of this essentialist concept, what authors and what texts may also share that space. (Brueck 355).

Brueck’s invocation of Gayatri Spivak’s 1985 piece on strategic essentialism is reminiscent of Marx’s emphasis on the singularity of the working class, which many subsequent Marxists challenged. Similarly for feminists, there is always a negotiation between the politically expedient one-ness of women, and by implication, men, and the existential and artistic reality of plurality, easily recoverable in research (see Kumar 1994, 2001.)

My own experience as a translator of this novel may contribute to the discussion of Dalit consciousness. If I am not a Dalit, should I feel diffident as a writer in translating and speaking for Dalit consciousness? I have never hesitated to write about the West (though from the East), about men (though a woman), about lower classes (though privileged), and about disabled or otherwise disadvantaged people while personally sharing none of their disadvantage.

Partly, I have treated ‘difference metaphorically. Thus, for me, the ‘wretched of the earth’ are not only the materially or politically dispossessed, which I am not, but the otherwise victimised as well, such as those who suddenly, unaccountably, lose their beloved, as I did. We, all the hurt and abandoned who experience that loss, are the true and authentic ‘wretched of the earth’. Partly, I have achieved an intellectual self-confidence where I can justify speaking for the ‘Other’ precisely because no one is essentially fixed in ‘one’ identity or category, either ‘the self ’ or ‘the other’. Imagine my surprise, then, to discover myself responsible for a novel in which all the characters are Dalit and everyone is judged by their caste, and no savarna voice can speak for lower castes or Dalits.

Really?

But if I plead the case that mine is as authentic a voice as anyone’s, am I saying that the author Ajay Navaria has not succeeded in depicting the existential suffering of Dalits but, once again, shown caste to be merely a discourse, a category, a weapon used differentially?

To some extent, yes. The author, just like the narratorprotagonist in the novel, is himself privileged. Not only is the narrator-protagonist educated, well-off and sophisticated in his consciousness, he is fair and good-looking. He has rich and successful friends. A Dalit is by definition downtrodden. Once you are not downtrodden, you are not a Dalit. It is analogous to my weeping of the woes of ‘women’ without acknowledging that, along with me, many women are, in fact, supremely privileged and powerful. And if the privileged insider can speak of their downtrodden communities, so can the intelligent, aware outsider who is not of the same blood lineage but shares the politics.

The author questions it all. One could wish that he would question yet more, or less, depending on one’s perspective.

There is, however, another dimension of pain. ‘I had not asked his caste,’ he says. ‘I had understood by now that people with my non-casteist thinking were in a tiny minority in our society.’ There is this tiny group that one may belong to. One may then feel marginalized and misunderstood by the majoritarian groups. To have no voice is painful no matter where you stand.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Worlds Within Worlds, Ajay Navaria, translated by Nita Kumar, Niyogi Books, 2024.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Worlds Within Worlds appeared first on Fair Observer.

I have been fascinated by all things handcrafted, especially textiles. Since the last few years, I have been trying to identify the exceptional qualities, beyond heritage value, of handloom fabrics to differentiate these products from machine-made textiles, and to emphasise their uniqueness for these fabrics to continue being relevant in present times. These deliberations led me to Gandhiji’s writings to understand how and why he chose khaddar, the coarse handspun and handwoven cotton worn by the common man, which he named ‘khadi’, as a symbol of India’s Independence.

During India’s struggle for freedom from British rule, social and political activism reached new heights under the visionary leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He saw the revival of the local village economy as the key to India’s spiritual and economic regeneration and he envisioned homespun khadi as the catalyst for India’s economic independence. Khadi became the fabric of the freedom struggle, and the charkha, the spinning wheel, the symbol of India’s Independence Movement. Rahul Ramagundam in his book, Gandhi’s Khadi, mentions that ‘Gandhi’s khadi movement, in many substantive ways, was the first social movement in modern India that brought poverty to the centre stage of Indian consciousness and made livelihood rights an issue of mass mobilisation’.

Soon after Gandhiji returned to India from South Africa in May 1915, he established the Satyagraha Ashram with 25 residents at Kochrab, Ahmedabad, and in July 1917, the ashram was shifted to a new location on the banks of the river Sabarmati. It was collectively decided that all the members of the ashram should wear khadi. Their objective was to stop using the imported mill-made cloth, which benefited the British at the expense of the Indian artisans, and clothe themselves in fabrics created by their own hands.

The American Civil War (1861–1865) had caused a shortage of American cotton, and Britain started buying raw cotton from India. Indian cotton was exported to Britain, starving its own looms of raw material, and cheaper British machine-made yarn and manufactured cloth were sent back to India taking away the livelihood of millions of men and women who earned a living by spinning yarn manually. Before the Industrial Revolution, Indian fabrics had been in great demand in Britain and comprised almost 70 per cent of the East India Company’s exports, but later, Britain had imposed restrictions on their import, and the multitude of people involved in the production of cotton textiles in India had been affected.

Everyone at the ashram was willing to learn to spin and wear the khadi fabric produced from their own handspun yarn but they could not find either a spinning wheel or someone to teach them how to spin. Around this time, Gandhiji was invited to preside at the Broach Educational Conference where he met Gangaben Majmundar, a remarkable woman with an enterprising spirit. Gandhiji requested her to look for spinning wheels, and after a long search she found what she was looking for in Vijapur, in what was then Baroda State. Many in this region had spinning wheels stored in their lofts as there was no demand for handspun yarn since the market was flooded with the imported yarn from Britain. They expressed their willingness to resume spinning if they were assured of a steady supply of cotton slivers, and that the yarn they produced would be bought back.

Gandhiji mentioned the need for a regular supply of cotton slivers to Umar Sobani, a textile mill owner, who willingly sent the sliver ropes from his spinning mill to Gangaben, and soon, vast quantities of yarn began to pour in from Vijapur. Gandhiji could not take Umar Sobani’s generosity for granted, and he also realised that it was morally wrong to use mill-made slivers. Once again, Gandhiji requested Gangaben to find a person who would be willing to teach a few youngsters to clean and card cotton by hand and make slivers. She went a step further and also found weavers to weave the yarn that was spun in Vijapur, and soon, Vijapur khadi gained a solid reputation.

While these developments were taking place in Vijapur, the spinning wheel gained a strong footing at the ashram. Maganlal Gandhi, who was closely associated with the Satyagraha Movement, was able to make some improvements in the traditional spinning wheel. He developed a new model of the box charkha with a double-wheel drive, which helped control its speed, and was an improvement as far as comfort, productivity and portability were concerned. Gandhiji led by example and spun for an hour every day. All ashram inmates started wearing khadi and were encouraged to spin daily for a minimum of one hour. They realised that apart from creating the yarn for their clothing, spinning calmed their minds, helped to increase their focus and was a meditative experience.

Gandhiji wore Indian mill-made dhotis but was impatient to start wearing only handspun and handwoven cotton khadi, but the coarse khadi produced at the ashram and at Vijapur was only 30 inches (76 cm) in width. He asked Gangaben to find a weaver who could weave a khaddar dhoti in 45 inches (114 cm) width for him. She managed this within a month and, soon after, there was a full-fledged weaving centre at the ashram to weave sarees, dhotis and running yardage. This was the beginning of the Khadi Movement. Soon after, spinning and weaving were elevated to an ideology for promoting self-reliance and self-government. To identify with the poor, in 1921 Gandhiji changed from formal Gujarati clothing to a simple, short dhoti and a shawl from formal Gujarati attire.

In the past, the charkha had supplemented agricultural income. It was a friend of the poor, the solace of the widow who was shunned by society, and kept the villagers from idleness. Every village had a family of weavers who wove coarse cotton fabrics without any patterns for use by the local communities. The weavers were supported by the women in the family who, in their free time, spun the yarn and created the bobbins for weaving. They had all lost their livelihood to the machine-made fabrics from Britain that were flooding the markets. The new demand for khadi provided them with regular work and rescued them from abject poverty. Gandhiji did not just revive India’s flagging handloom industry, he made the humble handspun khadi fabric the symbol of the Swadeshi Movement. He wrote: ‘Swaraj (self-rule) without swadeshi (goods made in the country) is a lifeless corpse and if swadeshi is the soul of swaraj, khadi is the essence of swadeshi.’ Through his initiative, khadi became not only a symbol of resistance but the face of an Indian identity, ‘The message of the spinning wheel was much wider than its circumference.’

Gandhiji saw khadi as a tool for reviving the village economy but he never suggested that ‘those, who are more lucratively employed should give up their employment and prefer spinning’. As he clarified to Charlie Chaplin in 1931, ‘The return to spinning did not mean a rejection of all modern technology but of the exploitative and controlling economic and political system in which textile manufacture had become entangled. Machinery in the past has made us dependent on England, and the only way we can rid ourselves of the dependence is to boycott all goods made by machinery.’ He continues ‘This is why we have made it the patriotic duty of every Indian to spin his own cotton and weave his own cloth.’

When Gandhiji encouraged people across India to boycott clothes made in Britain, spin their own yarn and wear khadi, he was encouraging them to rediscover their heritage as well as to support handloom production in rural centres. This understated masterstroke took the Freedom Movement beyond the rarefied circles of the social elite and out to the masses.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Crafting a Future: Stories of Indian Textiles and Sustainable Practices, Archana Shah, Niyogi Books, 2021.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Crafting a Future: Stories of Indian Textiles and Sustainable Practices appeared first on Fair Observer.

Overview of the criminal law reforms

In July, the government of Prime Minister Narendra Modi replaced India’s three most important pillars of criminal law — the Indian Penal Code (IPC), Code of Criminal Procedure and Indian Evidence Act — with the Bharatiya Nyay Sanhita. According to Home Minister Amit Shah, around 313 changes have been proposed, which include stricter punishments for rapes of minors, an increase in the sentence for rape from seven to ten years, mandatory digital recording of statements from victims of sexual assault and placing a 30-day time limit on delivering judgments — with the goal of achieving a conviction rate of 90%. 

The Kolkata case

Sexual assault conviction rates are abysmally low in India, standing at between 27–28% between 2018 and 2022 — to say nothing of reporting rates, which are unmeasurably low. Public outrage on India’s rape crisis was reignited on August 9, 2024, and thousands more have taken to the streets around the country in solidarity.

The case is set to be heard on October 1 and will be tried under the BNS, which Chief Justice of India (CJI) Chandrachud said has made “much needed improvements…to protect victim interests and carry out the investigation and prosecution of offences efficiently.” Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee’s proposed legislation challenges the BNS rape punishments, as capital punishment is at present, given to rapists of minors under the age of 12 or gang-rape of minors under the age of 18. In the Indian state of Bengal, the death penalty was carried out three times in 2022. This number is much lower than the incidences of either offense.

Critiques of the new criminal code

“You can’t tinker with the law anymore, be it the BNS or other reforms. The question is implementation. These are all gimmicks — they don’t identify the problem of rape at the root,” said Rebecca John, Supreme Court advocate and leading criminal lawyer (also defending the Booker-prize winning author Arundhati Roy). 

“We have retained every ugly colonial aspect of the old criminal code — particularly marital rape,” she continued. Home Minister Shah had presented the BNS as a decolonial effort, stating that “about 77 years after independence, our criminal justice system…will function on Indian ethos.”

I also interviewed Senior Supreme Court Advocate and leading human rights lawyer Colin Gonsalves, who expressed skepticism of the mandated digital documentation of rape victim testimonies and criminal complaints (First Information Reports), praised as a “significant step” by CJI Chandrachud. “Videography is a tricky business,” Gonsalves said. “Take the case of Afzal Guru [terrorist charged with the 2001 Indian parliament attack]. His hands and feet were tied to the chair, and he had a policeman on the left and right. But they only filmed his face. Videography doesn’t guarantee police transparency.” 

Challenges of collecting evidence

Furthermore, most states do not have the forensic infrastructure to implement the kind of documentation of sexual assault claims laid out in the BNS. Forensic teams are mandated to visit a crime scene if rape is suspected (and for all crimes carrying a sentence of seven years or more.) However, at present, only 10%–12% of cases are referred to forensic labs, of which there are only seven in the country. Half of all forensic cases are still pending.

Implications for the accused

Interestingly, the BNS poses a threat to those accused of sexual assault and other offenses — who are also supposed to be innocent until proven guilty. Gonsalves stated that “the biggest concern is the laws surrounding police custody.” The police were previously able to hold suspects for up to 15 days for non-terror offenses without filing charges or bail, and can now hold them for up to 180 days. Other checks and balances on police custody, such as regular medical examinations to prevent torture or registering the arresting and supervising officers, have been struck. 

Previous guidelines per 1997’s DK Basu v. State of Bengal ruling to protect and compensate victims of police abuse are no longer being incorporated. “Torture happens in police custody, we know that,” Gonsalves said. “This contravenes Article 21 of the Indian Constitution, the right to life, and Article 14, equality before the law, by promoting manifest arbitrariness.”  

What to do about the judicial backlog?

The laws have been accused of worsening the judicial backlog. Lawyer and activist Indira Jaising estimated in an op-ed that the new criminal code would increase the pendency of criminal cases by 30%, which may obstruct the BNS’s mandate to deliver justice within three years. As of January 2024, the backlog is estimated to take around 300 years to clear. This is particularly problematic for sexual assault victims, who often do not report in fear of or are retraumatized by cases that stretch on for years.

However, some reforms are certainly a step in the right direction. These include online filing of judgments, mandatory police status update on rape cases within 90 days, expansion of underage human trafficking provisions to boys and girls and a 30-day time limit on delivering judgments after trial.

As for the Kolkata case, it remains to be seen how the courts handle it. “We are outraged by the amount of violence perpetrated on the victim in near-pornographic detail, but not the violence of the crime itself,” John said. “Until that changes, this will keep happening.”

[Tanisha Desai edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post How Does Indian Law Now Treat Sexual Assault Victims — and the Accused? appeared first on Fair Observer.

The Nampūtiri men of Perinchalloore were acclaimed for their scholastic eminence. Their intellectual engagements included debates and discourses, especially on the Vedas, literature and grammar. Scholars from far-off places came to partake of them, gauge their own erudition and earn fame and recognition if they triumphed in debate.

At some point, the spectre of barrenness came to loom over a reputed Nampūtiri family in Perinchalloore. To avoid the family line ending thereupon, the elders sought to offer special prayers to propitiate their deity, Rayaramangalathu Bhagavati, in the hope of being blessed with a baby boy. But a baby girl was born instead. The parents and even other family members accepted her as the family goddess’s gift. Thus, she was named Daivakanya, meaning both god’s own girl and a young and virgin goddess.

Devi was exceptionally bright. She was given the best possible education in those times. As per the custom, her family members counted on her to preserve the family’s legacy, even though she would become a member of her husband’s family upon wedlock. She utilised the rich library of her family and forebears to enhance her scholarship and was soon considered a child prodigy. Her fame spread like fragrance in the breeze, sweet and swift.

Nonetheless, the other scholars of Perinchalloore refrained from recognising her scholarship because of her gender. Many of them tried to shut her down in public debates. But all of them routinely failed, resulting in their ego and reputation being bruised. Devi’s renown for her scholarship and beauty spread far and wide.

As a practice among the then Nampūtiri clans, she was to be married off when she turned twelve. Devi’s stipulation that she would marry the one who defeats her in a debate was accepted by her father. The wedding was scheduled. Aspirants from around prepared to compete, starting to reach the venue a couple of days before the scheduled date. But none could defeat her in the first two days.

Realising that it was nearly impossible to win over Devi in debates and that she would be a significant threat to them in the future, some of the influential Nampūtiri scholars conspired to disparage her. As planned, the next day, they steered the debate to the nine basic rasas (feelings), asking her about the most significant among those. Shringara (that exudes the kama rasa or eroticism), she replied promptly. Their following query was on the most intense suffering. The pangs of childbirth, she responded. She had won, but all those astute men assembled sniggered, ‘How can a virgin answer these questions so accurately?’

There were many takers for this line of slander and character assassination. The ‘wise’ men unanimously decreed that she wasn’t a virgin. She was insulted publicly. She had experienced the elation of sex and undergone the throes of labour in secret, was their ruling. Her father’s pleas fell on deaf ears since nobody wished to displease the hardliners in the community, whose decisions were interpreted as ‘God’s dictum’. Loose talk about her self-esteem spread quickly, amounting to her being ostracised and the wedding cancelled.

Profoundly distressed and determined that she would establish the truth, Devi walked away. She politely declined to accept the landed properties¹ that her father wanted to assign her to take care of future expenses. Nonetheless, he arranged for a kāryasthan² to provide her with essential facilities such as food and clothing.

Devi moved forward, undeterred. On the way to the Eachikkulangara Srinarayana temple, she prayed as if she were doing penance. On the fortieth day, Devi was driven by the desire to leave her body. She wanted to jump into the fire to prove her innocence. The next day, Devi woke up at the Brahma muhurta,³ walked away after praying at the temple, and shortly reached Karivellur. She thought it was the ideal place to end her life on earth.

She made a pyre, lit it and, praying all the while, leapt into it. She kept aside one of her anklets before leaping in. To achieve her goal, she needed a much bigger fire. A Thiyyan⁴ was passing by carrying bundles of dried coconut. She pleaded with him to empty it into the flames, as Agni (fire) was scared to touch her. The man, realising the enigma, fled. (It is believed that Thiyyan is later deified as Kaikkōlan Theyyam.)

A stoic Devi continued waiting. After a while, she saw a Muchilōṭan⁵ coming with coconut oil needed at the Rayaramangalam (also known as Dayaramangalam) temple at Pilicode. This time Devi’s entreaties for help worked. Sensing her divinity and praying, ‘let the fire be put out,’ he poured the oil onto the pyre. Blessing the Muchilōṭan, Devi disappeared, engulfed by flames. Shocked and terrified, the Muchilōṭan searched the pyre in vain and returned home instead of continuing his journey. He saw his empty thuththika (pot for carrying oil) moving fast and the fuel flowing out of it after a while.⁶ He realised that Devi was Goddess Bhagavati herself, incarnated. (This Muchilōṭan was later deified as Thalachchiravan Daivaṃ, worshipped by the Vāṇiya as the foremost Muchilōṭan.)

One morning, the kāryasthan deputed to follow the ostracised Daivakanya got worried upon not seeing her at the Eachikkulangara temple. In search of her, he reached Kottaparambu in Karivellur, owned by Panikkassery Nambi. There he saw an extinguished pyre and one of her anklets nearby.

The mystified kāryasthan returned, reported the matter to her parents, and handed over the anklet. They prayed for her salvation. Soon, the Brahmin scholars instrumental in ruining her reputation, and their kin, faced many tragedies and succumbed to illnesses such as smallpox, leprosy and insanity. Nobody knew what happened to that anklet; most likely, it was passed on and destroyed in the annals of time. During the Theyyam festivals nearby, rituals are conducted adjacent to the spot where the incident was believed to have occurred, subsequently known as Theekkuzhichchāl. During the night of the pooram day, the Kōmaraṃs of Muchilōṭṭu Bhagavati and Rayaramangalathu Bhagavati meet at this spot as a part of the ritual. This original site is now taken over by the newly constructed national highway.

Subsequently, Muchilōṭan’s wife, while drawing water, happened to have an apparition of Muchilōṭṭu Bhagavati in full attire inside the well.⁷ Astrological deliberations that followed pointed towards the deceased Devi’s divinity and suggested that Daivakanya be deified as Bhagavati Theyyam at the places of worship in their Muchilōṭṭu community. Muchilōṭṭu Bhagavati thus became the consecrated deity at all the entailing annual festivals of Muchilōṭṭs, beginning with Karivellur, the foremost one.

It is one of the positively gorgeous Theyyams that attracts a vast throng, irrespective of caste or religious differences.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Theyyam: Indian Folk Ritual Theatre—an Insider’s Vision, K. K. Gopalakrishnan, Niyogi Books, 2024.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Theyyam: Indian Folk Ritual Theatre—an Insider’s Vision appeared first on Fair Observer.

Prabowo’s sweeping victory is a shock as the former general is a deeply unpopular figure in the region. Papua has seen decades of strife over local independence ambitions and brutal military crackdowns, and distrust of military personnel is widespread. So why did Prabowo secure such a victory? 

The good and the bad: Jokowi’s policy in the region of Papua

One plausible explanation for Prabowo’s electoral success in Papua might be the “Jokowi effect,” named for outgoing President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo. Jokowi’s eldest son, Gibran Rakabuming Raka, is Prabowo’s running mate. While Jokowi cannot officially support them, Prabowo and Gibran are considered “continuity” candidates. Supporters of Jokowi are partial to Prabowo as a result.

In addition, Jokowi is popular for his stance on Papua. Many residents see his progress in the region as encouraging. Jokowi visited Papua at least 14 times — more than any previous Indonesian president — demonstrating his commitment to the region. Over his two terms, he has sought to invest in the Papua region via infrastructure projects such as highways and airports. Papua was also offered the opportunity to host the Indonesia National Games in October 2021 in an effort to showcase the administration’s dedication to the development of the region and dispel public skepticism about safety.

But Jokowi’s approach to Papua was heavily criticized, especially for his intense military operations. The government pointed to the need to maintain public order, particularly when it came to the separatist groups in the region. At times, these military sweeps targeted civilians.

As recently as February 2024, a viral video showed a group of Indonesian soldiers subjecting a West Papuan man to torture in a barrel filled with water after a military raid in the districts of Omukia and Gome in the Central Papua province. The soldiers repeatedly struck, elbowed and kicked the man, cutting him with a knife as he sat in a pool of his own blood.

On the one hand, residents of Papua should not ignore the progress made in the region through infrastructure development, improved reputation and persistent visits, but on they other, neither should they ignore the lack of constructive dialogue with local Papuans concerning the continued persecutions of civilians by the Indonesian military. 

Prabowo’s tainted past in Papua

The question is whether the Prabowo presidency will be any different for the region of Papua. The simple answer is no. There are feelings among analysts, journalists and human rights activists, as well as some local Papuans, that the situation in the region might become even more dire.

This concern is largely attributable to Prabowo’s past human rights record as well as his strongman persona, which is reminiscent of his years as an army general under previous president and dictator Suharto. West Papua was one of Prabowo’s former stomping grounds, and he was allegedly involved in civilian deaths during the Mapeduma hostage crisis. 

The Mapenduma hostage crisis took place in 1996 when the Free Papua Movement (OPM) took 26 hostages in the fight for Papua’s independence from Indonesia. During the rescue effort, the Indonesian Army Special Forces allegedly used a helicopter commonly flown by the Red Cross, ultimately misleading the OPM. This led to several civilian casualties.

However, these allegations are not substantial. Besides, Prabowo might now be a changed man. However, his recent actions provide indications of what a Prabowo presidency will look like for Papua once he steps into the presidential palace in October 2024.

The stance that Prabowo took in regards to Freeport McMoran – a massive American mining company in West Papua – during his 2019 campaign should set off some warning bells. Prabowo referred to the company as a “big investor that we should not bother but help” despite the fact that the company has a reputation for violating the rights of the indigenous population and local Papuan laborers, as well as contributing to environmental degradation in the region. 

In addition, there were reports that Prabowo had purportedly interfered to prevent a lawsuit filed by his own assistant against the company. This ought to worry local Papuans and environmental activists who oppose the mining operations. A Prabowo administration is unlikely to consider local sentiments. Those who vocalize their disagreement over the mining activities may be subjected to persecution and suppression.

A closer look at Prabowo’s intended policy for Papua 

It doesn’t seem like Prabowo’s disregard for the wellbeing of Papuan locals has changed in the five years between 2019 and 2024. During the presidential debate in January 2024, his response to a question about his policy for Papua was very ambiguous and not convincing. 

Prabowo did mention accelerating economic development in Papua, but there were notable signs that he would implement a much more stringent version of Jokowi’s developmentalist strategy. His plan to “strengthen the security apparatus” in Papua definitely means more bad news for the local Papuans. This was especially disconcerting because it came from a former military man. It seems that he has not ruled out the possibility of increased troop development in the region. 

While assuring that “human rights remained high on his priority” in addressing the conflict in the region of Papua, Prabowo’s refusal to respond to a Human Rights Watch questionnaire on key issues confronting the Indonesian population at large showcased his low regard for human rights. Therefore, it is highly improbable that Prabowo will effectively safeguard human rights in Papua given both his previous and current record of inaction.

Despite the optimism that Jokowi will subdue the aggressive nature of Prabowo from the background, the reality is that Prabowo is a nationalist and military man at heart. He has made it clear that he will bolster military activity in Papua without regard for the locals. An enhanced militarisation policy in the region is something that should not be overlooked. There will be adverse consequences for Paupan locals under the Prabowo administration. 

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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Why the public fight?

Ottawa sees itself admirably as a champion of the global downtrodden. While this is true to a large extent, there are two caveats. First, it is a selective champion. It has repeatedly scolded China over its treatment of its Uyghur population, located largely in the Xinjiang region. It scolded India over its handling of the farmer protests in the Indian state of Punjab in 2020. It was so outraged by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine that it responded by committing over $13 billion in funding, largely for military assistance. However, over the decades, it has consistently supported Israel’s occupation of Palestine, voting against Palestine at the UN and arming Israel. And it continues to do so in the face of over 40,000 Palestinian deaths and many more injured in Gaza: in essence, aiding a genocide.

Second, it forgets its past crimes against its own indigenous population. And the neglect continues, with the indigenous facing disproportionately high rates of incarceration, difficulty in accessing healthcare and clean drinking water and violence against women. Such selective championing of causes and preaching to others while ignoring its own sins leads the world to question whether Canada’s concern is politically motivated and therefore weakens its moral standing on the global stage.

Ottawa feels that New Delhi has intruded on its sovereignty, which is foreign interference. However, other countries have also interfered with Canada with harmful or specific intent. For example, China has been accused of interfering in Canadian elections, surveillance in Arctic waters and coercing Chinese Canadians to spy for them. Russia too has been accused of interfering in Canada by trying to influence elections and diminish support for Ukraine. By the way, Canada’s closest ally, the US, has also engaged in foreign election interference in a long list of countries — including Brazil, Bolivia, Italy, Iran, Japan and Russia. And long before China meddled in Canada’s elections, the US had interfered in Canadian elections during the Kennedy years (helping Lester B. Pearson defeat Diefenbaker) — and yet, there’s no record of Ottawa publicly upbraiding Washington.

The assassination of a Canadian citizen on Canadian soil by a foreign element is inarguably egregious. Has such a thing — one country coming into a second country to kill a citizen of the second country — ever happened before? The list of countries and their assassinations (state-sponsored killings) is long. The number of assassinations — or “targeted killings” — attributed to the US numbers over 60, some conducted outside of the country of the victim’s nationality and some conducted within. Israeli assassinations number over 300. Interestingly, in 1990, the Israeli secret service Mossad killed a Canadian engineer in Belgium. And in 1997, two Mossad agents holding Canadian passports tried to poison a Hamas political leader in Jordan. The swamp of international assassinations is thickly populated and morally murky. Pointing a finger at one country can be risky because, to paraphrase that old joke, four fingers will be pointing back at your allies.

The breaking of the “rules-based international order”

Double standards are at work. Israel considers Hamas as a terrorist organization and India considers the Khalistan Tiger Force as a terrorist organization. Israel assassinated Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh in Iran this past July. Israel had announced their intent beforehand, and afterwards they did not bother to deny it. All this is quietly accepted by Canada, the US and other Western countries. However, India’s possible (denied by India) killing of Hardeep Singh Nijjar in Canada last year is considered a shameful and punishable offense by Canada and the West and has led to a diplomatic row.

It’s not surprising that the Global South views the glass house of “rules-based international order” cynically. The repeated hypocritical behaviors of powerful countries have caused it to become opaque, weaken, crack and finally break, leaving just one rule standing: Might is right.

Many rules of international conduct have been formulated, but a global order based on them can only work if they apply equally to all.

Foreign policy based on Khalistan

The significant political clout of Khalistan-supporting Sikhs in Canada has pushed the Nijjar issue to the forefront of Canada’s foreign affairs agenda. Of the roughly 5% people of Indian origin living in Canada, less than half are Sikh and fewer still are Khalistani (desirous of an independent Sikh homeland — Khalistan — carved out of the Indian state of Punjab). And yet, they seem to have a disproportionate influence on Trudeau. In the 2015 election, 20 Sikh MPs were elected and Trudeau called four of them to his cabinet. One of them, Harjit Sajjan, holder of several ministerial posts over the Trudeau years, is said to be a Khalistan sympathizer. In 2018, Trudeau went on an official trip to India, focused largely on Punjab, Sikhs and Khalistanis — which concerned and angered the Indian government. The leader of one of Canada’s major political parties and currently Trudeau’s coalition partner is Jagmeet Singh, a Sikh who is said to  support Khalistan. However, just because there are a large number of Sikh politicians should not mean that Sikh-specific issues should get higher priority; after all, these politicians should be working for the well-being of all Canadians.

Putting oneself in the shoes of Khalistanis, it is understandable that they — with their singular focus on attaining Khalistan — would want to embarrass and discredit India as well as spoil relations between Canada and India. But why should Trudeau, as the leader of the entire country, want the same thing? Why would he want to ruin relations with India — the fifth largest economy in the world, a working (albeit chaotic) democracy of 1.4 billion people, with 1.8 million people of Indian origin having chosen Canada as their new home? Why would he want to adopt a simplistic “me good, you bad” school of foreign policy? Why would he not want to address in good faith the repeatedly-stated security concerns of a long-standing ally?

Perplexed at the unusually on-stage nature of a usually off-stage dispute, Indian analysts wonder if Ottawa has a hidden agenda. Some wonder if this public fight is a deliberate attempt by Trudeau to project an external enemy and thereby gather internal support and cohesiveness. Others wonder if the aim is to move the mantle of “master of threat” from China (a stronger foe but indispensable) to India (a weaker foe and possibly more dispensable). Yet others wonder if this is a ploy to shift the spotlight away from Canada’s stagnant economy. They theorize that this may all be done with next year’s election in mind.

One explanation for this public fight is that both sides are now deeply frustrated and not listening to the other. Canada feels that India is not accepting or explaining the evidence it has on Nijjar’s killing. India feels that Canada never properly investigated the 1985 bombing of Air India Flight 182 (“the worst terrorist attack in Canada’s history”) which killed over 300 people (most of them Canadians) and was attributed to Sikh extremists — and that Canada is still not addressing its concerns about Khalistani terrorists residing in Canada. It would not be surprising if, when a country is repeatedly stifled in diplomatic channels, it resorts to non-diplomatic means.

Foreign policy as if the whole country matters

Going forward, much depends on the role Canada wants to play in this drama. Does Canada want to break up India? If it continues to protect and enable Sikh separatists living within its borders, it will be aiding that process. This would be a surprising and ironic role for Canada, given its own long efforts to maintain a united English-French nation. And if so, does Canada want to play a similar role for other groups of refugees and empower them against their country of origin — such as Afghans, Columbians, Iranians, Mexicans and Turks who have fled their country to make their home in Canada? And then, what of French Canadian nationalists? Or, alternatively, does Canada want to play a role it could aspire to — that of peacemaker? Canada may be ideally situated to do this — having the largest Sikh population outside India, having a large number of non-Sikh Indians residing in Canada and having a historically friendly relationship with India.

Over the centuries, Canada has provided a welcoming and safe new home to various groups of immigrants who — for the most part — have left their old animosities and grievances at the door and entered with just their hopes for a new life and good intentions in hand. For the cohesiveness of all Canadians, for the well-being of the entire country and for its peaceful place within the community of nations, Canada cannot allow its foreign policy to be monopolized by the concerns of a small section of its population or the political machinations of one party or the impulses of one person. Ideally, Ottawa needs to have practical and sustainable long-term foreign policy goals that reflect national values and serve the country’s interests as a whole. And with those firmly in mind, it must decide what kind of relations Canada should have with not just India, but all the countries of the world.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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India is at a unique juncture in its history. No less can be said of a country with 1.4 billion citizens, the fifth-largest economy and the second-largest startup ecosystem. India is a leader of the Global South and enjoys a great deal of goodwill from other developing nations. Further, it has become a rival to its neighbor China, an aspiring global power. Thus, India is a desirable ally to other foreign powers.

India’s desirability as an ally can be measured in the liberty it claims from all its international partners. The US courts India as a potential ally, but India imports 36% of its oil and defense technology from Russia. Conversely, Indian mortar shells have made their way to the Ukrainian arsenal without substantial indignation from Moscow. India recently rejected a Western call for a collective ban on the Russian media outlet RT with the words “does not pertain [to us].” Simultaneously, it censured RT for “misleading” information about US diplomats in New Delhi.

The liberty on both ends has spilled over to the Russia–Ukraine conflict. Although India denied any formal neutrality, it righteously claimed “the side of peace”. Many nations, including the warring parties, have used this opportunity to call for its participation in the peace process. However, India’s complex web of transactions with the opposing sides hinders this request.

Undeniably, India seems to be the best mediator between the two sides. However, it would not be the first one making an attempt at peace. More than seven different talks have been held under mediation by countries like China, Brazil, Mexico and others, adding more pressure on India to perform well. 

India greatly benefits from dealing with all sides. However, in exchange, it needs to fulfill its partners’ expectations while being under the spotlight. Mediating a peace process in these conditions may not be the best bet.

Why won’t India work as the mediator?

India has little to gain and a lot more to risk by taking on the role of peacemaker. A ceasefire in the Russia–Ukraine conflict is imminent. However, it does not guarantee a successful peace process. Russia and Ukraine have provisionally achieved their goals on the battlefield. The conflict is now a war of attrition with both sides making unprecedented and unconditional calls for a cessation of fighting. Russians have met their target of capturing the Donbas and other territories up to Crimea. They claim to be capable of ensuring Ukrainian neutrality. Although a ceasefire appears to be imminent, the horizon of peace is far from visible in this conflict. Once a ceasefire is achieved, the status quo will only reduce the motivation to find common ground. Russia is also known for preferring frozen conflicts as an influence expansion method.

The Russia–Ukraine war is a complex conflict with ideological, territorial and secessionist elements. Russia has historically questioned the existence of Ukraine and its border and claimed the territory around the Sea of Azov. Arguably, 27% of people in this region, the Donbas Oblast, also choose secession to it. Self-determination, guarantee of collective security and compromise on territorial integrity will be the basis for any peace plan. It may also include exonerating President Putin and retracting his International Criminal Court warrant for war crimes in Bucha. Most of these issues are often touted as beyond the mandate of interventions by the international community.

India’s likelihood of disappointing either side is high with its limited experience and dependencies on all stakeholders. A position of comparative advantage and the ability to offer inducements is necessary for mediating and enforcing peace. However, India is far too dependent on both sides for their support elsewhere to remain unbiased. It has a $57 billion trade deficit with Russia. This constitutes approximately 36% of its defense technology and cheap crude oil. At the peak of the conflict, Russian oil to India was $12/barrel cheaper than benchmark prices. The discount continues to be nearly $6-7/barrel. The arrows in its quiver of strategic autonomy will be fewer.

Apart from recent financial gains, partnership with Russia is a longstanding neutralizer for India’s issues with China. The benefits predate the recent interest that the West has shown in this problem. India cannot afford to estrange a regional partner in Russia, especially with the Sino-Russian cooperation being at a record high. 

Ironically, all India can expect out of Russia, vis-a-vis China, is for it to not aid Beijing against New Delhi. Active support on this matter can only come from the West. Cooperation with the Western partners, particularly the US, has increased multifold with China’s rising influence in the Indo-Pacific. The US is also India’s largest export destination and a close collaborator in defense production. Approximately $186 billion worth of Indian exports out of $433.09 billion in 2023-24 were destined for the US and Europe. Co-operation from these trading partners helps India derive maximum benefit out of the China Plus One strategy of global manufacturing diversification. 

Most importantly, India needs Russia and the West to prevent being cornered by either on a regular basis. Thus, it would be important and equally tough for it to meet the expectations of special treatment from both ends. India must also not believe that the current leeways from the partners will continue once its actions are seen to be tipping the war in another direction.

Attaching itself to the outcomes of an already failed process could curtail India’s strategic autonomy. Uninhibited exchange with both sides over the past two years has garnered a lot of benefits and goodwill for it. Mediating the peace process will only burden it with the responsibility of being seen as unbiased. This could prevent India from achieving two of its supposedly short-term goals: obtaining a permanent seat at the UN Security Council and settlement of the Kashmir issue. 

Its actions in the course of the peace process could polarize the international community, thereby jeopardizing the more or less universal support for its UNSC permanent membership. As a mediator, India will also be expected to practice in Pakistan-Occupied Kashmir (POK) what it preaches in Donbas.

Instead, only being seen as the peacemaker could keep its goodwill intact. India can achieve this label and much more, by advocating for humanitarian cooperation at the BRICS summit. 

Maintaining the image of peacemaker

India presenting itself as a peacemaker is more beneficial for it compared to actually mediating peace. It can do so by diverting efforts towards mitigating the impacts of the conflict. This strategy has worked well in the case of the Israel–Hamas conflict where India has consistently demanded a “humanitarian corridor”. A similar move also reaped goodwill at the G20 Summit that India chaired in 2023. It championed the cause of energy and food security in the Global South and the conflict affected zones. The result was a rare declaration agreeable to the West, Russia and China. 

BRICS appears to be a fitting forum to deploy this strategy. The group has a trans-polar appeal, evident in the interest it has attracted in the past five years. 30 nations have expressed their willingness to join the group. Memberships of Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE have already begun in January 2024. 

Over the years, BRICS has moved past its identity of being a purely economic union and posited itself as a platform for the Global South. Particularly for those that have been historically excluded from the world’s “G” order. India’s foreign minister S Jaishankar recently said the BRICS exists “because you [the members] would not let us into the G7”. 

A lot can be achieved with 40% of the global population, a quarter of the economy and a numerical majority of developing countries. President Putin has also expressed a similar hope in his statement claiming confidence and close coordination with BRICS partners regarding the war. 

India’s National Security Advisor (NSA) Ajit Doval recently visited Russia for the BRICS NSAs meet. Doval also called-on President Putin along the sidelines of this event. There was much anticipation of a peace plan from the meeting that turned out to be “a briefing on Modi’s Ukraine visit”. Simultaneously, Modi spoke to President Biden “briefing him about his visit to Russia”. India certainly appears to be getting its balancing right. 

For the BRICS summit this week, India must target achieving substantial humanitarian relief through joint efforts by Russia and Ukraine. These could include ensuring free navigation for commercial vessels, developing humanitarian corridors, mitigating environmental impact or safeguarding nuclear infrastructure. 

Safe navigation for commercial vessels and a “bilateral” humanitarian corridor are the lowest hanging fruits on the cooperation tree. Ukrainian grain ships continue to be attacked in transit, while the Russian dark fleet sails heavily under-insured. There already exists a defunct humanitarian corridor agreement between the two parties, put in place with Turkey’s help in 2022. India can advocate for its reinstatement. This will particularly aid global food and energy security and relieve supply chain stress as global shipping freight tariffs are at an all time high. 

The international community has also expressed fear for the safety of nuclear infrastructure in the conflict zone. Missile attacks and power outages in proximity to the Zaporizhzhia nuclear plant in Ukraine have risked radiation fallout and failure of containment systems. Similar concerns have been raised regarding the war’s ecological impact. For instance, destruction of essential infrastructure such as the Kakhonka hydropower dam has caused heavy flooding and displacement in the areas downstream. India can propose that both parties collectively ensure prevention of such damages and mitigation of their spillovers, a move made easier by the fact that the aforementioned points are part of President Zelenskyy’s ten point peace formula. These measures can also get Russia some international goodwill with minimal strategic bearing.

A breakthrough in impact mitigation could prove to be BRICS’s rite of passage into global security and conflict management. By playing a key role, India will reaffirm that it cares about the developing world and not just its rising influence. Most importantly, it would be doing so in the presence of its regional competitor, China. Success at the summit can open many doors for India to steer BRICS and lead the Global South in the future.

[Kaitlyn Diana edited this piece]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Can India be a Peacemaker in the Russia–Ukraine War? appeared first on Fair Observer.

One often asked quibble, for instance, has been whether the course of history would have been different had the nose of Queen Cleopatra been an inch longer. Or, from Cowley’s example, if the Persians had beaten the Athenians in the historic Battle of Salamis in 480 BCE, or nearer home, if the first war of independence in 1857 had a different outcome. Such instances are plenty and juxtaposing them with the actual happenings is apt to give a new insight into many of the long-held assumptions on men and matters that shaped the course of mankind.

The contextual relevance to Cochin can hardly be missed. The fame and fortune it came to acquire over decades, even centuries, would not have possibly come about had the massive tsunami of 1341 not destroyed the then booming port town of Muziris and opened up Cochin as a major port of call on the west coast of India. What enabled the latter were the bounteous quantities of mud that got deposited off the Cochin coast, creating in the process a long stretch of mudbank which subsequently helped build one of the finest all-weather, deep-water natural ports in the world. Thus began the saga of Cochin.

Arguably, the port was just the trigger that set in motion a slew of facilitating support systems-broadly understood as infrastructure-which together hastened the transformation of the cluster of fishing villages into a teeming metropolis. Indeed, it was the indomitable will and determination of a few men like Sir Robert Bristow, His Highness Sir Sri Rama Varma of Cochin State, Dewan Sankara Warrier, Sir Shanmukham Chetty and a few others who worked on their shared dream that finally made it actionable.

Bristow’s vision did not stop just at the port. He knew it well that without matching support systems-good road and rail connectivity to bring cargo from near and far, well. equipped warehouses to store outgoing and incoming cargo and a township with all the necessary amenities to house the workforce and their families, to name the more important- the port would not only be unviable but purposeless. It was with this in mind that he insisted on extending the mainland railway network to the port area, aside from improving road connectivity with both the mainland and neighbouring Mattancherry. This inevitably meant roping in official agencies like the railways, civic bodies and a host of major and minor departments. In the event, it wasn’t easy and often proved tauntingly tricky just as the detractors’ manipulations to stall the port project were challenging.

Not that these factors had not been factored in while planning for the port and the support systems. If Bristow had been able to overcome most of them, it was only because he had anticipated most of them and strategised his responses. A close reading of his ground-breaking work, Cochin Saga, will vouch for it. 

But overall, neither the East India Company nor the British Empire was averse to investing in infrastructure. Both knew that in the long run it was necessary to serve their larger politico-economic interests. The general impression in England was that improving and modernising inland communications-roads, railways, ports, etc. would eventually open up new areas of investment for enterprising Europeans. The optimism was not misplaced as India did emerge as a major source of enrichment of the British Empire. No wonder, it earned the sobriquet ‘the brightest jewel in the British Crown. All other colonies, by comparison, remained far less lustrous.

There was, however, a short interregnum in economic activity in the aftermath of the First War of Independence in 1857, largely, if not wholly, out of pique over what happened that, more than anything else, deeply hurt the British pride. ‘The Rebellion, as it was also termed by British historians, was a watershed in the 200-years-long British rule. It marked the end of the East India Company as the sole dispenser of power and pelf and the beginning of direct rule by the British Crown. The then reigning queen, Victoria, became the Empress of India. It was a major shift in the fortunes of the British Empire in every sense of the term.

Indeed, the change of guard was more in form than substance. The colonial mindset of the new rulers was no different from that of the East India Company, and it became clear at the beginning itself. In a seemingly knee-jerk reaction to the events of 1857, the new rulers decided to put all development projects in abeyance just to teach the natives a lesson. Many prime projects-the Cochin Port and allied works, the coffee and tea plantations that later became the leitmotif of British entrepreneurship and few rail and road projects were among the casualties,

But it did not take much time for the rulers back in London to realise that neglect of infrastructure-bridges, rails and other communication networks was one reason why the British army took a bloody beating in the early days of the native onslaught, as the army could not be moved in time to contain the movement. It, therefore, called for early rectification. In the event, projects that had been put on the back-burner were taken out and dusted off for quick implementation. The 250-km-rail track that had been laid down by 1856, for example, was stretched to 6400 km by 1870 and further to 16,000 km by 1880. Similarly, construction on inland and overland telegraph links was revived, taken up on a war footing and completed by 1870. That, in sum, opened up new vistas of development. Incidentally, the first telegraph link in India, commissioned in November 1850, was between Calcutta and Diamond Harbour, a distance of about 50 km.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Cochin: Fame and Fables, M. K. Das, Niyogi Books, 2024.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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India and China are major regional powers in Asia and among the fastest-growing economies of the 21st century. Despite being neighbors, a stark contrast exists between their domestic policies, political systems, foreign policies, market economies, ideologies etc. Before acknowledging their present disputes, it is necessary to consider their initial relationship and ambitions.

India was under British colonial rule for nearly two centuries, declaring independence on August 15, 1947. It constructed a democratic political structure influenced by the Western states. Conversely, China faced a two-decade-long civil war between Kuomintang and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) from 1927 to 1949. The CCP gained complete control of mainland China and proclaimed the resulting People’s Republic of China would be based on Marxist ideology.

India was among the first non-communist countries to recognize the legitimacy of the new Chinese state. These two new states set in motion a favorable bilateral relationship. This era of brotherhood was publicly endorsed by the slogan, “Hindi Chini bhai bhai” (“Indians and Chinese are brothers”). However, this positive relationship would not last long.

India and China’s rising tensions

As early as the 1950s, suspicion and distrust grew between the nations surrounding China’s interest in Tibet, a buffer land between India and China. In 1951, China annexed Tibet. Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru and Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai attempted to ease tensions by signing the Panchsheel Pact in 1954. Then in 1959, the Chinese government denounced the McMahon line, the border between India and Tibet (China). China started claiming the Indian territory of the Aksai Chin Plateau, and the India–China relationship further deteriorated when India discovered a Chinese road in the region. 

Border disputes arose between the nations, leading to the 1962 Sino–Indian War. The conflict ended with India’s defeat and China capturing areas of the Assam plains in northeast Aksai Chin and Demchok in northwest India. Relations worsened still when India gave refuge to the Dalai Lama, a spiritual and temporal head of Tibet, and China aided Pakistan’s war efforts against India. Historians can trace periods of skirmish and negotiation alike to the 1960s.

In 2017, a major confrontation took place in Doklam, Bhutan. This area is claimed by both China and Bhutan and is an important juncture for all three nations, including India. While India accused China of building an illegal road in Bhutan’s territory, which caused security concerns for both India and Bhutan, China accused India of intrusion in its territory.

What started as a border dispute soon spilled over into foreign policy, dictating bilateral and multilateral relations as well as forming alliances. Asia, specifically South Asia and Eastern Asia, has become a testbed for both India and China to flex their power and influence. The pro-Chinese governments of India’s neighbors — Pakistan, the Maldives and now even Bangladesh — pressure India to change its 1984-esque “Big Brother” attitude. Similarly, China is surrounded by pro-Indian governments — Japan, Taiwan and the Philippines — which cooperate with India militarily.

China has undertaken its Belt and Road Initiative and invested extensively in building sea routes to foster infrastructure development in other nations. The goal is to increase trade and trade relations with Asia. Meanwhile, India collaborates with the United States, Australia and Japan in the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue (or Quad) to counter China’s presence in the Indian Ocean. The Quad’s goal is to unify a multilateral coalition to resist Chinese influence, which could embolden other nations to join and counterbalance China’s dominance.

China has made many such advances to keep India under check. With this rise of Chinese dominance in market and international politics, India has become a major element to balance Chinese regional power.

International relations in the 20th century evolved with the start of new alliances and multilateral engagements. To make these intertwined relations more prominent, globalization connected national economies, forcing even the socialist nations to open their markets for trade. In the 21st century, any action taken by states unilaterally impacts other international players as well. As major regional powers, the fastest-developing economies and two of the most populous countries in the world, India and China have undeniably become crucial international forces.

The rift between India and China that started with border disputes and ideological differences is now a matter of international concern, with both equilibrating one another. Border issues are in themselves complicated problems faced by majority nations, solutions to which are never secure for both parties. Given the current international arena, ambitions and geopolitical nature of the power struggle, even if the border crisis were solved, a permanent settlement between India and China is infeasible for the foreseeable future.

Cooperation is still possible

Rup Narayan Das, author of the book, India-China Defence Cooperation and Military Engagement, describes India and China’s defence cooperation as a “complex mix of conflict and cooperation.” Having no mutually delineated Line of Actual Control (LAC) and differences in perceptions of the LAC, alternative periods of skirmishes and negotiations are common. But to bring stability in the border regions and foster understanding, India and China signed a Border Defence Cooperation Agreement on October 23, 2013. Under this agreement, neither side can use military strength to attack the other, and both sides must share information about their weapons and combat operations, among other things.

The 2020 Galwan Valley confrontation, which killed 20 Indian soldiers and an undisclosed number of Chinese soldiers, revealed the persisting atmosphere of distrust between the armies. Fortunately, communications through diplomatic and military channels have made steady progress to solve the Western border issue, said Senior Colonel Wu Qian. In light of the recent exchanges, External Affairs Minister Subrahmanyam Jaishankar said that about 75% of the “disengagement problems” with China have been sorted out. Likewise, Qian said that the troops have “disengaged on the ground at multiple locations in Eastern Ladakh,” including the Galwan Valley.

India and China are also part of different international groups that quintessentially demand collaboration: BRICS, the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO), G21 and the United Nations. As BRICS continues to grow and challenge Western economic dominance, especially the hegemonic position of the US dollar, a faltering of India–China cooperation would be detrimental to BRICS’s development. India initially contributed to the SCO and helped it increase its international reputation; but as it sees the organization being China-dominated, India has been decreasing its participation.

With increasing globalization and the common concerns of mankind, India and China have emphasized the need to shift from traditional technologies to green technologies, electric vehicles, low-carbon urbanization and adaptation. Many regard the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) and the Kyoto Protocol agreement as most appropriate for international cooperation. While these organizations provide a forum for dialogue and cooperation, they also lead to discontent and competition. One long-standing issue is the matter of getting India a permanent seat in the UN Security Council, as well as China’s objections to this goal. China has caused delays and indecisiveness in the UN by skipping summits, opposing proposals and disagreeing.

Expanding trade can bring economic prosperity

Economic cooperation is one of the most important areas for India and China to agree upon. After all, the trade relationship is expanding; it amounted to $113.83 billion in bilateral trade in the 2023 fiscal year.

“We feel that the economic relationship with China has been very unfair and very unbalanced. We don’t have the same market access there, while they have much better market access in India,” Jaishankar said at the Global Centre for Security Policy in Geneva.

Notwithstanding the colored balance of payment (BOP), India and China’s economic relationship complements the other nation. Where China excels in cost-effective manufacturing, India specializes in cost-effective design and development. India offers China a populous market for its many products, and China has emerged as India’s largest trade partner in recent years. Although both countries have become investment destinations, bilateral investment has yet to grow.

In May 2014, China invited India to join the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB). As of August 14, 2024, 48 projects (25 sovereign and 11 non-sovereign) have been approved for $10.45 billion financing. The New Development Bank (NDB), which established its office in Shanghai, opened its India Regional Office in Gujarat International Finance Tec-City in June 2022. India is the biggest borrower in NDB, with 19 projects approved with a commitment of $6.92 billion as of August 31, 2022. With an increasingly integrated economy and a symmetrical BOP, India and China’s relations can prosper and negotiations can be more effective.

In contemporary international relations, cooperation and fallouts are an inevitable phenomenon. India and China are no exceptions. The commendable aspect of the India–China relationship is their mutual respect for communications and negotiations. Despite the antithesis between their prevalent ideologies and their role in the balance of power, the two have mostly maintained stable bilateral relations with short periods of squabble. They must now maintain the status quo in international politics. While alliance or friendship are not possible options in the international arena, stability and collaboration are expected and attainable.

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Can India and China Overcome Old Disputes for Practical Cooperation? appeared first on Fair Observer.

As an American who has spent half of my career in public service, although Kashyap transported me halfway across the globe to India, I immediately identified with him and his journey through life. His rise to the highest ranks of the Indian Administrative Service is fascinating and was based on selfless dedication, acumen and merit.

What was most compelling about Kashyap’s memoirs was learning the stories of a gifted public servant of rigorous integrity but one who contended with a glacial bureaucracy, venal politicians, and at times, plain old corruption. How he dealt with these issues is a story that publicly-minded individuals, especially those with the privilege to serve in government, will benefit from reading.

The lessons the author teaches are full of wisdom and are universal.

One example: Early in his public service career, Kashyap was prematurely transferred, disrupting his family and children’s schooling. Yet, quoting both Shakespeare and Urdu poetry, he accepts this turn of events with equanimity. That he quotes the two almost in the same breath also speaks volumes about Kashyap’s erudition, which permeates his book. He also met with many prominent individuals during his 38-year tenure in the Indian civil service. One was Mother Theresa. His interactions with her, helping her to acquire land for an orphanage, are priceless.

While there is much to admire about Kashyap’s intelligence and remarkable, sometimes lyrical, prose, his own upbringing presaged much of what is so admirable about him. His father, who rose to the highest ranks as a police executive, was a role model for him to emulate. Even his grandfather, who pre-dated Indian independence, was a gifted functionary and advisor to the Maharaja of Kupurthala. Good genes never hurt. Besides public service, Kashyap and I share another thing in common: our passion for tennis.

[Niyogi Books published Beyond The Trappings of Office: A Civil Servant’s Journey In Punjab in 2023.]

[Tara Yarwais edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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2023 marked the centenary year of Syed Haider Raza. Even now he is lauded as one of the foremost Indian painters. Along with contemporaries from the Progressive Art Group in India such as M. F. Hussain, F. N. Souza and others, Raza created a unique space for the modern Indian painter in the visual art world. Raza’s art characterizes a confluence of Western expression and Indian symbolism, allowing for a fascinating critical analysis of spiritual themes in abstract art.  Two of Raza’s most famous series, Saurashtra and Bindu, convey an intricacy of spiritual thought woven in geometry, colors, lines and brush strokes. Each painting is a rich tapestry that weaves the individual threads of many experiences and perspectives. 

Colors, shapes, ideas and experiences

Any lofty, robust tree must have good branching and staunch roots. Raza’s creativity is no different. The seed behind Raza’s growth was planted in a small village in Madhya Pradesh, India. From there he branched out to Bombay, where thousands journeyed in the hopes of finding success in the urbanscape. His final destination was France, where he trained, married a French artist, settled and remained by choice in his life and art “Indian.” The magnetic pull of his motherland was irrefutable, so he kept returning home to the land of vibrant, coruscating, living colors.

Even in childhood, Raza was enchanted by the infinite Elysium of nature that made his hometown of Babariya thrum with life: the songs of verdant green forests and the sempiternal beauty of the cascading Narmada. This deep affinity for the beauty of nature likely pushed him to pursue landscape art, which spanned much of his early career. His love for nature is evident through his hunger for color and artistic ferocity, even when he was a budding artist lacking the influences he needed to truly blossom. 

Raza discovered a new vision when he traveled to coastal Mumbai, the city of dreams. The boundless urban landscapes of buildings and the infinity of the sea provided another perspective that appealed to his sensibilities. Other journeys, such as the one to Kashmir and then to France, expanded his palette of perceptions. 

Raza’s expressional turn

Some of the most illustrious works of Raza’s repertoire were catalyzed by the Bindu incident in his school days. His teacher, hoping to soothe the agitation in his mind, instructed Raza to concentrate on a bindu, or dot, on the classroom wall. Spellbound, Raza spent hours fixated on this ostensibly insignificant dot. The time spent gazing at the dot returned with a force later in life that grew into a phenomenal artistic and spiritual journey, shaping Raza into the celebrated artist he is today. 

Bindu was part of his journey to move away from Cubist and figurative forms in order to experiment with expressional art. He needed to address his restless mind, and as such was drawn to that childhood event of gazing at the black dot. The bindu became a larger-than-life multilayered philosophical symbol. Artfully put by Sandhya Bordewekar, a leading art historian, the bindu “represented the seed, a natural symbol of fertility, the cyclical nature of the seasons, the circle of life and death that cannot be broken.” 

Saurashtra

Another famous series of Raza’s paintings, Saurashtra, came after Bindu. Done in the early 1980s, Saurashtra is all about emotional and geometrical expression. The painting seeks to capture what poet Ashok Vajpeyi, director of the Raza Foundation, describes of Raza’s work: “Inheritance and invention, modernity and memory, celebration, and spirituality.” 

Saurashtra drew inspiration from the arid landscape of the State of Gujarat. In contrast to the dusty, dry surroundings, the people of Gujarat wear vigorously spirited, vibrant and even psychedelic colors. The abstract strokes navigating the geometrical spacing seem inspired by the colors of the Rajasthani miniature paintings between the 16th and 19th centuries. The colors of ochre, crimson and deep-red brown are reminiscent of the languorous, sultry land. Scintillas of green represent occasional oases amongst the desert. Raza writes, “Instead of being constructions, my paintings from the 1970s are more gestural in techniques, and in terms of colour, too, they are expressionistic. The spontaneity was new and compulsive – I let the canvas grow.” 

The Saurashtra series of Raza’s paintings are abstract, but there is a spiritual journey to be found. These paintings form part of the artist’s transitional phase, where he seeks to explore his inner self and aspires to balance his inner growth and interaction with the outer world. Writer Urmila Banu states that “the distortion of forms and lines correspond to the struggle of his state of mind, a reverse journey from experience to innocence, tracking back his rootedness to the native place, where he was born, weaving the relationship with nature and meadows and the social and cultural landscape.” 

The demand for S.H. Raza’s artwork is testimony to the importance of his legacy. To celebrate his centenary, the Raza Foundation, an arts and culture organization established in 2001 by Raza, along with Centre Pompidou in Paris, organized an exhibition that took place from February 15 to May 15, 2023. It was specially curated to demonstrate Raza’s free-flowing and unfettered oeuvre, including early works from his days in the Sir J. J. School of Art. The exhibition aimed to establish the role of Sayed Haider Raza as an artist who bridged Western and South Asian sensibilities, artistic techniques, aesthetics and philosophical and spiritual ideas. Raza received the fourth-highest civilian award in India, the Padma Shri, in 1981. He also received the Fellowship of the Lalit Kala Academi (the National Academy of Visual Arts in India) in 1984. In 2007 he added the third-highest civilian award, Padma Bhushan, to his list of decorations, as well as Padma Vibhushan, the second-highest civilian honor, in 2013. 

Raza left his mortal body on July 23, 2016. The goblin of death in Terry Pratchett’s acclaimed novel Reaper Man famously said: “No one is dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.” The rich legacy left behind by Raza can testify to the numerous ripples that continue to give direction to other artists. A mute witness to his legacy is the painting he was making before his death, which rests on the easel for posterity in his studio in Delhi: “A black circle whirling on its axis would begin its journey, rising from an ocean of white, and dynamise the room.” The unfinished painting is evidence of Raza’s flying soul recreating his abstractly painted spiritual journey. 

[The Art Journal Foundation first published this piece.]

[Cheyenne Torres edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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Less than a decade ago, British Viceroy Lord Elgin had said, “India was conquered by the sword and by the sword it shall be held!” Now, in an ironical turn of events, the youth of Bengal seemed to be returning Elgin’s comment. Many genuinely felt that violence was the only language the foreigners understood. Armed terrorism thus became closely intertwined with the fight for swaraj. In 1907, Aurobindo’s brother Barindra Ghose, began using his family home in Maniktola (then a suburb of Calcutta) as an arsenal-cum-school for revolutionaries. His compatriot, Hem Chandra Das from Midnapore, went to Paris to learn bomb making and understand revolutionary politics. As Bipin Chandra Pal, Ashwini Kumar Dutta, Aurobindo Ghose and others took control of the militant movement, the police files of the British became thicker and thicker with the names of young ‘suspects’ and ‘preventive detainees’. The same files now also had a name for this movement—’Bengal Terrorism’!

‘Bengal Terrorism’ was at its peak between 1908 and 1910. It was an organised movement that did not approve of individually motivated acts and secret murders. The objective was to stage a popular uprising and revolution that could bring down the edifice of British imperialism. This they hoped to do by forming secret societies that could enthuse the youth with higher values of bold action and sacrifice for the country, train them in the manufacture of bombs and explosive devices and the use of arms and also arm them for the fight.

Through the assassination of British officials they hoped to demoralise the British, paralyse the administration and uproot all enemies of India’s freedom—Indians or foreigners! Guerrilla warfare, inciting the army to revolt, arranging arms supplies from nations hostile to Britain—these revolutionaries were open to following many paths.

An official report of the time mentions about 210 revolutionary outrages and 101 attempts involving hundreds of revolutionaries in the decade between 1906 and 1917 in Bengal. This includes several failed and aborted attempts on the lives of high officials between the announcement of partition in 1905 and the Muzaffarpur bombing carried out by the Jugantar revolutionaries Khudiram Bose and Prafulla Chaki in April 1908.

These were times when the Criminal Intelligence Department (CID) could hardly afford to lean back and take a moment’s rest. Swamped with work, all its attention was now focused on tracing the web-like threads of revolutionary activity to their points of origin. All attempts to force a breakthrough had proved futile. On a more specific note, the CID was also aware of an assassination plot building up against the former Calcutta Presidency Chief Magistrate, Douglas Kingsford (now posted as District Judge in Muzaffarpur), but had not been able to unearth it. And then suddenly, the Muzaffarpur bombing happened!

A turning point in India’s revolutionary history, the incident created a sensation in British India. The blast was followed by deafening silence in stunned British circles. Young, impassioned, 18-year-old Khudiram Bose was arrested for the bombing. Through the incident and the investigations that followed, the British were able to unravel the functioning of a wellspread network of secret societies and the people associated with it. The Muzaffarpur bombing became the starting point of the famous trial known as the Alipore Bomb Case or the Alipore Bomb Conspiracy. The Muzaffarpur incident was the first real eruption of a volcano that had made many attempts to surface in the recent past. Before the bombing, several unsuccessful attempts had been made on the lives of high-profile British officials. In 1906, Bampfylde Fuller, the Lieutenant Governor of the new province of Eastern Bengal and Assam, was trailed from Guwahati to Rangpur, but no attempt was made. On the night of 6 December 1907 an attempt was made near Narayangarh in the Midnapur district to blow up the train in which Andrew Fraser, the Lieutenant Governor of Bengal, was travelling. Another attempt was planned on the Lieutenant Governer’s train near Chandernagore in which Barindra Ghose was accompanied by his close associate Ullaskar Dutt and Prafulla Chaki. The attempt failed because the special train did not come that way on the appointed night. December 1907 also saw a group led by Narendranath Bhattacharya carry out a dacoity in Chingripota (24 Parganas) and the shooting of B.C. Allen (District Magistrate, Dhaka) by members of the Dhaka Anushilan Samiti. On the night of 11 April 1908 an attempt had been made on the life of the Mayor of Chandernagore who had incurred the wrath of the revolutionaries for stopping a swadeshi meeting from taking place. The police, therefore, had enough reasons to keep a close watch on the activities of some people in Calcutta, whom they suspected of having links with the revolutionaries.

Events had been in motion for a while, but deep in their hearts the revolutionaries were getting impatient for that one big bang that could shake the British to their foundations. It is in this context that the Muzaffarpur bombing assumes great historical importance. When Khudiram Bose and Prafulla Chaki threw a bomb at what they presumed to be the carriage carrying Douglas Kingsford on 30 April 1908 in Muzaffarpur in Bihar, they brought matters to a head. Instead of assassinating Kingsford, the bomb, however, killed his bridge partners Mrs. Kennedy and Miss Grace Kennedy, the wife and daughter of Mr. Pringle Kennedy, Advocate-at-Bar at Muzaffarpur. But even though it missed the desired target, the bomb that was hurled that fateful evening blasted the myth of British invincibility and shook the empire at its roots. Indeed, even a century later, the modest bomb remains one of the loudest explosions in Indian history.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from The Alipore Bomb Case: A Historic Pre-Independence Trial, Noorul Hoda, Niyogi Books, 2008.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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— Antonio Gramsci, Selections from the Prison Notebooks.

On September 22, 2024, a headline from CNN reverberated across Sri Lanka: “Sri Lankans elect Marxist-leaning Dissanayake as president to fix the economy.” The deceptively simple headline conceals the hope, frustration and the persistent change that characterize today’s Sri Lanka. National People’s Power (NPP) party leader Anura Kumara Dissanayake now stands at the helm. Yet questions echo in the collective consciousness: Is this the dawn of genuine transformation, or merely another chapter in Sri Lanka’s lengthy political saga? This time, the air feels charged with an unsettling potential.

What does the new president represent?

The Sri Lankan people’s yearning to disrupt the status quo has eclipsed their fear of the unknown — the nebulous movement embodied by AKD, a leader emerging from the rural hinterlands to topple the established order represented by the seasoned Ranil Wickremesinghe, a six-time president.

From his inaugural moment, AKD’s presidency marks an audacious experiment for the country. His NPP is a heterogeneous ranging from radical leftists rooted in the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) to progressive elements. Here, we witness a Antonio Gramsci-esque experiment in adapting Marxist movements to the ever-shifting landscape of social conditions.

Gramsci, a thinker who grappled with the nuances of ideological purity, argued for the necessity of pragmatism to forge a broader appeal. AKD’s own pragmatic turn has inspired a tentative optimism not only within Sri Lanka but also in the cautious hearts of its neighbors, especially India. The pivotal question persists: Can AKD balance reform with pragmatism during his presidency, or will he become ensnared in the very contradictions he seeks to transcend?

The NPP positions itself as a reformist entity distinct from its traditional Marxist roots, seeking to redefine its identity within the broader historical panoply of leftist movements. Yet — as with all revolutions — the shadow of past dogmas hovers, threatening to undermine the delicate foundations of reform.

AKD’s election symbolizes a profound shift in Sri Lankan politics and Sri Lankan socialism. In the 1970s, the JVP’s rigid adherence to Marxist orthodoxy privileged revolutionary fervor over pragmatic reform. Today, while the NPP acknowledges its origins, it has redefined itself as prioritizing governance and systemic reform over ideological purity. This evolution, however, is fraught with uncertainty and internal conflict, for the pull of old-guard sentiments within the JVP may clash with the drive for pragmatic governance.

How are Sri Lanka’s neighbors reacting?

As he navigates these turbulent waters, AKD faces formidable geopolitical challenges in the competing interests of India and China. Scholars  Harsh Pant and Aditya Gowdara Shivamurthy assert, “Given the economic and geopolitical scenario, pragmatism is likely to take precedence — Sri Lanka will continue to balance between India and China.” Their insights reveal a landscape shaped by competing aspirations, where AKD’s focus on governance could forge a path toward stability — though whether this is a hopeful vision or an illusory one remains an open question.

However, India’s apprehension looms large as AKD’s presidency unfolds. The strength of the NPP, particularly in its connections to Beijing, raises alarms in New Delhi, which views the burgeoning partnership as a potential threat to its own regional influence. This fear is not unfounded, since India faces the possibility that Sri Lanka under AKD might continue the economic tango with China — trading closer alignment for survival. India fears that AKD might inadvertently lean toward China. The previous Rajapaksa regime did so, which cultivated ties with Beijing, allowing increased Chinese influence through infrastructure projects like the Hambantota Port. India’s security apparatus remains vigilant; some analysts warn that AKD’s presidency could herald a recalibration of Sri Lanka’s foreign policy that may favor China at India’s expense.

As New Delhi grapples with these fears, it remains intent on countering any perceived drift of Kotte towards Beijing. Indian officials are likely to engage with AKD’s administration to promote stability and cooperation while subtly exerting pressure to ensure Sri Lanka does not slip further into China’s orbit.

This geopolitical backdrop complicates AKD’s administration, as he must navigate the intricate balance between fostering relationships with both powers while maintaining domestic support. At the heart of this precarious experiment lies a pressing challenge: addressing the economic collapse that shadows AKD’s ascent.

AKD’s ability to navigate the labyrinthine reforms required by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the intricate dance of debt restructuring will define the early chapters of his presidency. To secure the fourth tranche of the $3 billion IMF bailout program, Sri Lanka must demonstrate measurable progress in fiscal reforms and debt sustainability. The urgency of these reforms is palpable, for the threat of further financial deterioration looms large, threatening the very fabric of the nation.

Debt restructuring is a particularly thorny issue, fraught with the weight of a massive external debt burden and exacerbated by years of mismanagement. AKD inherits a complex negotiation landscape, where cooperation from key creditors — China, India and private bondholders — will be critical. In the days preceding the election, Wickremesinghe warned that “any move to alter the basics of the agreement could delay a fourth tranche of nearly $3 billion from the IMF package, which is crucial for economic stability.” Such warnings echo in the corridors of power, reminding us of the fragile balancing act AKD must perform.

While China has already extended temporary reprieves in the form of debt rollovers, the way toward more comprehensive restructuring deals still needs to be discovered. Beijing’s strategic interests, particularly regarding infrastructure projects under the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), complicate the process. India, eager to witness stability in Sri Lanka, stands ready to support AKD’s reformist agenda, yet the shadows of previous projects, like the Adani wind power initiative, loom large, casting a shadow of uncertainty on future collaboration.

How will AKD move forward?

AKD’s administration must navigate the treacherous waters of fiscal consolidation, implementing IMF-mandated measures that include tax reforms, public revenue generation and enhanced governance in public enterprises. While these reforms are crucial for economic stabilization, they are not without risks. Public discontent could rise as the specter of austerity measures threatens to exacerbate inflation and unemployment.

The balancing act between India and China constitutes one of AKD’s most formidable challenges. On the one hand, India anticipates that his rise could distance Sri Lanka from the Rajapaksa-era ties to Beijing, marred by allegations of corruption. Conversely, AKD’s historical ties to China and the NPP’s pragmatic stance suggest that Beijing may still see him as a favorable partner. As a Chinese journalist candidly expressed, BRI projects could gain momentum under AKD’s presidency, perhaps even surpassing the ambitions of his predecessors.

This intricate balancing act will inevitably dominate AKD’s foreign policy. His early promise to cancel the controversial Adani wind power project, while unlikely to fracture relations with India immediately, signals a willingness to make bold decisions that challenge external powers. Yet, whether such actions will tilt the balance in Sri Lanka’s favor or further entangle it in diplomatic complexities remains shrouded in uncertainty — much like his earlier campaign against the US MCC agreement, which revealed a readiness to confront foreign influence when politically expedient.

Amidst these challenges, AKD’s presidency offers a flicker of hope. The ravaged economy, scarred by years of mismanagement, yearns for bold reform. AKD’s election embodies the public’s longing for something new, a desire to transcend the failures of the past. His presidency will be defined by how he navigates internal reforms and his capacity to traverse a complex geopolitical landscape deftly. The stakes are high, and the potential for failure looms large, yet the possibility of transformation lies within this uncertainty.

Sri Lanka has seen political experiments before; many leaders have succumbed to the very establishment they once vowed to dismantle. But AKD’s presidency symbolizes a nascent possibility — a collective aspiration for a better future. Success will not merely depend on policy but on forging unity in a nation long fractured by political and economic strife.

As AKD prepares for parliamentary elections in November — an event that could define his capacity to enact reforms — the lingering questions remain: Will the Sri Lankan people, civil society and international partners rally behind arduous yet necessary changes? And can AKD maintain the delicate equilibrium between ideology and pragmatism while steering Sri Lanka through the turbulence of geopolitical rivalries? Only time will unveil the true nature of this bold new experiment, a venture into the unknown where hope and despair coexist in a fragile embrace. The future, like Gramsci’s modernity, hangs between hope and uncertainty, awaiting its verdict in a world without illusions.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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At that time, the government did not interfere with the autonomy of universities. That independence promoted the open exchange of ideas and the development of milestones in knowledge production.

The great philosopher and former India President Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, A. P. J. Abdul Kalam, Mokshagundam Visvesvaraya, Jagadish Chandra Bose, Amartya Sen, Bipin Chandra, Andre Beteille, Jayant Narlikar, Gopi Chand Narang, Irfan Habib, Arvind Panangariya and Abhijit Banerjee are a few examples of the distinguished leaders produced by the intense intellectual exercise, academic rigor and firm devotion of this bygone era. Their education inspired them to make an impact on the world that is well-recognized globally.

Universities were once great

Today entire higher education system is directionless and unable to respond to the socio-economic and political challenges India faces. Pass rates are up even though attendance is down; clearly, instructors are inflating grades to make up for the decline in student performance. Meanwhile, skilled teachers are increasingly hard to find and nearly one-fifth of positions are vacant. Why have the previously glorious Indian universities declined to such an abysmal level? There are many reasons for this sorry state of affairs.

These problems developed gradually during the decades following independence. Previously, education was considered a noble profession. Back then, educators were devoted to their mission. Universities utilized their autonomy, state funding and position of honor to reach new academic horizons. They flourished as higher learning and research institutions because they always promoted merit and employed the most talented professors. Meritocracy was fruitful. Universities achieved the pinnacle of academic excellence in every field of knowledge.

Over the years, universities substituted merit with nepotism. Faculty and administrators used their positions to serve their families and selfishly used university resources to benefit themselves.

Corruption accusations mounted, from selecting faculty based on family ties, misuse of infrastructure grants, awarding scholarships to needy students, harassment of research scholars and many other academic and administrative indiscretions. There was also an unwillingness to update outdated curricula and teaching methods. This set the stage for the government to regulate institutions of higher learning.

Government made things worse 

The increase in government regulations did not mean increases in spending on education. Total spending may have increased, but as a percentage of GDP, government spending on education has decreased since 2014. A staggering interim decrease of 16% in allocations for higher education accompanied this in 2024.

Brain drain is another major challenge for our country. The system cannot attract the best talent in India because they migrate to foreign universities for better educational opportunities. After completing their degrees, they settle there, benefiting the host country.

Intellectuals in India also contribute to the decline in the quality of higher education with their lack of seriousness. They perform their duties casually, devoid of the spirit and zeal once deeply ingrained in intellectual life and scholarship.

After much hype, the government implemented the National Education Policy of 2020. It gravely hurt the erstwhile excellent teaching environment, particularly in non-professional undergraduate and post-graduate colleges, by intermixing the arts, humanities, social sciences, hard sciences, commerce and other subjects. This created a cacophony in the curriculum and a ballooning number of students and academics.

Both students and teachers pursuing the policy are confused and directionless. Teachers are helpless to pursue this academic mush. The expectation that students become jacks of all trades is detrimental to the deep and diverse knowledge once taught in Indian universities.

Copying professional institutions like IIMs or IITs by introducing a semester system with three tests and one project each semester burdens students. The increasing number of students in each academic session makes it difficult for teachers to properly and seriously evaluate them, resulting in an additional burden for teachers. Further, year-round testing provides few days for classroom teaching.

Unfortunately, it is not clear what today’s government wants for India’s future. The new generation may emerge as intellectually paralyzed with no serious interest in pursuing undiscovered knowledge – which used to make Indian universities glorious. Or, they may become mediocre so-called “intellectuals,” unable to authentically pursue truth in the academy and honesty in life. What nation will this state of affairs create?

The politicization of higher education may be the biggest challenge in India. Only a few institutions of higher learning, like the Indian Institute of Science, the Indian Institutes of Technology and the Indian Institutes of Management, are not subject to the bureaucratic creep brought on by increased government control. As a result of administrative overreach, universities lost sight of their vision and mission. Now, they are simply upholding the policies and political programs of the government in power.

Governments appoint ideological cronies as vice-chancellors and directors, the chief academic-executive officers of universities. They also influence the appointment of faculty, monitor syllabi and curricula development to indoctrinate students in favor of their policies.

Economic concerns and the power-hungry nature of Indian society push younger generations to find work in the civil services because they offer opportunities to grab power and make money.

Today, teaching is a last resort for young people. It is considered an alternative after failing to enter the civil services or engineering, medical or management schools. These rejects are poor teachers and researchers because they lack enthusiasm and commitment. Instead, they indulge in unionism, money-making and other disreputable activities.

There is hope for higher ed in India

We need to do much to revamp higher education in India. First and foremost, we must recognize the appropriate role of teachers in nation-building. They should not perform non-teaching functions like facilitating general elections, administering polio drops or going door-to-door to administer the national census.

Bureaucratic wrangling must not dilute respect for teachers. The autonomy of higher education, especially curricula and research subjects, must not be controlled by the state. Universities must also receive adequate government funding.

We urgently need a healthy public debate that compares the major differences between Indian and world-class universities. This can set the direction for bold structural reforms in higher education based on what world-class schools are doing right.

Information technology should play a role in creating a knowledgeable society and world-class universities in India. If properly utilized, Information Technology can tremendously impact student growth and foster learning, especially during the COVID crisis. Today’s students prefer classes that use modern technology because it supports learning. There is also a rising preference among students for digital libraries.

India must strive for multi-dimensional and broad-based quality education to maintain its leadership in the 21st century. Right now, Indian education is “not competitive.” To ensure survival and growth in today’s competitive business environment, institutions of higher education must monitor their performance periodically and make necessary changes to adapt to new circumstances.

Without significant reforms, the Indian higher education system risks creating isolated pockets of excellence while failing to adequately serve the nation as a whole.

The Kothari Commission (1964–1966) reminds us of the importance of maintaining quality in higher education, saying, “The situation of higher education was unsatisfactory and even alarming in some ways that the average standards have been falling and rapid expansion has resulted in lowering quality.”

Competitive participation in the global community of institutions of higher learning requires significant determination. The benchmark set by developed countries may be the standard. However, middle-income countries should not give up their cultural-intellectual traditions while staying relevant in the global intellectual community. Middle-income countries must also be wary not to fall victim to emerging neo-colonial threats. 

In a world of rapid change with endless educational possibilities, Indian higher education must adapt to the challenges of the contemporary world and explore new vistas of unexplored knowledge in the interest of humanity. 

[Joey T. McFadden edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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Bed zero usually held gravely diseased patients requiring urgent resuscitation. At that time, a young female patient occupied it. She had been out with her boyfriend when she fell into a lake. We had administered CPR when she was brought to the hospital half an hour later but hadn’t been able to revive her. A white sheet now covered her from head to toe.

The boyfriend’s legs shook as he cried. It was the first time I had seen someone literally “fall to their knees.” The father had stormed into the emergency department, took one look at his daughter, screamed and grabbed the boyfriend by his neck. Despite the father’s thin frame, it had taken four security guards to separate them.

But it wasn’t the tragic love story that had me depressed. I sighed as I twiddled with the two-milliliter syringe in my hands.

Bed one contained a young male patient. He’d been rushed into the emergency with multiple notable abrasions on his face. I had rushed to reach him to ask his name, intending to evaluate if his airway was intact. Since he had answered without a problem, he didn’t require an intubation. I walked away, disappointed.

But not having been able to try an intubation wasn’t why I was depressed. Forget intubation; I couldn’t even do one of the most basic procedures required of a doctor. I glanced at my syringe. All I had managed to do was successfully coat its insides with heparin to prevent blood from coagulating when I took a blood sample. 

On bed two lay a twenty-year-old female patient in a bright red, traditional wedding dress. She clearly belonged to a family with a high social standing. Before her marriage ceremony to a man her family had betrothed her to, she had jumped from the top of the fancy palace at the marriage site. The jump resulted in complete fractures of both her femurs and a few vertebrae. Her oddly angled legs didn’t fit the picture of her glowing skin and mehendi patterns at all. She was currently being uncooperative with the doctors despite being in a lot of pain. It probably didn’t help that instead of being sympathetic, her father seemed to be scolding her. Her story sounded like a classic feminist tale: a strong woman who rejects the man her patriarchal family promised her to.

Her story was common in India, but that wasn’t why I was depressed. I raised the syringe in my hand. It glinted in the light above me. The speck of blood inside it taunted me, a reminder of my failure to obtain an arterial blood gas, or ABG, sample.

For most laboratory investigations, either a venous or an arterial blood sample would work. However, an arterial blood sample becomes particularly important when administering oxygen to a patient. Since arterial blood contains the oxygen absorbed in the lungs, the measurement would indicate whether or not the patient is responding to the supplied oxygen.

My success with ABGs was like playing tennis: on some days, my top spins were inside the court, and on others, my racket became a cricket bat and launched the ball into space.

Today was one of those cricket bat days. I had tried three ABGs and failed all of them. Obtaining these samples had become so normalized for me that today’s failures were equivalent to forgetting how to breathe. Perhaps someone ought to take my ABG and check my oxygen levels.

I knew that until I solved my current problem, I wouldn’t be able to function normally. But the situation was complicated. ABG success rates are linked to confidence. My first failure at the ABG had put me on a vicious cycle that ensured the rest. But why had my self-confidence been low during the first one? Was it because I was sleep-deprived, having been doing twelve-hour night duties for three days now? Or was it because I’d had a quick dinner because I woke up late? Or maybe I was annoyed at my friend during our debate yesterday about his firm beliefs in the subjectivity of emotions?

My hands clenched involuntarily. I looked down at them in surprise, finding nail marks in my palms. Ah, so this is the reason.

My friend claims that emotions are irrational and unpredictable. He said that each person reacts to situations in different ways, and therefore emotions are subjective. On the other hand, I believe that the emotional response is not only rational but very predictable. Emotional responses stem from patterns formed from accumulated experiences. Understanding a person would make it easier to anticipate their reactions. Businesses and social media even exploit this technique when advertising their products. But my friend had been thoroughly unwilling to consider my ideas.

Four attendants rushing a stretcher into the emergency snapped me out of my musings. I instantly got up along with the other emergency medicine residents. The patient’s eyes were partially closed and his face was lacerated in various places. A large flap of his scalp hung loose, revealing red and black tissue beneath. 

By the time I realized that his altered consciousness was an indication to perform an intubation, a resident was already in position at the head of the patient with an endotracheal tube in her hand. Disappointment rose in me. But then I scoffed at my foolishness: what was the point of feeling disappointed about not having the chance to perform intubation when I couldn’t even take an – 

“ – ABG, now!” someone called.

The world kicked into high gear. Of course. The patient was being intubated and connected to a ventilator. An ABG would be needed to check that the intubation had his oxygen saturation under control.

I glanced at the syringe in my hand. It would be poetic to say that this syringe that had failed me previously would now help me succeed. However, this needle carried the risk of HIV transmission since I had already pricked a patient with it. I threw away the syringe and took a new one, quickly flushing it with heparin. I stood beside the patient, gazing at his wrist, imagining I had ultrasound eyes that could see directly to his radial artery.

“Please, he’s already in so much pain.”

One of the patient’s companions was looking at me. Judging by her age, I assumed she was the patient’s mother.

“I know,” I replied. “This sample will help with the treatment.”

“He’s already been pricked. Look at how hurt he is. Don’t cause him more pain,” she pleaded desperately.

I glanced at the patient. His eyes were directed at the ceiling, unseeing. He groaned intermittently, straining against the cuffs tied to his hands to prevent him from pulling out the tube reaching down his trachea. With multiple lacerations, a few skull fractures and a part of his head peeled off, I doubted he’d feel the prick of a needle, even if it was for a procedure as painful as an ABG.

Because arteries are deep beneath the skin, the needle pierces a lot of tissue to reach the artery, causing pain. Additionally, arteries aren’t directly visible like veins are. People inexperienced in the art of taking ABGs usually end up poking around blindly until they finally pierce the artery. When I had first managed to get my first ABG, it left me ecstatic for the next week. Today, however, I was proving incompetent. I felt as if my failures to obtain an arterial blood sample had rendered five years of the effort I had put into medical school useless. What had gone wrong so suddenly? What if this happened to me later on when I became an established doctor? Forget established – was I even worthy of becoming a doctor?

I closed my eyes and tried to shut out my thoughts and the patient’s mother’s talking. With each passing second, her buzzing complaints got louder and more distracting. I knew I needed to do this fast before she changed her mind about letting me take the sample.

I opened my eyes and uncapped my syringe. The patient was lean and thin; hence, his veins were prominent. They were begging to be sampled. I had to remind myself they weren’t important here; the unseen radial artery was. I placed two fingers on the patient’s wrist, trying to locate the pulse that indicated the artery’s position. I held my syringe slightly above, poised to strike.

If my looks could burn, I would have turned the patient’s hand to ashes. The pulse teased me. At one moment, I felt I had gauged their directions perfectly, and in the next, they seemed to have shifted. Every micro-adjustment of my fingers left me feeling dissatisfied. I turned my needle a few degrees clockwise, then counterclockwise; a few degrees upwards, and finally downwards. Yes. If it were going to work, it would work like this. With a final feel for the pulse, I poked the patient’s skin in one clean stroke. He didn’t even twitch his hand. I moved my needle deeper with a bated breath. 

Suddenly, red flashed in my plastic syringe, and my heart soared. It was perfect. With each beat of the pulse, the volume increased. 

When the blood reached the mark of one milliliter, I placed a piece of cotton at the puncture site and withdrew the needle. “Press that cotton against his wrist for at least 5 minutes,” I instructed decisively. It was verbal confirmation to the universe that I had collected the sample against all odds.

Task completed, I turned to leave when the patient’s mother spoke. “You’re just going to keep taking his blood instead of healing him.”

I opened my mouth to reply, paused, and then closed it. At my level as a medical intern, there was a limit to how much I could help patients. There was nothing more I could do than take the sample. So I didn’t respond.

I walked towards the blood gas analyzer. As usual, it was in the calibration process, something it did whenever it wasn’t running a sample. And for some reason, it would go on and on repeatedly four or five times in a row before it decided to perform its duty. It was as if it had an Indian government job. So, as I waited for it to (metaphorically) drink its tea, I thought about the mother’s comment.

Was there really nothing else I could do for the patient?

I should have been happy. At long last, I’d gotten my hand back on collecting arterial samples. However, an uncomfortable feeling gnawed at me, like butterflies in the stomach coated with uneasiness. I had been questioning whether or not I could become a good doctor since I couldn’t take blood samples. But now, even though I had taken one, the patient’s relatives had still not been convinced of my worthiness. I looked at the syringe in my hand. Was there a point to it?

Almost poetically, the blood gas analyzer beeped, signifying its readiness to work again.

It’s not about the sample

The difference between the emergency department and the medicine wards is time. In the emergency department, patients don’t have time because…well, they need treatment as fast as possible. In the wards, however, most of the patients are stable. And because they are no longer in a dire condition, they have plenty of time to ask questions. 

So, while in the emergency room, I didn’t face issues taking blood samples from patients. The ward was a different story altogether. 

“I have been pricked three times since the morning.”

“Yeah, but those were different samples…”

“Ouch, ouch, OUCH! AHHH!”

“I haven’t even pricked you yet!”

“Sir please please please…”

“I’m trying to heal you, not torture you.”

“Sir, I’m sick, I’m sick!”

“You think I don’t know that? That’s why I’m doing this.”

“Do you promise this is the last time?”

“Do you promise to get better without treatment?”

It was currently 10:30 pm in the medicine ward. The evening rounds had dragged on particularly late. Considering that I’d been here for over 13 hours, I was a little desperate to finish up and go have dinner. But of course, I’d been given one of the most time-consuming samples to collect – a bacterial blood culture.

I walked towards the assigned patient’s bed, my arms full of gloves, syringes, blood culture bottles, clean gauze pieces and a betadine bottle. The patient eyed me menacingly as I dumped my tools onto his table.

“I’m not going to be giving you my blood,” he declared, putting on his glasses as if he were a lawyer getting prepared to argue his case.

I sighed. It was going to be a long blood draw. 

“Why is that?” I asked as I unpacked my sterile gloves, confident that I’d change the patient’s mind in the time I needed to prepare my equipment.

“I’ve had no change in my condition since I arrived here. The only thing that you doctors have been doing here is taking my blood and nothing else. Don’t bother with your sample. I won’t give it to you.”

And here I’d been hoping to get this done within ten minutes. I looked up at him. He was around 60 years old. He seemed educated, too, and well-off economically. His son, sitting beside him on a stool, gave me an apologetic look.

Realizing that my plan wasn’t going according to my predicted timeline, I put down my half-opened gloves. “Look. Medical treatment takes time. Your diagnosis…” 

I glanced at his file. He had multiple myeloma, a cancer of the bone marrow that forms defective white blood cells. Because these white blood cells can no longer fight against infections, the patient becomes susceptible to microbes. This patient was running a fever, which meant there was a chance he had an infection. And to check for that, we needed to get his blood cultures.

“I have a friend who is a doctor,” he interrupted me. “I visited him a month ago. He gave me some medication, and my back pain resolved instantly.”

“Yes, but he didn’t treat the underlying condition, did he? You’re here in our hospital. That means you aren’t well.” I was no longer arguing.

“There is no underlying condition; there’s only destiny. What has to happen will happen. Just the other day, I had parked my car outside my house. I’ve been parking in that exact spot for over ten years now. I’ve never had any trouble. Yet, one week ago, someone crashed into the side mirror. I’ve never had an accident while driving, but my car got damaged while stationary.”

“Uh…okay?”

“That’s destiny. What happened is completely illogical. I should know since I’m a math professor at university. How do you explain that?”

“Bad luck?”

But he wasn’t waiting for my response. Whether or not I answered, he continued within two seconds of asking a question.

“If I’m going to die, I’m going to die. You and all your medicines can’t stop it from happening.”

“Your disease can be controlled. There is a decent chance of remission,” I insisted.

But he wasn’t listening to me. “All you can do is take my blood and test it. And with the amount you take, you’ll kill me faster than my disease is. As a matter of fact – “

“Can I take your sample while we talk?” I asked.

He didn’t answer my question and continued talking. I slowly reached for his hand, waiting for him to resist. He didn’t. I assessed his veins, tied a tourniquet, wore gloves, cleaned the sample site and held up my syringe. He was looking at me, fully aware of what I was doing. He didn’t stop me, choosing to just keep talking instead.

All I had to do was “hmm” and “ahh” intermittently. I was vaguely aware that the patient was discrediting the medical community with his supposed logic. He was also saying something about how honest he was and didn’t accept bribes from students for a passing grade on their test papers. All the while, I took his samples. He didn’t even wince or complain about the fact that I had pricked him in two different sites as required for a blood culture.

When I finished my work, he was still speaking. “Politics is involved everywhere. Take my university, for example. Some of the students – “

“I’m done with taking your samples.” I showed him the two bottles.

He took a few seconds to register them. “Good for you. But it won’t change anything. Remember that.” He huffed.

I checked the time on my phone. It was almost 11:00 pm.

“Well, goodbye,” I said and walked away.

A voice followed me. “Sir?”

I turned around. It was the patient’s son. He had followed me into the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You are currently a student, right, sir?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You’ll be a very good doctor in the future, sir.”

I tilted my head. With faculty, senior and junior residents all working here, and considering their pivotal roles in treatments, I hadn’t even considered myself a doctor. Forget a good one. “Uh…thank you.” I fiddled with my culture bottles.

“No one talks to him,” the son continued. “Everyone just comes, does their work and goes away. You were the first person to truly talk to him.”

I felt a little guilty. I hadn’t exactly spoken to the patient to make him feel good; I just wanted to make him amiable to give up his blood. “You’re welcome.” I decided that was the best response. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When I arrived the next day, however, I didn’t see the patient or his son. When I asked where he was, the junior resident told me that the patient’s vitals had collapsed in the night and that he’d died. They had tried resuscitating him without success.

I sat back in my seat, silent and confused. The patient had been just fine yesterday. I had a conversation (albeit a one-sided one) with him. Now, suddenly, he was dead. I’d seen a lot of patients die before, but I hadn’t talked to any of them for that long before it happened. The discussion I had with the patient hadn’t meant much to me yesterday, but today, it felt as if it should. Had I really made the patient better? Did it even matter since, ultimately, he had died just a few hours later?

I thought back to the son’s words. Neither he nor the patient had cared about the fact that I had successfully collected his blood sample. They had just appreciated that I talked to him. It hadn’t been my medical skills that impressed them. It was as if only I appreciated my skill at taking blood cultures and ABGs. Were my medical skills not enough to make me a good doctor?

Perhaps having maximal knowledge wasn’t entirely the correct answer to being a good doctor. Sometimes, quack doctors, the kind who prescribed pointless medication and unnecessary IV fluids, were preferred by patients purely because they received more attention. I had heard multiple studies suggesting that what patients wanted from their doctors was to be adequately heard.

Was this why the patient’s son had appreciated me yesterday?

Maybe if doctors were receptive as well as knowledgeable, that might put them above the rest. Still, it seemed much more logical to hone my medical knowledge and procedural skills than to invest time and energy in my communication ones.

I didn’t have an answer then. Until I figured out what was suitable for me, the sight of blood in my syringe during a successful sample draw would continue to fuel me.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post “A Good Doctor”: Balancing the Professional and the Emotional appeared first on Fair Observer.

Nao Jr was seemingly always busy, either ‘on duty’ in the only medical unit that Strait Island had, distributing medicines in case there was a need for anyone on the island, or fishing in the early morning or late evening, or just sleeping, which was his favourite pass-time. He agreed to help me record the folk tale only after 9 at night and I agreed to his terms, as I was excited to find at least one person in the entire habitat of eight households who claimed to remember a tale. He promised to visit me in the guesthouse. I was very anxious to receive him at the stipulated time.

I remember distinctly that it was 21 January 2006. Nao came to the guesthouse, thinking that he would finish the job in one evening. Little did he know that linguists have the bad habit of checking each and every word and phrase that is uttered. In the first sitting, he tried to narrate the story in Andamanese Hindi. He would halt in between, groping for the right words or phrases. When he was not satisfied with the Hindi version, he would suddenly revert to the appropriate Andamanese word. This was rather exciting and educational for me. The long-lost language was getting revived gradually in an ancient tale. I never expected this!

The loud choruses of the crickets and frogs had begun in the tsunami-created marshes and swamps behind our guesthouse; the power had been switched off and we were all sitting in the dark. We knew it was past 11 pm. We used to get electricity only for two hours. Nao wanted to retire. I extracted a promise from him to visit us the next day, at his convenience, but with the Andamanese version and not the Hindi one. He said he had forgotten it all. When I insisted that he could attempt to remember it at night while going to bed, he agreed to try but was sure that his memory would fail him. ‘Chaaliis saal se sunaa nahiin, kaun bolega? (It has been 40 years since I have heard it; who can narrate it?)’ He was sure he would disappoint me.

Then came the next day. I was making some grammar notes sitting on the wooden bed in the afternoon. I saw Nao standing at my door with an expectant look on his face. The moment I looked up, he said in Hindi, ‘Kuch kuch yaad aataa hai (I can remember a little).’ I invited him in and then we sat around the bed, turning it into a makeshift table. He started narrating the same story in short Great Andamanese phrases, not very fluently, but mixed with Hindi. Narayan, my student, assisted me in recording and transcribing the story. This is how our long journey of the Great Andamanese narration started, a journey into the past. I would interrupt him to get Hindi equivalents and he could, with a 90 percent success rate, render them. It took us several days, to get the full version of the narration of ‘Phertajido’ and the subsequent word-for-word translation. Sometimes, we would have our sessions in the afternoon and sometimes after 9 pm, as he was always busy fishing by the Strait Island jetty after sunset. This was a great story and I could see he loved narrating it.

The translated version of this story had some gaps, which I realized only after coming back to Delhi. I decided to go through the entire process again during the next trip. I was lucky enough as Nao obliged me during my next trip to Port Blair in December 2006, almost 11 months after our previous visit.

On reaching Port Blair in December 2006, I discovered that Nao was in Strait Island and not in Port Blair as I was informed by a tribal friend on the phone before I left Delhi. The AAJVS officials not only failed to honour my already sanctioned permit to visit Strait Island but were also on the lookout to catch and arrest me if I pursued my research. No one in the mainland would believe that a researcher could be arrested for hearing a story from the Great Andamanese tribes for work. Under the pretext of safeguarding the protected tribes, the concerned official would disregard the sanction given to us by the Home Ministry and would expect us to grease his palms. I neither had the means nor the inclinations to oblige him.

There was no way of informing Nao of my arrival in Port Blair. Unfortunately, Strait Island had no phone connections. The only wireless communication that the island had, was in the hands of the government officials. I had no option but to visit the Port Blair jetty and take a chance and see if I could run into any of my tribal friends on the ship. Ships for Strait Island leave very early in the morning at about 5:45 am. It was 19 December 2006; I reached the jetty much before the stipulated time. A crew member from one of the ships recognized me. By then, many local officials, especially those who worked on ships and boats, had started recognizing me as a friend of the Great Andamanese tribes. As soon as this man, a ticket checker at the departure gate saw me, he indicated towards the next ship moored in the distance and said, ‘Go and see Reya. She is going to Strait Island.’ This was a girl from the Great Andamanese tribe, whom I knew very well and who had married a Bengali man. I ran towards her, lest I lose her. She immediately recognized me and greeted me with a namaste. She introduced me to her husband. She asked me in Hindi, ‘Kab aayaa (when did you come)?’ Reya is one of those Great Andamanese tribal girls, who loves to amalgamate herself into our society and is happy to forget her heritage language. I told her that I desperately wanted to see Nili (the pet name of Nao). She informed me that Nao was on Strait Island and had no plans of visiting Port Blair. My world was falling to pieces.

I knew requesting the administration to transport Nao Jr to Port Blair would not help. I knew that getting permission to travel to Strait Island will be equally difficult, as some officers-in-charge were against any research on these tribes. It is a shame that the members of these tribes are kept as captives in their own land and are restricted from meeting other Indian citizens. Had it not been for the initiative of the Great Andamanese themselves, they would have never befriended locals and visitors like us. I immediately fished out a piece of paper from my purse, wrote a note in Hindi in bold letters, and gave it to Reya to pass it on to Nao. I told her to ask him to have it read out to him by one of the school-going children. I also told her that the sole purpose of my trip to the Andamans was to meet Nao and my other tribal friends, but Nao in particular. She promised to deliver the message.

[Listen to a song included in the book: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuqMVBnNoWs.]

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Voices from the Lost Horizon: Stories and Songs of the Great Andamanese, Anvita Abbi, Niyogi Books, 2021.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Voices from the Lost Horizon: Stories and Songs of the Great Andamanese appeared first on Fair Observer.

Previously, at the 2021 National Development Planning Conference, Widodo said that if Indonesia could implement this agenda, the country could achieve its national development. 

Indonesia has made efforts to reduce gas emissions by switching from fossil fuels to green energy. At the 2022 G20 Bali Summit in Bali, Indonesia, the country launched the Just Energy Transition Partnership (JETP). This partnership relies on a financing scheme of $20 billion from the member countries International Partners Group (IPG) — European Union, United States, Japan, Canada, Denmark, France, Germany, Italy, Norway and the United Kingdom — and is coordinated by the Glasgow Financial Alliance for Net Zero (GFANZ). Each of them provided funds amounting to $10 billion.

Indonesian Minister of Foreign Affairs Retno Marsudi handled diplomacy with other countries. For example, Marsudi met with the Norwegian Minister of Foreign Affairs Anniken Huitfeldt by agreeing to a Memorandum of Understanding on the forestry sector; Norway is committed to assisting Indonesia with $250 million in the context of implementing JETP. According to a statement from the Ministry of Environment and Forestry, the current efforts make Indonesia optimistic about reducing its greenhouse effect from 29% to 41% by 2030.

Indonesia lacks commitment to green energy

Despite Indonesia’s optimism, the country must overcome great challenges in carrying out the energy transition. The country has repeatedly issued statements regarding clean energy, but talk isn’t enough; it must fulfill its commitments. Its primary energy remains driven by non-renewable fossil fuels. The Center of Economic and Law Studies (CELIOS) released a study in 2024 showing that Indonesia’s dependence on coal and oil is enormous. Two of the reasons are the economic price and the vast potential space for miners. This is why Indonesia still experiences an “addiction” to non-renewable energy.

The coal sector increased from 100.51 million barrels of oil equivalent (BOE) in 2018 to 167.41 million BOE just one year later. A figure in CELIOS’s study shows a peak in 2022 of 299.19 million BOE. Although there is a decline in 2020 and 2021, it does not show a significant figure.

The weakness of Indonesia’s commitment is plainly obvious when looking at private and state banks, which support the non-renewable project. Take the coal mining company PT Adaro Energy Tbk as an example. In May 2023, Bank Mandiri, Bank Negara Indonesia, Bank Rakyat Indonesia, Bank Central Asia and Bank Permata contributed $1.75 billion for the construction of the Steam Electricity Power Plant (PLTU, abbreviated based on the Indonesian spelling) with 1.1 gigawatts in North Kalimantan.

According to Bhima Yudhistira, Director of the Center of Economic and Law Studies (CELIOS), this disbursement of funds shows that the rate of return for loan funds is still high. In fact, there has been a great deal of encouragement in the construction of the Adaro project to move away from coal. Several banks, such as CIMB Niaga Bank, Standard Chartered, Mizuho Bank and HSBC Bank, withdrew from the coal business.

The green energy mix target for 2030 reaches 44%. Harryadi Mahardika, Director of the Clean Transition Program, says that Indonesia’s noncommitment toward the energy transition is also accompanied by an increase in the 35 Gigawatt Program electricity initiative. The majority of this remains dominated by coal-based PLTU.

In 2023, the publication Kompas revealed that out of Indonesia’s total energy consumption the previous year, renewable energy made up only 12.3%. This is an increase of 0.1% from 2021. The data shows that Indonesia still needs to reach the government’s target of 23% in 2025. The government even failed to meet the 15.7% target in 2022.

According to Amin Nasser, CEO of Saudi Arabia’s Aramco oil company, reducing gas emissions is just a ‘fantasy’ for the country. Naseer predicts demand for gas will increase in the next few years rather than decrease. Therefore, Indonesia and other countries clearly lack commitment to the green energy initiative.

The JETP scheme needs crucial clarification

Another issue is that the JETP scheme has yet to be clarified. The IPG’s financing will come in the form of debt. However, economists fear this could burden the fiscal sector, resulting in Indonesia entering a debt trap. In 2023, the data company Katadata found that 60% of Indonesia’s debt will be concessional loans, 17% will be in the form of guarantees from the US and UK through the International Bank of Reconstruction and Development, 14% will be non-concessional and the remaining percentage will be in the form of equity investment and grant funds. Additionally, the GFANZ group needs to share financing details. This can be dangerous if the Indonesian government is not careful.

The launch of the Comprehensive Investment and Policy Plan for the JETP (CIPP JETP) had little impact on the situation. Before its publication, Indonesia had launched its Energy Transition Mechanism (ETM) with the Asian Development Bank (ADB) on November 3, 2021. In the CIPP JETP document, Indonesia decided that the Cirebon-1 PLTU, with a capacity of 1×660 megawatts, would retire early in 2035. The Pelabuhan Ratu PLTU would then retire in 2037.

Even though they are already in the ETM, these two PLTUs remain a priority for early retirement in the CIPP JETP document. According to the government, this pension policy is a compliance action to reduce global emissions. However, this step is repetitive — Indonesia has never been serious about solving environmental problems by diversifying other PLTUs.

Similarly, PLTU Suralaya and PLTU Paiton will be targeted for early retirement. However, Wahyudi Iwang, the Executive Director of WALHI West Java, pointed out that the early retirement schemes for PLTU Cirebon-1 and Pelabuhan Ratu do not reflect the principles of justice. Iwang stated that in the ETM scheme, the ADB did not inform the public of the decision’s consequences. One way is to use technique co-firing. Based on reports and research results from the Center for Research on Energy and Clean Air and the Institute for Essential Services Reform, this technique can only reduce emissions by around 20%. Fortunately, that will still make a positive impact on air pollution, and especially on public health.

The energy transition must (but can’t) be equally distributed

The third problem to consider is that not all regions can make an energy transition. This is a negative trend in the context of the equal distribution of green energy. Researchers Media Wahyudi Askar and Achmad Hanif Imaduddin’s study, “Indonesia’s Energy Transition Readiness Index: Mapping Current Conditions and Navigating the Future of the Energy Sector,” shows that DKI Jakarta occupies the top position with a score of 84.24, followed by Special Region of Yogyakarta (66.4), Banten (58.5), Central Java (55.22), West Java (55.19) and East Java (52.89). Simultaneously, provinces outside Java cannot follow the energy transition trend, such as Papua, Central Sulawesi, Bangka Belitung and West Papua; the majority of them score below 40.

According to Askar and Imaduddin, provinces with high averages are supported by sufficient financial capabilities. For example, until 2020, as many as 90% of Solar Power Plants (PLTS) were still located on the island of Java. Provinces with low scores need help due to, among other things, the electrification ratio. When compared on a national scale, these provinces are below 99.2%.

Another challenge is human resources. Provinces with low scores tend to have low human resources for understanding foreign languages ​​and technology, such as computers and electronics.

We can conclude that the Indonesian government’s commitment to implementing a green energy transition needs improvement, especially when the government failed to implement mixed energy towards net zero emissions. Apart from the country’s minimal commitment, the energy transition in Indonesia still needs to be characterized by unclear JETP schemes and equal distribution in each region. Based on this, it is obvious Indonesia is not ready to carry out the green energy transition.

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Why Indonesia’s People Will Fail to Transition to Green Energy appeared first on Fair Observer.

Nepali Proverb

(Those who live in a place from where the Himalayas cannot be seen may not be trusted.) 

At the time of writing, the monkey menace is a lightning rod for a great deal of public anger in the hills. Everyone seems to be perpetually persecuted by them. At the old Charleville, guards armed with airguns stalk the campus to scare off the simians, especially after one of the aggressive rhesus monkeys lunged at one of the Deputy Directors, completely disregarding his seniority, forcing him to take immediate evasive action. He jumped over the railing straight into the defile down below. Result? A broken arm!

Or you could say that Mr Obtuse, a college professor was to a certain extent responsible for the sudden explosion in the rhesus population. Don’t jump the gun and get me wrong. It all goes back to the winter vacation when our dear teacher went off to his home in the plains.

On meeting an old friend, he jokingly complained of a flagging libido. ‘I’ll fix that!’ promised the friend. Later, he gave him some specially concocted sweetmeats put together by a renowned herbalist, who’d made a minor fortune peddling cures for all kinds of sexual ailments, near the Clock Tower in Moradabad. Fortified with a box brimming with aphrodisiacs, our professor came home to his flat in the narrow lanes of our bazaar. On the very first day, he ate one, leaving the box near the window. The rest, as they say, is history— not his, theirs! A pesky monkey grabbed the box, spilling the contents on the ledge below. In the ensuing free for all, the sweets were gobbled up by a troupe of monkeys. Now don’t ask me if it worked. Honestly! I don’t know. But you have my word for it—there was an immediate jump in the population of simians. I hear there were rumours that one of these red-bottomed rhesus’ had a big grin on his face whenever he peeped through the barred windows of the learned professor’s abode looking for fresh supplies!

And grinning were the langurs too at one of the town’s best walkers, a certain Miss Crabbit who, having retired from a girl’s school settled here and has not stopped walking since. Given to the belief that those who walk sixteen kilometres a day are blessed with an eternal life, she sets off on her walk after a frugal breakfast, returns home for lunch, and takes off again to stagger home at dusk.

Things went well for years, that is until one of her nieces brought her a silvery fur coat to keep her warm through the cold winter. Hardly had she stepped out of her flat, when she noticed that she was being trailed by a troupe of amorous black-faced langurs marching in step behind her!

Now! That’s real monkey business.

Up until the 1960s, we had a tradition of doctors who made their way to the mountains from the sultry Ganges delta of Bengal. Foremost among these was a Dr Mitra, who ran a private clinic near the Old Theatre. On retiring, he passed on his practice to Dr Bagchi who, for some weird reason, always wore a monkey-cap. You could tell that summer had come when the good doctor removed his cap and little kids on the road went around yelling: ‘Papu ki topi uttar gayey!’ (Old man’s taken off his cap!)

Dr Bhaduri though had no cap fetish, he specialized in sex problems. Right next to the Electric Picture Palace cinema, he had a garish hoarding that showed an exhausted lion lying flat on its face before imbibing his magical aphrodisiac, while on the other side there was that magnificent pride of Africa, roaring at the tourists much in the manner of the MGM lion. Things were going well for the good doctor, up until the day police came knocking at his door.

What could he have done? He wondered. His medicines were not that bad!

The warrant stated he had certified as dead a man who was alive and kicking, and mad and angry too, because meanwhile his estranged wife had run off with the proceeds of his insurance policy. Off to the police station they marched and into the lock up he went for the night. The barred metal door clanged shut only to be opened the next morning when he was produced before a magistrate.

Lo and behold! As luck would have it, the doctor recognised Mr Tormented, the duty magistrate, as the errant youth whom he had a long time ago treated for venereal disease. Now, seated on his august chair, memories of another day came flooding back, he could still remember the burning sensation every time he had to visit the loo. Bashfully, he now remembered approaching the doctor, and managed to mutter: ‘Doctor Sa’ab, I think my thing has a cold.’

Dr Bhaduri had taken one look, smiled and said: ‘Till it sneezes, may be I’ll treat you with penicillin.’

On this fated day, their eyes met again. Time’s relentless sand papering had weathered them both as the clock rewound to twenty years ago. What mattered was that at the decisive moment, they were partners in crime again.

‘Doctor Sa’ab! What are you doing here?’ asked the judge.

‘Police say I’ve certified the living as dead! And his wife has taken off with his insurance!’

‘How did that happen?’

‘These men dragged me out of my bed at night and into a hotel room,’ he recalled, almost as in a dream. ‘Yes! There was a body. I wrote the name they gave me. Can you ask a dead man his name?’

‘True! Very possible!’ nodded Tormented, saying: ‘A case of mistaken identity. Bail granted.’

For the rest of his days, I am told Dr Bhaduri stopped taking house calls. The word was out that he would break out in hives if you so much as phoned him to take a house call.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Gupp and Gossip from the Hills, Ganesh Saili, Niyogi Books, 2012.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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The views expressed in this article/video are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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The essential tenets of education as propounded by Gandhi can be summed up as follows:

1) Education must serve the nation’s needs consistent with the philosophy of freedom, truth and non-violence.

2) Equality of all religions and all men.

3) Equal importance to intellectual training and manual work, which should be socially useful and productive.

4) Mother tongue as the medium of instruction at all levels along with the compulsory teaching of Hindi.

5) The curricula and other arrangements should aim at serving the needs of villagers.

It was a basic principle of all Gandhian institutions that teachers should regard untouchability as a blot on Hindu society and should strive for its removal and should never exclude a boy or girl for reasons of his being an untouchable, nor treat him or her differently after admission.

Manual work was an integral part of Gandhian education. There is no point, he used to say, in developing the brain only. One has to develop one’s brain through one’s hands.

Gandhi had been engaged in the work of rural reconstruction, harijan uplift and political regeneration and therefore, his fingers were constantly on the pulse of the common people. He realised that unless education was given a new orientation, it would not be possible to build the social order that he cherished. He placed before the nation a scheme which he had been evolving for 40 years—a scheme popularly known as the Wardha Scheme of Education, which he called ‘Nayee Talim’ or New Education. He defined it as education for life and through life.

Gandhi’s educational ideas grew out of his experiments in education with his family and in his ashrams in South Africa and India before they were formulated and publicly announced. By education he meant an all-round drawing out of the best in the child and man—body, mind and spirit.

‘That education alone is of value,’ he said, ‘which draws out the faculties of a student so as to enable him or her to solve correctly the problems of life in every department.’

‘Nayee Talim means teaching through craft. That basic craft has to be selected in the light of the conditions and produce of the region.’

According to him, self-reliance was the most important characteristic of Nayee Talim. The knowledge that this system imparted could not be had from books. It was from nature that this knowledge had to be obtained. ‘Knowledge directly derived from anything was much better than knowledge derived through a written lesson or through symbols. That was the essential basis of Nayee Talim.’

Basic education discarded bookish learning and aimed at an all-round development of the child so that he could become a useful and productive member of the society. In his last talk on Nayee Talim on 14 December 1947, Gandhi said, ‘Basic education is generally interpreted as education through craft. This is true to a certain extent, but this is not the whole truth. The roots of Nayee Talim go deeper. It is based on truth and non-violence in individual and collective life.

The Wardha scheme left out teaching of religion because Gandhi held that religions as they were taught and practised led to conflict rather than unity. Truths common to all religions could be taught. No denominationalism or factionalism was to be encouraged specially between Hindus and Muslims.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Gandhi’s Vision: Freedom And Beyond, Aparna Basu, Niyogi Books, 2018.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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Donald Trump and Imran Khan’s unexpected friendship

The year 2018 began with a jarring discord when Trump, then in office, launched a stinging tweet accusing Pakistan of deceit and duplicity for accepting billions of dollars in foreign aid while purportedly sheltering terrorists. The tweet ignited a diplomatic conflagration. Pakistani Foreign Minister Khawaja Asif retorted sharply, summoning the US ambassador in Islamabad to the Foreign Office to lodge a formal protest. This sharp exchange underscored the fragility of the US–Pakistan relationship and set the tone for the turbulent interactions to follow.

The discord reached new heights in November 2019 when Trump once again targeted Pakistan via Twitter, accusing it of continuing to harbor terrorists. By this juncture, the Pakistani political landscape had undergone a significant shift. Imran Khan, leader of the Pakistan Movement for Justice party, now served as prime minister. Khan’s response was a fervent defense of Pakistan’s honor, which he framed against the broader backdrop of its sacrifices in the War on Terror. Khan’s retort not only challenged Trump’s assertions but also underscored the broader implications of these accusations — the US was holding Pakistan to an unfair standard, blaming it for its own failures in Afghanistan while exonerating itself.

Amid these diplomatic storms, a surprising development emerged in July 2019 when Khan visited Washington. His arrival was marked by an unexpected red-carpet reception from the US president. This high-profile greeting was emblematic of a shared populist ethos between the two leaders. Both Trump and Khan, having risen to prominence with considerable celebrity status, shared a mutual disdain for the conventional political establishment. A certain camaraderie characterized their interaction and suggested a potential thaw in their relationship.

Could a change in administration alter Washington–Islamabad relations?

Both Khan and his party have been the target of numerous legal maneuvers and political machinations. In April 2022, an unprecedented no-confidence motion in parliament removed Khan from office. Since then, Khan has been repeatedly accused of various crimes, convicted, jailed and then acquitted on appeal; he remains, however, in government custody. Given the apparent warmth between Trump and Khan, Trump’s candidacy in 2024 has spurred speculation within Pakistan about a possible revival of Khan’s political fortunes.

Despite fervent lobbying efforts by the Pakistani diaspora, including those with access to influential US senators and congressmen, current US President Joe Biden’s administration’s approach to Pakistan and Khan has remained largely unchanged: The White House has not condemned the brutalities faced by Khan’s party or the ongoing political turmoil. This apparent inertia has heightened the anticipation surrounding a potential Trump return.

Anecdotal evidence suggests that, historically, US–Pakistan relations have fared better under Republican administrations. The Cold War era and the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks illustrate how Republican presidents have often taken a realpolitik approach and sought to rekindle ties with Pakistan for strategic purposes. Still, Trump’s leadership style is transactional and inherently unpredictable nature. It could open the doors to potential negotiation, but it is impossible to make definitive forecasts. 

Besides, US–Pakistan relations were never easy to put in a box, especially given the US’s strategic partnership with India — a crucial ally in its efforts to counterbalance China. The India factor creates a formidable obstacle for any potential shift in US policy towards Pakistan. The Biden administration’s alignment with India reflects a broader strategic calculus that might constrain the scope for any significant policy changes. Nevertheless, if the Pakistani diaspora succeeds in mobilizing influential Republican congressmen to advocate on his behalf, there could be a sliver of hope for more favorable outcomes for Khan, on the individual level. (Anecdotal evidence suggests such efforts are already underway.) 

While Trump’s return might offer a glimmer of hope for Khan’s political revival, the uncertainty surrounding Trump’s presidency, and the broader geopolitical considerations render any forecasts speculative. Diplomatic maneuvering, strategic interests and personal relationships are all at play.

As the world watches the unfolding drama, the future of US–Pakistan relations and Khan’s political fortunes remain in flux. The next chapter in this saga promises to be as unpredictable and riveting as the twists and turns that have come before.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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The BNS and BNSS have set new priorities for the criminal justice system in India. For instance, they put a new focus on the safety of women and children. The reformed legislation introduced a mandatory recording of the statements of the rape victim statements and increased punishments for offenders. Additionally, digital infrastructures under the Inter-Operable Criminal Justice System (ICJS) — an ambitious effort to digitize police investigation, prosecution, and court proceedings — streamline processes and enhance coordination. In practical terms, a rape case will now be less amenable to tampering with evidence and lead to faster conviction.

This article explores the recent systemic reforms in the government’s digital infrastructure to address women’s safety, focusing on policy impacts and criminal justice reform in India. The recent criminal justice reform in India marks a significant shift in priorities. It now places crimes against women, children and the nation at the forefront. This starkly contrasts the legacy of colonial-era laws, where threats to the British Crown outweighed the justice to the ordinary Bharatiya citizens. The shift focuses on urgency, importance and expedited timelines for investigation processes.

Provisions that Prioritize Women’s Safety

The BNS, 2023, introduces a new chapter on crimes against women and children, repositioning relevant sections. Sections 63 – 99, under Chapter V of the act, have prioritized women’s safety, doing away with the colonial placing of these sections at the fag-end of the former Indian Penal Code, 1860 (IPC,1860). A new provision under Section 69 has been introduced by the Ministry of Home Affairs in the BNS, 2023, that governs sexual intercourse by employing deceitful means. Under the IPC,1860, the section on crimes against women was contained in Chapter XVI, which dealt with offenses affecting the human body, which has now been brought forward under Chapter V of BNS, 2023. 

The Home Minister, Amit Shah, stated that addressing and resolving crimes against women is a priority of this government. While some may perceive the rearrangement of these sections as insignificant, its effects will reverberate significantly throughout society. Additionally, all offenses against women below the age of 18 are now uniformly aligned with The Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act, 2012 (POCSO, 2018), simplifying the procedure for the police and judges.

The punishment for rape went from seven years to ten years by the BNS, 2023, which corresponds to Section 376 of IPC, 1860. Recording statements of the rape victim is compulsory in rape cases as part of the reformed procedure. This small change solidifies the intent of a single punishment and does away with the earlier alternatives to methods of punishment. 

Additionally, the provision for the death penalty for gang rape of women below 18 years of age under section 70 of BNS. Furthermore, Section 72 of BNS, 2023, now actively protects the identities of sexual assault victims.

Streamlined procedures and leveraging technology

Pursuing these substantive provisions, the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita, 2023 introduces streamlined judicial procedures for sensitive crimes. Changes include submitting a mandatory medical examination report to the police station and court within 7 days. The magistrate must take cognizance within 14 days, and the accused’s request for acquittal must be made within 60 days. All of these factors provide a speedier judicial process.

The new procedure mandates First Information Report (FIR) registration within three days, with the preliminary investigation for offenses punishable by 3 to 7 years. Electronic FIR allows women to lodge complaints, with responses provided within two days. A new provision now mandates video recording of evidence, search and seizure to reduce the framing scope. Female judicial magistrates will take statements in cases of sexual offenses. 

The augmentation and reinforcement of legal processes now use a robust digital infrastructure. It shows the government’s commitment to digitize and modernize the criminal justice system. This digital infrastructure operates under the banner of the Inter-Operable Criminal Justice System (ICJS). This infrastructure comprises five pillars: e-FIR, e-forensics, e-prosecution, e-courts and e-prisons. This integrated system plays a crucial role in expediting and ensuring the accuracy of legal procedures, fostering better coordination among diverse stakeholders in the criminal justice system.

While discussing these legislations in Parliament, Amit Shah highlighted the relevance of data integration for faster and seamless criminal justice redressal. The ICJS’s digital infrastructure facilitates seamless data recording, integration, reporting and searching capabilities, enhancing the ability to track criminal activities across state boundaries. It mainly supports the implementation of procedures outlined in the BNSS, prioritizing citizen safety.

Databases created by the National Crimes Records Bureau (NCRB)

The government has established specialized databases under the Crime and Criminal Tracking Network & Systems (CCTNS) umbrella in response to the urgent need for effective and timely investigation. This overarching initiative acts as a repository, creating an efficient environment for multiple law enforcement investigations. Some of the databases from the National Crimes Records Bureau (NCRB) specific to women’s safety include:

• Investigations Tracking System for Sexual Offences (ITSSO). It was launched in February 2019. It allows the state to undertake real-time monitoring and management of cases of rape and POCSO to be able to complete the investigation in two months. 
• National Database on Sexual Offenders (NDSO). This is a searchable registry of offenders for various sexual offenses like rape, gang rape, eve teasing, stalking, child abuse, etc. It includes the offender’s name, address, photograph and fingerprint details. 
• The Cyber Crime Prevention Against Women and Children Scheme (CCPWC) was launched as part of the Indian Cyber Crime Coordination Centre by the Ministry of Home Affairs. The portal caters to citizens, State/UT Police and other Law Enforcement Agencies. The NCRB recently signed an MOU with the National Centre for Missing & Exploited Children (NCMEC) USA to share the Cyber Tipline reports related to child sexual abuse material.
• The National Database of Human Traffickers (NDHT) is a one-stop database for all information related to offenders involved in cases related to the Human Trafficking of Children and Women. 

The changes in laws and establishment of digital infrastructure consolidate all initiatives under one umbrella, making a truly ‘Naari’ Suraksha Sanhita (Women Safety Code). This journey from discussions to deliverables through robust digital infrastructure shows the intent of citizen-centric efforts.

[Tara Yarwais edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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When I was eight, I was drawn to the Mahabharata TV show by BR Chropa. My parents loved watching the show, but it sent eight-year-old me either sobbing to my room or gasping in wonder more times than I can count. Flashes of quivering mustaches and fiery red saris encrusted with jewels haunted my nightmares. Oceans of tears gushing down porcelain faces, accompanied by blaring trumpets and angry crescendos, elicited emotions I had never experienced before. 

Even in those early years, I found myself constantly analyzing the roles played by the characters in the infinite versions I saw. From Duryodhana to Yudhisthira, I believe it’s worth it to examine the course of the characters’ lives and the extent to which their own misgivings and flaws led to their eventual demises. Draupadi, the main female protagonist, fascinated me in particular: time and again, the actions of the men and women in her life affected her greatly, yet she still remained strong-willed and steadfast.

One particularly interesting source I will consider is The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, a chronicle of the life of Draupadi in the first person. Accordingly, I’ll also be focusing primarily on Draupadi as an individual.

Everything begins with a fateful game of dice

In the serial Mahabharata, I could only watch Draupadi’s cheerharan, or undressing, through the gaps in my fingers. It utterly discomfited me as a child. A single piece of cloth clings to the dips of a woman’s body as she stands in a royal hall. Her hair is tight in the grasp of a man, and he reaches in glee to disrobe her for all to witness. Some of the men in the room watch with enjoyment. Others watch with helplessness. Though surrounded, the woman is utterly alone.

Just as Draupadi is on the precarious edge of losing her womanly dignity, she ends up preserving it by the grace of Lord Krishna. Krishna thwarts the men by blessing her garment to remain endlessly long. Ultimately, Draupadi escapes humiliation, but the scene makes one think of how it could have been prevented in the first place. Who was truly at fault for setting it into motion? Let’s rewind a little and examine the scene, like my own parents often did during the particularly dramatic moments.

The ordeal begins with a succession crisis, a warring family and a fateful game of dice. The ancient kingdom of Kuru had been split down the middle. One half had gone to the Pandavas, a group of five brothers, and the other half had gone to the Kauravas, their cousins. Originally, the father of the Pandavas, Pandu, had been king of Kuru. His older brother Dhritarashtra, father of the Kauravas, had given up his birthright due to his blindness. However, an incident with a rishi, or sage, left Pandu humiliated and exiled. Dhritarashtra regained the throne. To avoid a succession crisis between Dhritarashtra, the Kauvaras and the Pandavas, the kingdom of Kuru was split down the middle.

Duryodhana, eldest son of the Kauvaras, grew angry at the perceived unfairness. His maternal uncle Shakuni urged the Kauvaras to take advantage of Yudhisthira, the eldest Pandava son, and his gambling addiction. Several sources assert that wily uncle Shakuni possessed a pair of magical dice. Initially, Yudhisthira was on a winning streak, but his euphoria fueled his greed for more. That’s when things went downhill. With Shakuni’s help, the Kauravas won game after game and Yudhisthira lost and lost. His palace, the lives of Pandavas, the clothes on their backs were all gambled away, but he never stopped playing. Eventually they had nothing to their names — not even Draupadi, wife to all five Pandavas, who Yudhisthira had bet and lost. Eventually he had to gamble off their wife too, and the rest, as they say, is history. 

Now — who was at fault for this taking place? Let’s first look at Yudhisthira. Son of Kunti, demigod, with an undying belief in dharma (moral behavior and duty) and a passionate love of truth. Son of Yama, mild, with a crippling gambling addiction. Although it was Yudhisthira’s fatal habit that brought about the incident, that is not to say Yudhisthira gets off scot-free. There are other aspects of his person to be considered. How contradictory, how hypocritical, it was of this “moral” man to gamble off his entire life before his and his family’s eyes? His initial winnings spurred him to continue playing out of arrogance. For an upholder of dharma and a believer in justice, who is he to deal off his entire family? Out of arrogance? He treats his own brothers — and even himself — as objects, exchanged in the blink of an eye in the game of die. But there is no one he considers an object more than Draupadi.

To her husbands, Draupadi is property

Draupadi is a woman divided among five men. This polyandry may appear better off for her — she gets five husbands — but at the end of the day, she isn’t able to wholly love one man of her dreams. This is wonderfully elucidated in The Palace of Illusions, which states, like many sources, that she was actually in love with a man named Karna. Draupadi, like piecemeal, is fragmented, divided to be shared by her five husbands. Let’s not forget that she could only enjoy each man as her husband for one year until his turn came again. Most importantly, each husband took more wives for himself. She was simply the one common wife.

Even after serving as a dutiful wife, even after accepting that she might never truly have one loving husband who would devote himself entirely to her, the helpless Draupadi was gambled away by Yudhisthira. Was she truly his to gamble? Did he treat her as a husband should a wife? Sure, he regarded her with due respect. But she wasn’t — in the true sense of the word, in every sense of the word — his. Draupadi, considered one of the paragons in the Hindu feminist mythological narrative, was pawned off like she was nothing. Keep in mind that this is done by the same great upholder of dharma.

One fascinating point to note is that Yudhisthira had already gambled himself and his brothers away. They did not “own” themselves. Now, this leads one to believe that since they owned nothing now, not even themselves, they did not own Draupadi. Was it truly right for him to gamble away his wife, who he did not own now?

What is perhaps even more shameful is his brothers’ passive reactions to the whole incident. Their sense of duty and respect toward their brother outweighed the need to defend their wife’s honor. The Pandavas could have easily prevented their brother from making this lapse in judgment, but they were bound by their perceived dharma. Then what truly is dharma? Is righteousness truly obedience and passivity in the face of wrongdoing, or is it standing up for the defenseless? Their behavior begs the answer to the question of which holds more value in society. 

Who is truly at fault?

Some scholars suggest it was Draupadi herself that set things into motion. According to several sources, when the Kauravas visited Indraprastha’s famed Palace of Illusions, Duryodhana mistook a glossy river for a slab of glass due to its unmoving stillness. After attempting to walk on the “glass” and subsequently falling, allegedly Draupadi couldn’t hold in her mirth and exclaimed, “The blind man’s son is also blind.” A mortified Duryodhana vowed for revenge. However, according to Divakaruni’s book, it wasn’t Draupadi who laughed and made this statement but a handmaid of hers. Draupadi had simply smiled, but Duryodhana misconstrued the situation and assumed it was Draupadi, seeing her through her window watching him. 

Her smile or laugh may have been a deliberate act of defiance, reflecting her strong-willed nature. Duryodhana took this as her mocking him — something his ego simply could not handle — and this exacerbated already rising hostilities between the two sides. While Draupadi’s laughter is a notable incident, it is by no means an excuse to justify Duryodhana’s acts during the vastraharan. It’s important to understand that Draupadi, too, is human, and thus displays human emotion — her lighthearted laughter reflects her strong will; it may have been a moment of relief or defiance for her during a time of high tensions.

The women turned a blind eye

Draupadi isn’t the only woman who has agency — or lack thereof — in the story. Gandhari, mother of the Kauravas, is one who, in my opinion, isn’t talked about enough in the context of this incident. She’s regarded as a woman who isn’t afraid to undergo harsh physical torment to attain what she wants. According to legend, she underwent severe penance to attain a boon from Lord Shiva, who granted her the blessing of being mother to a hundred sons. (This raises questions of where the value of a woman truly lay in those times if a hundred sons was considered a boon, but that is a discussion for another time.)

A devout woman, she was married off to Dhritarashtra, older brother of Pandu and the blind prince of Hastinapur. In an act of solidarity and devotion she blindfolded herself so that she may live like her husband. This act has been widely debated by scholars, some stating that this was to rebel against her father and the Kuru dynasty for pawning her off to a blind man. The question now arises; why does Gandhari hide from reality? The act of blindfolding herself is an inherent abdication from responsibility. Instead of navigating the challenges of being married to a blind man, she retreats from the world and paralyzes herself. 

Some argue that true support for her husband would be to guide him and provide strength in areas he lacked. However much it can be argued that she was simply adopting the moral high ground, she has been proven to be a selfish woman by supporting her sons’ cruel ambitions. 

Gandhari could have utilized her sight to participate actively in her children’s lives and court activities, but she quite literally turns a “blind eye” to their actions. Being the mother of the Kauravas, it was Gandhari’s duty to instill in them values of respect for all and justice. It was her duty to identify the misgivings of Duryodhana and his moral and ethical lapses. His lack of a participating, seeing maternal figure may have contributed to his cruel disposition.

Moreover, she could have guided her disabled husband and exerted her authority as queen mother to stop the gambling match. It was her duty as the wife of a monarch to assist him in upholding dharma. Her inaction in the face of her son’s scheming against the Pandavas can be seen as a form of tacit complicity. She made no efforts to prevent his plans from escalating. As already underscored, she symbolically and literally blindfolded herself to remove herself from any blame and refuse to acknowledge the harsh injustices happening under her watch.

The scrutiny of maternal figures wouldn’t be comprehensive without a look at Kunti, mother of the Pandavas. Kunti was the firstborn of Yadava ruler Shurasena and was given to her father’s childless cousin Kuntibhoja at birth due to a promise made earlier. She, not unlike Gandhari, gained a boon (through her hospitable treatment of a sage), to summon a celestial being at will to beget children. 

She begot her first and eldest son Karna through the impetuous satiation of this boon while she was still a virgin. The father of Karna was Surya, the sun god. Kunti, who was just testing out her boon, begged him to go back, but nothing could be done. And the son of the sun was born. 

To untether herself from her newborn child, Kunti made a decision that would affect the years to come in ways unimaginable. She abandoned him on the Ganga.

The men encouraged malicious behavior

The unknowing Karna, adopted by a poor charioteer, grew up to become one of Duryodhana’s staunchest allies. As the Kauravas’ ally, he became one of the Pandavas’ deadliest foes, and strengthened the Kauravas’ military position. Kunti’s deep-rooted efforts to keep her eldest son’s lineage a secret only bolstered the hostility between the Pandavas and the Kauravas and increased familial discord.

Furthermore, Karna grew insecure of  his ostensibly poor lineage due to the subsequent discrimination he would face. The most obvious evidence of this is shown in Draupadi’s swayamvar, or presentation of suitors, where he was not allowed to participate due to his lack of status. This injustice compounded his yearning for recognition, which in turn contributed to his future decisions and persona. All of this because Kunti refused to face her mistake.

Karna’s insecurity and subsequent hatred of Draupadi due to his humiliation at the swayamvar may have contributed to his inaction during the proceedings. He was an active perpetrator at the vastraharan — the disrobing — directly contributing to it by demeaning Draupadi and encouraging Duryodhana. He humiliated her by calling her a “whore” for being wedded to five men. Karna’s argument was that since Draupadi now belonged to the Kauravas, she had no rights, no dignity, and her disrobing was justified. This point becomes especially controversial when viewed through the lens of Divakaruni’s Palace of Illusions, where it is stated that Draupadi and Karna loved each other. How, then, was this an act of love? His mortification is justifiable, but his action was not. Draupadi continued to love him in the book, even after this incident. Was this heinous act of disrespect really forgivable? 

Karna had the power to stop the violence. Duryodhana paid rapt attention to Karna’s every word according to most sources and this book as well. Had Karna made efforts to stop the act, the whole incident could have been avoided. The escalation of the conflict and the resultant Great War itself could have been a possibility.  

Inaction from others aside, Duryodhana and Dushasana were the most obvious perpetrators in committing the shameful act. Duryodhana commanded for Draupadi to be brought to the court for her public humiliation. Draupadi was, at the time, going through her menstrual cycle, during which she was a Rajaswala, a menstruating woman, and had to wear a single garment. 

In Dushasana, I sometimes think that true evil is manifest. He is a symbol of the darker shadowed regions of the Kaurava clan — representing greed, envy, aggression and an utter disregard for justice. He callously slapped Draupadi and dragged her by the hair even as she protested, showing no remorse for his actions and gleefully reveling in her mortification. Duryodhana proceeded to verbally abuse and demean Draupadi in court along with his brothers. Warnings from the older and wiser courtiers like Vidura and Bhishma fell on deaf ears as he insisted on her disrobing. Where was dharma in all this? 

The elders of the Kaurava court are also to blame. Dhritarashtra, the father; and Bhishma and Vidura, both family members; are not as helpless as they seem. Bhishma Pitamaha is supposed to be a beacon of wisdom and authority. Why, then, did he not stop the vastraharan? Dhritarashtra may have been crippled but he was certainly not powerless. His weakness in yielding to Shakuni’s manipulation and his son’s follies cannot be ignored. Vidura, as an elder, could have provided more forceful counsel to Duryodhana and ordered him to stop. 

With so many key figures contributing to the vastraharan, it is difficult to determine whether it would still have taken place under different circumstances. Duryodhana’s deep-seated animosity, Shakuni’s orchestration, the lack of intervention and above all perhaps some divine will all played their own parts in instigating the incident, and many, to different extents, are to blame.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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Long before the Emperor’s entourage set out, astrologers and wise men were consulted to determine the most auspicious time for the Emperor to enter Kashmir. Nothing was left to chance. Over 3,000 stonecutters and labourers were hired to improve the condition of the road, while officials headed to the hills to determine the location of the huge camping areas fit for an Emperor and his court. The arrival was a sight to behold. Bystanders watched in disbelief while wide-eyed ragamuffins scurried for cover as their village was transformed into a camp city packed with merchants and vendors, astrologers, men of arms and men of letters accompanied by a huge retinue of advisors and attendants

Leaving the heat and humidity of Lahore far behind, the Emperor’s party gradually ascended the Himalayan foothills. The trails through the forests and verdant meadows became increasingly attractive. The spring flowers thrived at the margins of the snowmelt, shepherds lead their flocks to the summer pastures, while golden eagles glided on the thermals. It was a world away from the bustling markets of Lahore or Agra. In such alpine splendour Akbar relished the prospect of undertaking an extended tour through the enchanted Vale of Kashmir.

It took the best part of a month for Akbar to reach the base of the Pir Panjal. It was the last week of May 1589 and rumours were rife of snowdrifts blocking the pass. Akbar’s advisors met late into the night, mindful that the decision to advance could not be taken lightly. While the Pir Panjal Pass (2,830 m) is not high by Himalayan standards they were acutely aware of the ferocious pre-monsoon storms that could descend on the pass for days on end. They might also have been aware that the ancient sages had cast spells on the pass so that whenever a foreign force attempted to cross the pass, ‘black clouds soon gather and rain and snow pour down’. The next day would determine who was right, the court astrologers or the ancient sages.

Reaching the camp beneath the Pir Panjal Pass the weather seemed perfect. As darkness fell, no one read the ominous signs in the night sky. Whether the Emperor’s entourage were equipped to withstand the elements was soon to be put to the test. When Akbar set off the morning was clear and the day was full of promise. Within the space of an hour gale-force winds slowed his advance to almost a standstill. When he finally set foot on the pass his view was totally obscured in a maelstrom of deep swirling clouds. The distant claps of thunder were a further portent not to linger. Any chance of Akbar savouring his first spectacular view of Kashmir was vanquished in the storm. It was not the most auspicious start to Mughal rule over Kashmir.

Akbar had been Emperor for over 30 years before he visited Kashmir. By then Kashmir had been secured by his army. After crossing the Pir Panjal Pass they encountered little resistance before making a triumphal entry into Srinagar in the first week of October 1656. The Mughal Empire now extended from Kashmir as far as Kabul and Kandahar, a vast territory that had not been governed by a single entity since the times of Kanishka and the Kushan Empire in the first century. The groundwork was now in place for Akbar’s arrival.

Akbar’s three visits to Kashmir offered a welcome escape from the prosaic demands of ruling his empire. Kashmir was to be known as his private garden, a retreat from the rest of his empire. A popular yet in some ways misleading reference, for it was his son, Jahangir, and grandson, Shah Jahan, who were responsible for commissioning Kashmir’s famous Mughal gardens.

Akbar spent five weeks on his first tour of Kashmir. The countryside with its meadows dotted with spring flowers, the scented pine forests and the temperate climate, a world away from the soaring heat of the Indian plains, exceeded his expectations. Yet, if this was a paradise on earth no one had informed the people. Court officials forewarned Akbar that the people were forever subject to famine and abject poverty. The country was in dire need of sound administration, but where to start in a land where ‘there is an abundance of futile talks and concealers of the truth’. It was fortunate that the Emperor could turn to Todar Mal, his acclaimed Finance Minister, who proposed wide-ranging land reforms including an equitable tax system that was not too onerous for the villagers.

As the Shahenshah—the King of Kings—Akbar assumed an almost god-like status. In his exalted position he encouraged debate between Muslims, Brahmins, Christians and Jains, while his Court facilitated freethinking, granting patronage to poets, writers and artists. Not surprisingly, he made time to seek out pious men and hear their version of the divine. Less than a month after his arrival he sought out Wahid Sufi, who lived in solitary existence in a cave deep in the countryside to the south of Kashmir. The highly regarded Sufi led a life ‘gathering happiness on an old mat … Concerning himself little with men’s customs, some called him mad and some called him an atheist. He lived apart from joy and sorrow and took nothing from anybody except broken bread’ .  It is a testimony to Akbar that he acknowledged how the humble Sufi taught him how he could, ‘keep his soul always well pleasing to God as far as his power would allow’.

The Emperor made his third tour of duty to Kashmir in 1597. By now the Mughal army needed to secure its presence and an order was given to build a fort at the base of the Hari Parbat hill. To ensure the army did not place undue strain on the local economy, the precincts of the fort were made into a cantonment. High-ranking government officers were quick to acquire the most prestigious blocks of land to build opulent houses with uninterrupted views across Dal Lake to the ridges of the rugged Zabarwan Range. The huge walls encircling the cantonment were completed later during the reign of Akbar’s son Jahangir. Sections of the masonry remain intact, including the Kathi Darwaza—the main entrance— where an inscription remains in place commemorating Akbar’s reign.

Well before his father’s death in 1605, Jahangir was enamoured with Kashmir. He returned briefly two years later but it was not until 1620 that he came back and spent the best part of nine months in the valley. It was a heaven-sent opportunity to experience the full change of seasons. Little of beauty escaped his notice and like his father he was enthused with the natural wonders of the valley.

Kashmir is a garden of eternal springs or an iron fort to a palace of kings—a delightful flower bed and a heart expanding heritage for dervishes. Its pleasant meadows and enchanting cascades are beyond all descriptions. There are running streams and fountains beyond count. The red rose, the violet and narcissus grow of themselves; in the fields there are kinds of flowers and all sorts of sweet scented herbs, more than can be calculated. In the soul enchanting spring the hills and plains are filled with blossoms; the gates, the walls, the courts, the roofs are lighted up by torches of banquet adorning tulips.

Jahangir took particular delight visiting the mountains. He recounts the beauty of Toshamaidan close to Gulmarg, where he identified over 50 varieties of wildflowers. He describes the flowers with all the passion of a man temporarily removed from the tedious life of day-to-day politics. Indeed the retired British administrator H. Beveridge who edited Alexander Rogers’ translation of the Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri or Memoirs of Jahangir (also known as the Jahangirnama) from Persian to English, asserts that ‘had Jahangir been the head of a National History Museum (rather than an Emperor) he would have been a better and happier man’.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Kashmir: A Journey Through History, Garry Weare, Niyogi Books, 2020.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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From his udukkai was born waves of sound

From that sound was born music

From that music was born the different dances

From dance was born the form of koothu

From that koothu was born the grammar of dance

From that was born the style of drama

(Saathanar in the Kootha Nool, p.189.)

Dance has always been associated with Shiva, the one who is called Adavallan, or expert dancer, and worshipped at Chidambaram as Nataraja or the king of dance.

Everywhere is the holy form

Everywhere is Shiva and Shakthi

Everywhere there is Chidambaram

Everywhere there is the sacred dance

Since He is everywhere, everything is the manifestation of His dance.

(Thirumoolar in Tirumanthiram, verse 2674.)

This dance, at the behest of the gods, was codified and given to humans so that they may offer it as worship to them particularly to Shiva as Nataraja. The dancer experiences through her movements, the sublime heights of emotion, the pleasure of the divine consciousness, and leads her audience to the same state.

Amongst the most ancient dance forms in India, Bharatanatyam can be called the child of Thanjavur for it was here that it was systematised as we know it today, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Originally called Sadir, it was in the preserve of the devadasi community and was later adapted and rechristened as Bharatanatyam. As mentioned earlier, dance, drama and music were closely linked in ancient and medieval India and were seen as offerings to the divine.

Indian dancing is not a mere movement of arms and legs but one where every part of the body from the little finger to the eyes has a significant role. All poses have been codified centuries ago and the greatness of the artist lies in how she uses her entire body to capture that pose and how she makes the audience feel the emotion conveyed by that pose.

Dance has two primary elements—nritta and natya. Nritta are rhythmical and repetitive elements of thirty-two body parts, such as head, hands, heel and eyebrows, which are used by the dancer to dance to the beat and are interspersed with natya. Natya is the dramatic art, and is a language of abhinaya, mudhra and poses using the limbs. The dancer uses both nritta and natya to tell a story that is sung to music. Abhinaya could, for example, be facial expressions to show various emotions. Mudhra could be the using of fingers and hands to denote animals or attributes of gods. Since mudhras and abhinaya in general cannot be seen from a distance as in a large hall, dance was meant for small groups.

There are nine main or primary emotions, also termed rasas or moods in Indian aesthetics: shringara (love), hasya (mirth), veera (heroism), roudra (anger), bhayanaka (terror), bibhatsa (disgust), adbhuta (wonder), karuna (compassion), and shanta (tranquillity). Incidentally, Bharata’s Natya Shastra and Tholkappiyam (most scholars date this to the pre-Christian era) mention only eight rasas; shanta rasa was introduced in the 9th century by Udbhata.

Like music, dance is also an ancient tradition in Thanjavur. One of the earliest inscriptions on dance is in Arachalur which dates to circa 250 CE and is written in the Brahmi script. It contains a set of syllables that creates a rhythm or sollu kattu in today’s parlance of Bharatanatyam. The syllables ‘tha’, ‘thai’, ‘thi’ are still in use in Tamil Nadu. Paintings from this period in the Sithanavasal Jain temple also depict dancers. Silappadikaram written around the same time has dancers as protagonists—Kovalan the hero is smitten by Madhavi, who was able to dance eleven different types of dances.

Texts like Kootha-nool (koothu means dance and nool refers to a book) by Sattanaar need special mention for their rich content on dance. This work was written in the 12th century or earlier and talks about various aspects of dance. Suvai nool is about the aesthetic aspects of dance; togai nool describes different dance forms including the 108 Tandavas (or dance routines) of Shiva; vari nool celebrates folk dances including the aka vari dances which deal with love and human psychology,pura vari dances which deal with natural phenomena and mukha vari dances or the acrobatic and exhibitionist dances; vachai nool is about ludicrous dances; kalai nool is the largest of the nine nools and deals with the anatomy of the human body; karana nool talks about dance sequences; tala nool deals with time measurements and rhythm; isai nool explains the thirty pann; avai nool describes the architecture of the stage, rules for lighting, costumes, makeup and so on; kan nool describes dance as a form of yoga and advises the dancer to maintain her mental and physical form to keep her performance at the highest level.

Koothu indicates a close connection between dance and drama in the 12th century and earlier. Dramas were probably composed of several units of dance with appropriate music. The word natyam does not appear to indicate dance in any of these ancient texts. Unfortunately, no Tamil treatise on dance has survived; however, we have some of their names. Dance had taken two forms by the 14th century—one was more rigidly defined by the Sanskrit Natya Shastra and the other one, the koothu, became a more popular dance form confined to the villages and patronised by commoners.

By the Chola times there were dancers of both sexes and the position became hereditary, provided the new entrant had the right credentials. The dancers were called devaradiyar if they were dancing in the temples of Lord Shiva and emberumanar adiyar (adiyar literally means slave, here it means devotee) if they were dancing in the temples of Lord Vishnu. Dance became one of the shodasha upachara or sixteen important offerings to the deity.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Thanjavur: A Cultural History, Pradeep Chakravarthy, Niyogi Books, 2010.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Thanjavur: A Cultural History appeared first on Fair Observer.

On July 9, 2024, Modi embraced Russian President Vladimir Putin, to the chagrin of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy. In the following media briefing, Indian Foreign Minister Subrahmanyam Jaishankar defended the prime minister, noting, “In our part of the world, when people meet people, they are given to embracing each other. It may not be part of your culture, but I assure you, it’s part of ours.” This statement encapsulates the cultural divide that Modi’s hugs often bridge and the misunderstandings they sometimes generate.

Historical embracing in India and beyond

In India, embracing, or Aalingan, is deeply rooted in cultural and spiritual traditions. It’s not merely a greeting but a profound expression of trust, respect and connection that transcends verbal communication. This practice finds its origins in ancient Indian epics and spiritual texts.

In the Ramayana, one of India’s most revered epics, the embrace between the gods Lord Rama and Hanuman symbolizes not just friendship, but a deep, spiritual bond. Similarly, in the epic Mahābhārata, the god Krishna’s embraces with his friends and devotees are portrayed as acts of divine love, emphasizing the spiritual significance of physical connection.

The concept of Aalingan extends beyond mythology into everyday Indian life. It is a common form of greeting in many communities, especially among family members and close friends. It’s seen as a way to express affection, offer comfort and strengthen bonds between individuals.

While Modi’s hugs are rooted in Indian tradition, the act of embracing as a form of greeting or expression of kindness is not unique to India. Throughout history and across various cultures, this action has played significant roles in social and diplomatic interactions.

In ancient Greece, the concept of aspasmós referred to a greeting that often included an embrace. The Greeks, known for their emphasis on personal relationships and philosophical discourse, understood the power of physical connection in fostering mutual understanding. In Greek literature, this contact often signifies an emotional reunion or reconciliation between former enemies. Think of the embrace between the disguised Odysseus and his wife Penelope at the end of Odyssey. At first, Penelope does not believe Odysseus when he reveals his identity. Their hug signifies both reunion and the restoration of trust.

The Romans, too, recognized the importance of physical gestures in both personal and diplomatic contexts. The Latin terms amplexus (“embrace”) and complexus (“entwining”) were used to describe close physical contact that conveyed sincerity and built trust. In ancient Rome, the embrace signified brotherhood and common purpose. The celebrated Portrait of the Four Tetrarchs, depicting the four Roman co-emperors in a mutual embrace, amply demonstrates this custom.

Portrait of the Four Tetrarchs, Venice, Italy.

In the Middle Ages, the “kiss of peace,” or Pax, was a common greeting among European nobility and clergy, often accompanied by an embrace. This practice, rooted in early Christian traditions, was seen as a way to express unity and reconciliation within the community.

Even in cultures where physical contact is generally more reserved, there are historical instances of embraces being used in diplomatic contexts. For example, the famous “socialist fraternal kiss” between Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev and East German leader Erich Honecker in 1979 became an iconic image of Cold War diplomacy.

Depiction of the socialist fraternal kiss in Berlin, Germany. Via LBM1948 on Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA 4.0).

The strategic significance of Modi’s hugs

Against this rich historical backdrop, Modi’s embraces take on a deeper significance. They are not just spontaneous displays of affection but calculated diplomatic moves that bridge ancient traditions with modern international relations.

Geopolitics are often cold and formal; interactions are guided by strict protocols and careful words. Touch, therefore, serves as a disruptive force. It humanizes interactions, breaks down barriers, and creates a sense of intimacy that few other diplomatic gestures can achieve.

When Modi embraces a world leader, he is sending a clear message: India values personal connections, and relationships are built on more than just agreements and treaties. This approach aligns with India’s broader diplomatic strategy, which emphasizes soft power and cultural diplomacy as key tools in its international relations.

To dismiss these hugs as mere quirks or cultural misunderstandings would be to underestimate their strategic significance. In a world where geopolitical tensions often dominate headlines, these embraces serve as powerful symbols of unity and shared humanity.

Modi’s embraces have become a unique form of non-verbal communication in his diplomatic toolkit. They can convey warmth where words might fail, break ice in tense situations or reinforce the strength of existing relationships. In some cases, they have even become newsworthy events in themselves, drawing attention to India’s diplomatic engagements and the prime minister’s personal brand of leadership.

Moreover, these hugs align with India’s aspirations on the global stage. As India seeks to position itself as a bridge between East and West, North and South, Modi’s hugs symbolize the country’s ability to connect diverse cultures and political systems.

This “hug diplomacy” has drawn criticism, however. Some view the embraces as overly familiar or even culturally insensitive, especially when dealing with leaders from more reserved cultures. Others argue that such gestures can be seen as unprofessional or distracting from substantive diplomatic issues.

There’s also the risk of overuse. If every diplomatic meeting ends with this gesture, does it lose its significance? Critics argue that the frequency of the prime minister’s embraces might dilute their impact or make them seem less sincere.

The power of human connection

Despite these challenges, the enduring popularity and discussion surrounding Modi’s hugs speak to a fundamental truth about human interaction: Physical connection matters. In a world increasingly dominated by digital communication and remote interactions, a simple embrace can carry profound meaning.

As the ancient Greeks and Romans understood, and as Indian tradition has long emphasized, physical gestures can convey what words often cannot. They can build trust, foster goodwill and create lasting impressions in ways that formal speeches or written agreements cannot.

Modi’s “hug diplomacy” is more than just a quirky diplomatic style; it’s a bridge between ancient cultural practices and modern diplomatic strategies. Drawing from the rich traditions of Aalingan in India and echoing touch’s historical significance across cultures, the hugs serve as a powerful reminder of our shared humanity in a divided world.

As we continue to navigate the complex, high-stakes landscape of international relations, perhaps we should view these embraces not as oddities to be questioned, but as invitations to consider the role of personal connection in diplomacy. While divisions seem to grow by the day, a warm human touch might just be the simplest yet most profound way to unite us.

As the saying goes, “hugs are the universal medicine.” Sometimes the most effective solution can be a heartfelt embrace.

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Modi’s Uplifting Hugs Form Beautiful Connections in World Diplomacy appeared first on Fair Observer.

This is fully applicable to Thailand. The long reign of King Bhumibol Adulyadej (1946–2016), known as Rama IX, strengthened the Thai state and helped the country withstand periods of internal and regional political turbulence. Despite wars and insurgencies in the region, the kingdom maintained its internal cohesion. Rama IX’s reign undoubtedly increased public respect for the monarchy. Thailand quickly transformed from a poor agricultural country into a prosperous state.

Rama IX’s son, Maha Vajiralongkorn, whom we call Rama X, fully carries on his father’s legacy. In 2020, during the massive student protests in Bangkok, Thailand saw an unprecedented event for the monarchy. Amidst political divisions and students’ tensions with the authorities, the king gave a brief interview to the British Channel 4 News. When asked about the fate of the anti-government protesters, he replied, “Thailand is the land of compromise. I have no comments. We love them all the same.”

The Cambridge Dictionary defines “compromise” as ” a solution to a problem that makes it possible for two or more opposite or different things to exist together.” This approach underpins Thailand’s success story.

Under the current king, Thailand continues to strengthen its position in the region and takes advantage of all the opportunities of a multipolar world. The country has traditionally relied on a “policy of compromise” to promote pragmatic multilateral cooperation while focusing on its path, destiny, and well-being.

Balancing between the US and China

Thailand’s successful maneuvering between the most prominent global and regional players — the USA and China  — is a vivid example of such a “policy of compromise.”

Despite their increasing global geopolitical rivalry, Thailand maintains a delicate balance in relations with Washington and Beijing amid their increasing global geopolitical rivalry. This is a challenging task, but it has a Thai solution.

Economic considerations primarily drive Bangkok’s close ties with Beijing. China has long been Thailand’s most significant trading partner. The two countries resolved most of their differences at the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) summit in 2022. During this event in 2022, the attendees signed several agreements, including a Joint Strategic Cooperation Plan for 2022–2026, and they worked out a framework for cooperation within the “One Belt, One Road” initiative. These constitute the “road map” for the economic interaction of the two countries in the future. Planners aim to complete the Thailand–Laos–China high-speed railway link by 2027–2028. With it, Thailand is expected to increase its logistics and investment attractiveness.

Thailand primarily focuses its cooperation with the USA in the defense sphere. Since Washington named Thailand a “major non-NATO ally” in 2003, Bangkok has remained the only strategic partner of the USA in mainland Southeast Asia in the security field. In particular, during the COVID-19 crisis, the two nations were able to ensure the sustainability of global logistics routes and supply chains in the region. Sustained cooperation with the USA in the defense has given Thailand a key role in ensuring regional stability.

New economic partners

Although Southeast Asia’s second-largest economy, Thailand has lagged in certain macroeconomic indicators compared to its neighbors in recent years. A balanced and multilateral approach should also help to address this issue. The new government under Prime Minister Srettha Thavisin sees the solution to current difficulties on the “path of compromise” as well.

In addition to strengthening cooperation with the United States and China, Thailand is actively seeking opportunities to broaden its range of economic partners, especially Japan, India and Russia. Cooperation with these countries could help ensure alternative pathways for economic growth and investment.

The current government asserts that the economic recovery project will create 280,000 new jobs and help accelerate Thailand’s economic growth by 5.5%. “Our goal remains clear: Thailand’s economy must grow by an average of 5% over four years,” stated Prime Minister Srettha Thavisin. 

Thailand sees joining organizations and platforms such as OECD (Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development) and BRICS (Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa) as one way to stimulate the country’s economic growth and enhance its international credibility. By developing parallel cooperation with such diverse associations, Thailand once again demonstrates its ability to find common ground and build relationships with both Western and Eastern countries while maintaining a balance between the great powers. At the same time, promoting the country’s economic interests and strengthening ties with an ever-widening circle of developed and developing countries remains a top priority.

In the words of Foreign Minister Maris Sangiampongsa, “Thailand is unique in that we are friends with all countries and are not enemies with any country. We can serve as a bridge between developing countries and BRICS members and connect BRICS with other groups. This will strengthen BRICS’s negotiating power and help the international community recognize the importance of developing and emerging countries.”

[Liam Roman edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Thailand Is a Country of Compromise, and This Is Its Main Secret appeared first on Fair Observer.

This led me to ask: what does it truly mean to be responsible? 

When I first started college, even something as simple as paying my bills felt like a significant responsibility. But five years later, that task has become so routine that it barely registers as such. It seems that once I grow accustomed to an activity I once considered challenging, it no longer feels like a responsibility.

I now entertain the idea that responsibility is not a fixed destination but rather an evolving process that shifts with our perception and familiarity.

The threshold of responsibility as an Indian doctor 

During my clinical postings in the second and third years of medical school, a senior was always there to correct my mistakes. Whether I took an incomplete history, misdiagnosed a condition, messed up the insertion of a venous cannula or struggled with a nasogastric tube, someone more experienced ultimately bore the responsibility. Professors reassured us that, as the junior-most medical personnel in the hospital, we shouldn’t be afraid to make mistakes. While this system was comforting, it did little to bolster my confidence in my own knowledge and skills.

India’s overpopulation offered a solution to my low self-confidence. When the patients vastly outnumber the doctors, each medical professional becomes an invaluable resource for the community.

For a long time, I didn’t grasp that responsibility isn’t something Indian medical students have to actively seek; it’s imposed on us before we’ve had a chance to contemplate our competence. I began to understand this when the community medicine and family medicine resident doctors packed a group of 25 students, including me, onto a bus for school health checkups. I quickly forgot about my craving for responsibility faster than my friends’ birthdays. My new thought was: Shouldn’t we be trained for this?

As we headed to the school, I hoped for a briefing from the residents, but none came. Upon entering the building, we set up our tables and equipment and waited for the students to arrive. I continued to anticipate some last-minute guidance or instruction, but when the students emerged, I realized I would need to rely on my raw clinical judgment for the day. These children’s lives and wellbeing were in my hands, and despite my persistent self-doubt, I resolved to rise to the challenge with everything I had.

Ignorant children

My first station for the day was the anthropometry table. Instead of making challenging diagnoses, my tasks were simple. I read the weighing scale and told the kids to stand up straight with their heels and heads against the stadiometer to measure their height. I imagined the worst-case scenario: mistakenly adding a few kilograms to a child, labeling them as obese and crushing their hopes of being the popular kid in their social circle. 

I sought to experience the burden of responsibility, but all I could think about was that three years of medical school had led me to read numbers from various devices. Even my friends at the ear, nose and throat (ENT) station, who struggled to hide their disgust at the sight of hoards of earwax, seemed to be having more fun.

When my group found a student with a high BMI, we advised them to cut back on junk food, eat more fruits, go outside and exercise, blabbering generic recommendations that seemed unlikely to make a difference. We were providing lifestyle advice to children with helicopter parents, ignoring the fact that these kids had as much control over their existence as a boat in a storm. We should have educated the parents instead. They were the ones allowing their children to consume junk food, discouraging outdoor play and possibly even forcing them to attend tuition classes instead of playing with friends. Moreover, if these parenting methods were reflections of societal expectations of how children should be raised, the scale of the problem was far beyond the scope of 25 immature medical students. I couldn’t help but question whether our advice to the children was ultimately futile.

Thankfully, our stations changed soon after. I left behind the stadiometers and moved to the ENT station. 

My first patient sat before me. I asked his name, which I promptly forgot two seconds later, and chalked up his age as “young and insignificant.” I picked up a tuning fork from the table beside me, and he began to whimper. I patiently observed his reaction, trying to understand what might be causing him to behave so strangely. His eyes seemed to be trying to wish the tuning fork away. I reassured him that I wasn’t planning on shoving it inside his ear, and he quickly calmed down.

I explained the procedures for the Rinne and Weber hearing tests, telling him I would place the tuning fork at various points on his head and he’d need to let me know when he stopped hearing the vibrations. These tests would help me determine if he had a hearing problem, which ear was affected, and whether it was due to an ear canal obstruction (conductive hearing loss) or a nerve injury (sensorineural hearing loss). He nodded five times during my explanation, leading me to believe, beyond a doubt, that he was either a genius or a con artist. I realized I would spend the time trying to determine which one he was, rather than assessing his conductive and sensorineural hearing. 

To perform the Rinne test, I struck the tuning fork and placed it on the mastoid bone behind his right ear. I instructed him to raise his hand when he could no longer hear the sound. After a few seconds, as the vibrations of the tuning fork gradually diminished, he raised his hand. I then moved the tuning fork’s prongs close to his ear and asked if he could still hear it. He listened intently for a few seconds — during which I stopped feeling the fork’s vibrations entirely — before shaking his head. I almost felt like telling the kid that I had just diagnosed him with hopelessness. After all, it was my job and moral duty to counsel him about his condition. 

However, before jumping to conclusions, I decided to confirm my diagnosis with the Weber test. I struck the tuning fork again and placed it at the top of his forehead. When I asked if he could hear the sound, his eyes converged on my hand with a curious expression, as if trying to see the vibrations. He replied that he wasn’t sure. I didn’t bother asking the real question — which ear was the sound louder in. Clearly, he hadn’t understood how the tests were supposed to work.

I set aside the tuning fork, feigned seriousness, and slowly explained the tests’ procedures again. The kid nodded just once this time, but that didn’t reassure me. While it could mean he understood better, it could also mean he understood even less.

After repeating the tests I obtained theoretically sound responses. The Rinne test was negative in his right ear and the Weber test was localized to his right ear, indicating right-sided conductive hearing loss. Such findings typically suggest an obstruction in the ear canal — most likely earwax.

I picked up an otoscope, and the student’s eyes instantly widened with a mix of trepidation and reverence. He clung to my promise not to insert anything into his ear, but I was about to break our pact. I reassured him that I would just take a peek and that it wouldn’t hurt. Before he could respond, I swiftly positioned the otoscope at his ear. He squirmed, as children often do out of habit when facing medical procedures, regardless of their invasiveness. However, he quickly settled once he realized it wasn’t painful. Meanwhile, my own stomach began to churn. 

A few months earlier, I had been studying late into the night in my room. I could tell by the way my friend strolled in and collapsed onto my bed, his semi-solid form molding to its shape, he had grown weary of his exam preparation. Seeing that I would no longer make any more progress memorizing the TNM staging of cervical cancer, I closed my book and asked him what was new.

He told me to choose any object in my room. Surprised by his randomness, I rolled my eyes, which landed on my favorite dusty fluorescent jacket hanging on the door. He then asked if I could guess what it would taste like. I narrowed my eyes, and a rough, dust-filled taste burst into my mind. Turning back to my friend, I was quite impressed by how he was unapologetically steering us towards failing our exams. He explained that he had read somewhere that we could imagine the taste of anything we saw, even if we hadn’t tasted it in real life.

Back in the present, as I stared down the magnified view of a large glob of earwax in the student’s ear, I could confirm my friend’s theory was accurate. The taste, indeed, seemed greasy, a bit sticky and salty. Suppressing my gag reflex and projecting some annoyance at the student, I advised him to visit a doctor to restore his ability to listen in class. 

Small conversations

After spending considerable time acknowledging the ear wax-producing ceruminous glands, I moved on to the psychiatry station. This was the station I was most excited about. I enjoyed talking to small children; they wore their hearts on their sleeves, said amusing things and kept me entertained. Our task at this station involved asking specific leading questions to assess common issues such as ADHD, learning disorders and signs of depression. Additionally, we were to counsel girls on menstruation.

A scrawny, freckled boy sat before me, looking nervous. I asked how he was doing. “Good,” he replied. I inquired about school, asking if everything was okay. “Yes,” he said. Are there any issues in class? Are your grades good? “Yes.” Do you have friends? “Yes.” Is everything all right between you and your friends? “Yes.” At any point in time, has anyone told you that your behavior isn’t appropriate? “No.” Is there anything you’d like to discuss? We can talk about anything that you want. “No.”

I stared at him blankly, and he stared back. Concluding that he had long outgrown the need for my advice, I sent him off. Another girl took his place, and the exchange played out similarly. Perhaps I was too intimidating? I didn’t think I was. I spoke directly in everyday situations, but I used an overly sing-song voice with patients and kids to soften my demeanor.

This wasn’t going well. I wasn’t entertained, nor was I confronted with any high-stakes, life-or-death scenarios. Sure, I had always desired a peaceful life, but I hadn’t realized that peace would inevitably come with boredom.

The little girl with too many “best friends”

A tiny girl approached the chair next, making a small leap to climb into it. She settled with her back hunched and her legs dangling, giving me a scatterbrained expression. I asked her name and a few basic questions, which she answered with little enthusiasm. “Do you have friends?” I inquired as politely as possible — any softer and I would have been singing. She said she had a best friend. I nodded encouragingly. “Can you tell me more about her?”

“Yes, she’s my best friend. We eat together, play together and have lots of fun. But sometimes, she doesn’t talk to me.” 

“Why do you think that is?” 

“I don’t know,” she said dejectedly. “When she does that, I stop talking to her too. But then, after a few days, everything returns to how it was.”

Now this was more engaging. At least she was responding to my questions. Perhaps I could now move on to the actual problems I was supposed to evaluate.

“Okay.” I paused. “How are your studies—”

“I have another best friend,” she interrupted, looking directly at me. “And sometimes, both of them start talking to each other and ignore me. Then I feel sad.”

“Why do you think they do that?”

“I don’t know.”

I “hmmed” and asked slowly, “Do you think you might have done something to upset them?”

She looked up with a concentrated expression. “One time, she asked me for water, but I didn’t give it to her because everyone drinks my water, eats my food and finishes all of it.”

“That’s not very nice of them,” I agreed, remembering all the times my own friends’ parasitism peaked. 

“And one time she didn’t do her homework, so I told the teacher and the teacher scolded her,” she added, looking at me.

I tried to detect a hint of humor, but she seemed genuinely confused. Maybe she had some form of intellectual disability, I considered, staring at her, nonplussed. “Do you think what you did may have annoyed her?”

“Yes. But I said sorry afterward, and then we became friends again.”

I had forgotten how dynamic and random childhood friendships were. “Well, that’s good. Now, do you get good grades in…” Even as I asked the question, I felt like a hypocrite. The girl was in fourth grade, and I was quantifying her intellectual capabilities based on test results. 

In contrast, I had never taken a test until my 10th-grade board exams. I had no right to judge her, considering my history. I didn’t want to propagate the notion that failing to obtain good grades indicated a mental condition. 

Luckily, the girl interrupted my question. “I have another best friend,” she said with the same blank look, but her voice was enthusiastic now. “His name is Virat Kohli.”

As in the Virat Kohli, the world-famous cricketer? 

In my first year of medical school, I learned about the urethra and its two muscles that prevent urine leakage from the bladder. One, the internal urethral sphincter, opens involuntarily when the bladder fills with urine. The other, the external urethral sphincter, is under voluntary control — or so it was said to be. 

What the little girl said almost made me forget normal physiology — I very nearly wet myself. 

I felt as if the world had faded away. What remained was me, the girl, and — according to her — a 30-something-year-old cricketer attending fourth grade in a small school in Jodhpur, India.

I composed myself. “Do… umm — is Virat Kohli here right now?”

The girl nodded, and I suddenly understood why people found movies like Annabelle scary. “He’s right there,” she said, turning around and pointing toward a mass of students at the anthropometric station.

I couldn’t see anyone in particular. But then again, I doubted the girl was pointing to someone specific. Perhaps he wasn’t even tangible. The crushing weight of responsibility suddenly hit me like a train. Was this girl having hallucinations? What if I missed diagnosing her, her condition worsened, and she became a mortal danger to others? How many lives were at stake, hinging on my juvenile clinical judgment? The predicament was bigger than I had imagined. I wanted to be responsible for patients, but was I capable enough? How many budding serial killers would I need to miss before I gained the experience to detect them accurately and confidently?

As I tried to get a read on the girl, she met my gaze with the same emotionless expression. Yes, she fit the pre-serial killer profile perfectly. Her cute demeanor was most certainly part of the act.

I tried to recall the signs of hallucinations and how to rule them out. “Does Virat Kohli talk and interact with you?”

“Yes. Virat is his actual name, but we call him Viraht Kohli.”

I hadn’t asked for the information, but my body responded. I could once again hear the clamor of the students and the residents scolding my batchmates. The blurred world came back into focus, and suddenly, the girl seemed like an average child. I felt a wave of annoyance wash over me. A slight miscommunication between us had almost led to me wetting my pants.

“Is there anything else you’d like to talk to me about?” I tried to mask my irritation.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

I observed her, unsure of what to say. I saw an expectation in her eyes.

“Do you want to tell me more about your friends?” I asked tentatively.

She nodded eagerly and continued telling me about her other best friends. It turned out that even the children who pulled her hair were her best friends. I was beginning to consider diagnosing her with Dependent Personality Disorder.

But I was no longer annoyed. I now felt as if I could empathize with this little girl. She was enjoying the chance to share her life’s problems. 

Someone to listen

I recalled that when I was ten, my biggest concerns revolved around friends: Who was mean to me, who I wanted to be friends with but wasn’t cool enough for, who I had a crush on and so on. I wanted to tell someone my age at the time, but no one listened attentively. After all, if a child can voluntarily sit still and pay attention for a long time, there’s a high chance that something is wrong with their upbringing. That’s why I realized I needed someone older and more mature to listen to my “serious” problems.

I had been excited to talk to the children today, but I didn’t expect their problems to be genuine. I approached the interactions like an ignorant adult, thinking their concerns were tiny and insignificant. I felt guilty. So for the next 15 minutes, I paid close attention to every bit of nonsense that exited the girl’s mouth. 

She told me about her best friend who stole her homework, pushed her and ate her lunch. She had another best friend who told lies to others about how mean she was. Someone else kept stealing her bottles and pens. There was a teacher who scolded her for no reason, though sometimes it was because she didn’t complete her homework. At home, her older brother annoyed her.

I “hmmed” and “aahed,” acknowledged her stories, asked leading questions based on what she told me, until finally, she stopped talking.

There was a peaceful silence between us. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“No,” she said, but didn’t leave.

I waited thirty seconds, but she continued to watch me.

“Okay, you should go to the next station now. They will check to ensure there’s nothing wrong with your eyes,” I said. “I enjoyed talking to you.”

“I liked it too,” she replied in a sing-song voice before climbing out of her chair. 

As she tottered away, I considered my role in our interaction. I had wanted to make her feel understood, give her a space to share and provide relief. However, I hadn’t given her any advice or suggestions about her problems that would help in the long run.

In my experience, when people thrust their advice at me it makes me hesitant to share my emotions. The girl’s talkative nature might have mitigated that discomfort, but I didn’t want to take the same risk with her. As a result, I changed nothing in her life. I simply listened to her, hopefully made her feel accepted in the process, but I made no lasting impact.

Perhaps my duty was to explain what she should do, hammer it into her head, and push for change. While that approach might have left her feeling misunderstood, maybe it would have been more beneficial for her in the long run.

Or maybe there was some middle ground. The possible ways I could have handled the situation were endless. I couldn’t decide which one would have been the right decision, the responsible thing to do.

But what if responsibility doesn’t necessarily mean always doing the right thing? Of course, I would strive to take the correct course of action. But perhaps it’s not so straightforward — distinguishing what is correct and what isn’t. Maybe responsibility isn’t about always doing what is right, but rather about making a conscious effort to do the right thing.

[Ting Cui edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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On 17 October 1947 my father returned with the tidings that a special train for government servants would be leaving for Amritsar the next day. We packed our meagre belongings in no time. We had expected reserved seats in the train. However, when we reached the Chaklala railway station we saw a sea of surging humanity with all sorts of baggage already there. There was no question of reservation; it was free for all. An unusually long train could be seen at some distance.

There were very few coolies and they demanded fifty rupees a piece to carry the baggage. My father, Vijay and I carried the trunks. My sister and mother managed to drag the bedrolls till I was able to come back to carry one. We made for the nearest compartment. The first batch of occupants tried in vain to block entry to newcomers saying there was no accommodation. Those outside first begged and then became abusive and aggressive. The occupants had to relent more out of fear than sympathy. More families arrived by the minute. They did not ask, did not care and shoved their baggage through the door which had been half-barred by the pressure of baggage of the occupants. ‘There is no space,’ someone shouted from inside. ‘Never mind, we will go and sit on the roof. Just let our bags in.’ Soon there were more people on the roof of the train than inside. A large number of men clung to the doors and windows of compartments.

Our compartment carried a notice in English and Urdu: ‘To seat 17 persons only.’ I counted thirty men, women and children.

Soon the small compartment became a mound of trunks, bedrolls and all sorts of packets, big and small. Children clambered up the heaps of baggage and made a sport of rolling down, going up, and rolling down repeatedly.

We were relieved to notice that platoons of Gurkha soldiers mounted guard in front of the engine, in the middle of the train, and behind the last compartment of the train. They were protected by sandbags and armed with machine guns.

Having settled down in the safety of the compartment, all of us heaved a sort of collective sigh of relief. Across from us a newly married young couple sat snuggled together, the woman still in her bridal finery and forearms covered with ivory and multicoloured glass bangles. An old woman sat next to the man, probably his mother. Looking at the young couple, Vijay and I exchanged mischievous, knowing glances about what they might be feeling. Armed Gurkha soldiers patrolled the length of the train on both sides a number of times before they gave the all-clear. Then we heard the guard’s whistle. The engine hooted in response and the train started moving slowly. Soon it was dusk and the compartment was only lit dimly. Passengers began opening their packets of food — stuffed parathas and other snacks for the evening meal, some offering to share their food with others, a tradition of railway journeys in the country.

We were in the middle of our meal when we heard the sound of gunfire. The train came to a sudden halt and then began to reverse. After what seemed to be a long time, the gunfire became sporadic and then stopped. After that there was nothing to do except to try and sleep. But there was no place to even stretch our limbs. I dreamt I was sleeping on a plush bed in a palace. A jolt of the train woke me up and I found that I was lying on a heap of luggage. Such dreams came in repeated short snatches. Everyone was probably having similar dreams. It was indeed a long night. My father pulled out his pocket watch off and on and announced the time for general benefit. At long last, dawn peeped through the window shutters. Some people starting going to the toilet, the door of which was somehow kept free from any obstruction. Someone announced that we should be reaching Lahore soon. My father lifted the window shutter to check the name of the station the train was passing by. We were barely halfway to Lahore. He saw a crowd at the platform waving for the train to stop. Presumably they were refugees like us waiting to be evacuated. But the train did not stop. It was already overloaded and there was a risk that there might be an ambush. Those were not the times when people were bothered much about others.

About an hour later the train stopped again. Again there was the sound of exchange of fire. Someone climbed down from the roof and said that a burning tree had been laid across the rails and a crowd, shouting slogans and firing shots, had surrounded the front of the train not knowing that the train had a Gurkha escort. Instinctively, my mother stopped distributing whatever was left of the stock of our parathas. She whispered to us that we had to make do till we reached Lahore. ‘There we can buy something more to eat,’ she offered by way of reassurance. We understood.

But the whole day passed and there was no sign of Lahore. The train stopped twice more for extended periods. The sound of sloganeering mobs and the sight of distant arson accompanied by exchange of fire between the rioters and Gurkhas made us down the window shutters, keep quiet and hope for the best. For the time being hunger and thirst were kept at bay.

The train picked up speed and Vijay, still ‘Aslam’, started reciting chal chal fata fut, chal chal fata fut – a children’s rhyme mimicking the sound produced by wheels of an express train. That lifted the tension in the compartment.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from A Bonsai Tree: An Autobiography, Narendra Luther, Niyogi Books, 2017.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post A Bonsai Tree: An Autobiography appeared first on Fair Observer.

After your speech observing India’s 78th Independence Day on August 15, you may wish to convene the best and the brightest minds around you to respond to the country’s most pressing internal security challenge, one which no Indian political leader has had the courage to confront let alone take any steps to resolve: the sinister designs that Muslims on the Indian Subcontinent have for India.

Their plans are all the more dangerous given the overthrow of the Bangladeshi government, after which, quite expectedly, outfits like the Hizb ut-Tahrir (HuT) came crawling out the woodwork. HuT is an Islamic terrorist organization that positions itself as a political party. On August 9, it organized a rally in Dhaka and demanded the establishment of the Khalifah in Bangladesh. Such Muslim fundamentalists see India as a colonizer state, in the same vein as the US and the UK. I am sure that your National Security Adviser Ajit Doval is telling you the same thing I want you to understand: India’s neighborhood has become exponentially more dangerous than before.

Some home truths for you to note 

Before I carry on, it is my duty as a well-wisher and as a concerned citizen to point out some important truths.

First, you insisted on making the 2024 elections a referendum on your name. Now, there are no prizes for guessing where the buck ought to come to a grinding stop for the underwhelming result.

Second, ten years have vanished since 2014, the year when you won a historic first mandate. In another blink of an eye, the next election will be upon us in 2029. Soon, it will be 2047, the target year you have set for Viksit Bharat (Developed India). Even you know that this is your last term and that you are running out of time.

Third, Hinduism’s holy texts repeatedly warn of the perils of ahankara (ego). Both friends and enemies have accused you of this failing. So, I advise you to get a grip on your ahankara. Shrink-wrap and freeze it. Instead, adopt tyāga, Mr. Prime Minister. This will do you good and, more importantly, it will bring the nation tremendous benefit.

Fourth, you tried to win the Muslim vote through massive welfare schemes. Yet, unlike Jawaharlal Nehru, you did not win their hearts and minds. You certainly did not win Muslim votes. Indian Muslims voted shrewdly, tactically and effectively against you in 2024. Consider it carved in stone they will never vote for you and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP).

Fifth, you underestimate your enemies. The opposition, thuggish, bereft of all scruples and decorum, will do anything — anything — to defeat you and obtain power. The English media in India follows the country’s strange brand of secularism that has a romantic view of sharia. This scotch-drinking elite is happy for Muslims to marry four times and, together with their friends and family members in academia, wants the BJP out of power. The same holds true for Bollywood and left-leaning non-governmental organizations (NGOs).

Sixth, the Indian Administrative Service (IAS), more appositely known as the Indian Arrogant Service, is India’s deep state and is implacably opposed to you. IAS officers have come through an examination system designed by the Congress Party’s left-leaning ideologues. For their entire careers, they have benefited from rent-seeking by embodying a still-colonial state. They do not want any change. You have succumbed to their flattery and are surrounded by an IAS mafia that does not allow anyone access to your presence. Hindu organizations and devout Hindus have little standing in your administration, but IAS officers who were communists during their St. Stephen’s College days can get things done in hours, if not minutes, by calling IAS officers who work in the Prime Minister’s Office.

Seventh, the international ecosystem of the Left is your mortal enemy. For them, you are the butcher of Gujarat who slaughtered thousands in 2002. The American press calls a “Hindu supremacist” and “Hindu fascist.” For them, you are an Indian version of Adolf Hitler or Benito Mussolini. Yet you crave approval from this ecosystem and ignore your supporters. 

Eighth, centuries of colonization have made Hindus indifferent to their long-term civilizational interests. Extracting all the salt from the earth’s oceans is an easier task than awakening the fractious, argumentative and chronically ineffective Hindus. Under your prime ministership, we had a shot, but you have blown that opportunity most spectacularly. If and when voters turn to the opposition, it’s highly unlikely your party will ever return to power. EVER. Then it’s over for India and her Hindus.

The pathetic state of Hindus

Allow me to dwell on the division and weakness of Hindus here for a moment. And no, this is not some fake, doomsday, clickbait claim, but rather extrapolated from the views of two of India’s greatest leaders: Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi and Bhimrao Ramji Ambedkar. The first is credited (falsely) with winning our independence, and the second is credited (rightly) with being the chief architect of our constitution. Love them or loathe them, but dismiss their views at your peril, Mr. Narendra Modi.

Gandhi said, “Hindus are cowards and Muslims bullies.” The venerable leader offered no solution to this conundrum. Gandhi suggested that Hindus could sacrifice their lives for the Muslims if they wanted to establish their rule over India. Gandhi did not believe in fighting back even during the darkest days of pre-Partition violence.

Ambedkar, who was no friend of Gandhi but his political and ideological adversary, was a bare-knuckled realist on Islam and Muslims. His views are as relevant today as then: “To the Muslims, a Hindu is a Kaffir. A Kaffir is not worthy of respect. He is low-born and without status. That is why a country which is ruled by a Kaffir is Dar-ul-Harb to a Musalman. Given this, no further evidence seems to be necessary to prove that the Muslims will not obey a Hindu government.” He commented on the “adoption by the Muslims of the gangster’s method in politics” and stated, “The fact remains that India, if not exclusively under Muslim rule, is a Dar-ul-Harb and the Musalmans according to the tenets of Islam are justified in proclaiming a jihad.”

That jihad is underway not only in Pakistan but also in India. The now-banned Popular Front of India (PFI) plans to make India Islamic by 2047. Authorities have seized PFI plans that include “creating a civil war-like situation” in India. They also uncovered “a short course on how to make improvised explosive devices (IEDs) using easily available materials” and pen drives containing videos related to the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS).

In India, few leaders have taken on the problem of Islam like their European counterparts. French President Emmanuel Macron has spoken against “Islamist separatism” and the dangers of Muslims forming a “counter-society” in France. Retired French generals have warned of “civil war” in the country.

Note that Muslims have marched in Germany demanding Sharia law. In the recent UK elections, Muslims organized themselves on exclusively Islamic issues through the pressure group “The Muslim Vote.” The BBC reported on a Labour candidate who faced “abuse and intimidation” from supporters of an independent Muslim candidate. Australia has also started experiencing “Islamic sectarianism.” Muslims self-separating in non-Muslim countries is inevitable given the Quranic command not to befriend Christians and Jews. We Hindus are much worse because we are not People of the Book, but idol-worshippers.

When the Muslims of India plan to make India by 2047, they are not trifling. World history records Islam’s consistent pattern of lethality towards non-Muslims. Shia Iran has targeted the peace-loving Baháís and Sunni Saudi Arabia still has no space for non-Sunni communities. In India, Muslims conducted ethnic cleansing of Hindus in Kashmir in the early 1990s.

That ethnic cleansing is a precursor to what many Muslims plan for the entire subcontinent. The PFI dreams of 2047, when political power is to return to the Muslim community from whom it was unjustly taken away by the British. It’s entirely in character, given that Muslims also dream of getting back Spain — most of which they have not held since the Middle Ages. The saying that Muslims never forget and Hindus never remember has an element of truth.

Alarming trends call for immediate action, Mr. Prime Minister

Al Jazeera, the flagship media organization funded by gas-rich Qatar, has emerged as the voice of the Muslim world. It reports, “Between 1951 and 2011, the Muslim population [of India] rose from 35.4 million to 172 million. The Hindu population rose from 303 million to 966 million in the same period.” That works out to a 391% increase in the Muslim population as compared to a 218% increase in the Hindu population. In short, the Muslim population increased at almost double the rate of Hindus for decades after independence.

Demography is destiny in a democracy. If Muslim populations increase, then politicians have to appeal to them. Obviously, some will promise sharia, as Muslims are calling for in Europe. We are facing a clash of civilizations as Samuel Huntington predicted after the collapse of the Berlin Wall.

Given the times of strife and struggle that lie ahead, we need a good successor to you, Mr. Prime Minister. I take the view that your successor must be Yogi Adityanath, the popular chief minister of Uttar Pradesh. Yogi, as this charismatic leader is known, is young (yes, age matters and you are now old, Mr. Modi), dynamic and strong. Yogi is the only political leader in India who has had the courage to shine the light on and condemn the atrocities against Hindus in Bangladesh. Just as you were the future once, Yogi is the future now, and you must give way.

As your parting gift to the nation, you must give Hindus administrative control over their temples. Most of my Western friends are shocked to learn that mosques and churches are autonomous and temples are not. Muslims and Christians have the right to run their religious establishments. However, the government controls Hindu temples and even runs them. The IAS lord it over Hindu places of worship but do not dare to intervene even if there is murder or rape in Muslim or Christian institutions. Similarly, Christians and Muslims have the right to run educational institutions whilst Hindus do not really have the same right. Mr. Narendra Modi, free the Hindus finally in their own land.

Mr. Prime Minister, you are a visionary and farsighted politician. So, get your act together and let’s see some bare-knuckled action. Borrow your friend Donald Trump’s phrase and say, “You’re fired,” to Home Minister Amit Shah and BJP party chief Jagat Prakash Nadda — they are both utterly incompetent, and you know it. 

Instead, make alliances, soothe bruised egos and bring back sulking Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) leaders. Once, you were a committed RSS worker. Today, you have abandoned the RSS for the IAS. Go back to your roots, Mr. Narendra Modi.

My advice is straightforward: Reduce ahankara; embrace tyāga; announce Yogi as your successor; give Hindus long-awaited religious freedom; fire your two cronies; return to your roots. If you do this and nothing else, history will remember you as the prime minister who successfully prevented India from falling to Islam yet again.

Will you listen and act?

Yours respectfully,

Dr. Sushil Kaul 

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Simple Lessons on Islam and Hindu Politics for Narendra Modi appeared first on Fair Observer.

The BJP-led National Democratic Alliance (NDA) has 293 seats. This is less than the BJP held alone in the previous Lok Sabha (303) and much less than the alliance as a whole did (353). Clearly, the BJP is now in a weaker position and Modi is not quite as powerful as before. He has been prime minister since 2014 and the undisputed top dog in Indian politics. Now, Modi’s top dog status is under threat.

There are four key reasons why the BJP has fallen short in these elections. First, the party ran a poor campaign which ignored key issues that concerned Indian voters. Second, candidate selection was poor, and the party over-relied on turncoats while ignoring popular local leaders. Third, Modi alienated core voter groups that are traditionally loyal to the BJP. These groups felt taken for granted and sat the election out. Lastly, Modi failed to sufficiently extend the party’s appeal to voter groups traditionally outside of the BJP.

Ultimately, all four factors come back to a first cause: Modi has attempted to run the BJP from the top down. Instead of balancing the concerns of leaders, members and voters in each state, Modi tried to campaign on a national brand that centered on his own personality and achievements. This presidential style played poorly in a party with a strong tradition of internal democracy and grassroots organization. Modi has filled his cabinet with career bureaucrats that only answer to him instead of politicians that have their own followings. Instead of mobilizing all the forces of the BJP — which is still by far the most powerful political force in the country — Modi’s small circle of apparatchiks isolated itself and lost a sense of what voters really wanted.

The last two months have demonstrated that the Modi-led BJP is running out of steam. Opposition leaders such as Indian National Congress (INC) chief Rahul Gandhi, Shashi Tharoor and Mahua Moitra have been hammering Modi and the BJP in the Lok Sabha. Because it lacks the votes in parliament, the government has had to withdraw key bills. However, the Modi government has still not learned its lesson and has no clear plan for the future. Furthermore, no feedback loop exists and Modi is increasingly out of touch with the new realities of Indian politics.

The BJP’s campaign was not only poor but also tone-deaf

In 2014 and 2019, the BJP successfully sold a positive message of growth and development that galvanized voters. This year, its messaging got bogged down in identity politics, focusing on irrelevant Hindu–Muslim culture war issues such as which meats people eat and what ornaments women wear on their wedding days. The BJP thus ignored more vital issues like economic distress and mishandled numerous entrance exams, alienating voters.

What issues do matter to Indians? It is an oft-cited law of elections that “it’s the economy, stupid!” The universality of this truth may be fairly doubted. Still, it holds true in most elections, and the 2024 Indian elections were no exception. In the years leading up to the election, India faced several economic setbacks.

In 2016, Modi announced his now-infamous demonetization scheme. The government pulled 500- and 1000-rupee banknotes from circulation. Modi hoped that removing large bills would hamper organized crime and force businesses to conduct exchanges electronically, thus preventing them from avoiding taxes. Instead, the move wreaked havoc on India’s vital informal sector and on small businesses that relied on cash. The scheme may have wiped out as much as 1% of India’s GDP and cost over 1.5 million jobs.

The demonetization fiasco is a great example of the growing out-of-touchness of the Modi administration. Had party leadership consulted more closely with small business leaders, it would have understood how vital the cash economy was for this vital sector. Instead, it arbitrarily rolled out a policy that decimated millions of small businesses around the country.

The Modi government deserves much credit for rolling out the much-needed goods and services tax (GST), which made India an economic union like the EU for the first time after independence in 1947. Yet it is also true that the government implemented the GST suddenly and arbitrarily (on July 1, 2017 — India’s financial year begins on April 1), giving no time for businesses to adapt and causing many small and medium enterprises (SMEs) to go bankrupt. As per the World Bank, “the multiple rate structure and an enforcement framework using onerous reporting requirements for businesses place[d] a huge compliance burden on businesses especially SMEs and [had] a negative impact on the economy.”

From 2020, India also struggled through the COVID-19 pandemic. Although India eventually succeeded in inoculating the majority of its population, the vaccine rollout was bumpy. Several nationwide lockdowns froze the economy for a total of 74 days, with additional lockdowns in many states. These lockdowns were arbitrary. Bureaucrats changed conditions every few hours, leading to nightmarish results for citizens and businesses.

Demonetization, GST and COVID shrank the economy. Businesses closed and unemployment soared. For example, the number of unincorporated enterprises fell from 63.3 million in 2016 to 5.03 million by the middle of 2021, only recovering to their previous levels in 2023. That meant over a hundred million lost jobs in that sector alone.

India currently faces an unemployment rate of 8%, and many economists believe the real figure is much higher. India’s population is growing, but the economy is not growing fast enough to employ millions of young people entering the job market every year. Also, growth is increasingly jobless, and fast growth alone may not solve the jobs problem.

In recent history, Indians have looked to the public sector for jobs. Under socialism, these jobs were prized. Although they make up only 5% of the job market, public jobs continue to hold symbolic value for struggling Indians. However, there is an acute lack of openings in the public sector and scarce jobs have resulted in sporadic protests by angry youth.

In an unpopular move, the government made military service temporary. Now, volunteers join for four years and only 25% of them will be retained. If they get wounded or killed, it is unclear whether their families will get pensions or benefits. This scheme has cost the BJP votes among castes and communities with a tradition of military service.

In India, huge numbers of applicants compete for a relatively tiny number of positions. Of course, this is often frustrating, but one can at least content oneself when the selection process is fair. Recently, however, a spate of leaks has compromised the integrity of civil service exams in many states. In February, hundreds of candidates appearing for these entrance exams protested in Lucknow. They had good reason to do so. Exam papers appeared on social media platforms before the government conducted the exams. The Uttar Pradesh (UP) state government was forced to cancel the examination and it has not been the only state to suffer this embarrassment. Between 2015 and 2023, nearly 70 incidents of paper leaks have taken place across India.

The BJP’s campaign neither addressed the exam leaks issue nor provided potential solutions. Indians understand that their young nation is emerging from poverty and that prosperity will not come easily. Yet they need to know that their government is aware of their needs and that it has a plan to address them. Instead, the BJP campaign ignored their concerns and focused on irrelevant culture war issues. Modi fearmongered about the opposition pandering to Muslim vote banks, claiming they intended to give public sector jobs slotted for members of poor Hindu castes away to Muslims. He baited voters with thinly veiled references to Muslims as “infiltrators.” This turned off an electorate that largely rejects religious antipathy and wants progress, not infighting.

In 2014 and 2019, the BJP ran smart campaigns that gave it an advantage over its opponents. It successfully leveraged Modi’s personal charisma, made effective use of social media and commanded a solid party organization. After ten years in power, the party seems to have lost its edge.

Modi’s charisma and his spirited campaigning did little to save candidates whom the party fielded with no consideration to their background and track record, especially in UP. Commentator Sanjeev Singh remarks that the BJP lost 10 to 15 of the state’s 80 Lok Sabha seats simply due to the massive unpopularity of its chosen candidates.

This time around, the opposition used social media more deftly than the BJP. The BJP merrily repeated the slogan “char sau paar” — “400 plus” — to indicate its high hopes for a blowout result. The opposition turned the slogan on its head and stirred voters to action by warning that, if the BJP won more than 400 seats, the party would change the constitution. The BJP top brass tried to reassure voters that they had no plans to do so, but the damage was done.

Finally, the party organization had grown lax compared to previous years. The widespread belief that Modi could win any election and complacency that “400 plus” was inevitable encouraged BJP voters to stay at home.

The BJP sidelined grassroots politicians in favor of bureaucrats and turncoats

The BJP has been a mass-based party that rose as the INC lost its mass base and turned into a dynastic fiefdom. Along with its parent organization, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the BJP is a cadre-based organization. Neither the RSS nor the BJP was designed to function as a one-man crew. Modi has fostered a personality cult within the BJP, and the party has not organized an internal election since 2014, the year Modi became prime minister. Party members complained that Modi and his number two, Home Minister Amit Shah, kept tight control over candidate selection. The system has ossified from the top down, and talent is not rising through the ranks.

Worse, Modi has surrounded himself with sycophants. Officers of the heaven-born Indian Administrative Service (IAS) in the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO) are more powerful than cabinet ministers.

Many ministers are ex-IAS officers like Ashwini Vaishnaw and could not win even a municipal election. Vaishnaw’s shambolic handling of Indian Railways, with tracks deteriorating and accidents increasing as service drops, has been an embarrassment. Vaishnaw has tried and failed to present an image of success by publicizing the premium Vande Bharat lines, which most of the population do not use. Voters sense that ministers like Vaishnaw are shallow social media phenomena and not representatives of a bona fide constituency. They declined to support more of Modi’s flash-in-the-pan, manufactured politicians at the polls. 

Modi even gave tickets to undeserving children of IAS officers like Nripendra Mishra whose son Saket Mishra lost a seat the BJP would have otherwise won. Modi has no children and has a reputation of abstaining from nepotism. However, he has allowed his ministers and bureaucrats to make nepotistic choices. Voters punished the BJP for nepotism.

Nothing just gormint servants touching feet of their "colleague" minister

Just like IPS used to do with Mayawati and Mulayam

Mr Vaishnaw being from urban educated civil services background should have reprimanded the first person who did this https://t.co/hwKshszgFR

— Comrade Muji (Muji ka Parivar) (@mujifren) June 11, 2024

In addition, the BJP has given tickets to turncoats from other parties. Kripashankar Singh went from heading the Mumbai unit of the INC to running for the BJP in Jaunpur, UP. Naturally, he lost the seat. In Maharashtra, Ajit Pawar split a faction of the Nationalist Congress Party (NCP), a party founded by his uncle Sharad Pawar, to join the NDA. The NCP contested four seats in Maharashtra and won only one. Voters found these Machiavellian alliances unconvincing because they had no ideological justification.

Meanwhile, the opposition lampooned Modi’s “washing machine” in which corrupt politicians were forgiven in exchange for their loyalty.

Not only did Modi stuff the party with nonentities who do not command the loyalty of the rank-and-file, but he pushed popular local leaders out. Rumor has it that Modi and Shah have been gunning for Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath, who is charismatic and popular. Apparently, Adityanath sent a list of 35 candidates to the BJP national leadership, but not one of them got a ticket for any of UP’s 80 Lok Sabha seats.

As a result, many BJP workers and RSS members refused to campaign, and many loyal BJP supporters declined to vote. Why should they work for spineless turncoats while their own leaders sit on the sidelines?

Modi’s shrinking inner circle is out of touch with up-and-coming talent. Indeed, it feels threatened by young blood. So, instead of making organic promotions from within, Modi and company cobbled together a motley crew of administrators, relatives and turncoats. Needless to say, they inspired nobody.

The BJP alienated core party followers and RSS members

Poor messaging and faulty candidate selection are tactical errors. But the rot runs to the strategic level as well. Simply put, the Modi cabinet has become so out of touch that they have forgotten who actually votes for their party. The end result: the BJP alienated the individuals, castes and movements that form the core of its voter base.

We have already described how the BJP alienated party workers by sidelining local leaders. It bears noting that this was no mere blunder, but a symptom of something deeply wrong within Modi’s approach. Traditionally, the BJP is a grassroots party. In each state, local leaders command the loyalty of sections of the populace that have a long-standing relationship with the party and trust them to promote their interests. The party has a culture of local democracy, unlike the INC, which is always led monarchically by a scion of the Nehru–Gandhi dynasty. Modi attempted to graft a leader-centric style of politics onto the BJP and run it from the top-down. He thought that he could build a platform on national issues and ignore sectional interests. Thus, core constituencies felt ignored. They punished Modi by staying home on election day.

Hindi-speaking forward castes — particularly Brahmins, Rajputs and Banias — make up the backbone of this Hindu nationalist party. These affluent castes support a disproportionate amount of India’s tax burden. (Just 1–2% of India’s population pays income taxes.) Modi’s administration has raised taxes in order to pay for its ambitious infrastructure development projects and welfare schemes. The bureaucrats who make these decisions are not politicians and thus feel no pressure to please their constituents. Forward caste voters thus feel that their loyalty is being punished as Modi robs Peter to pay Paul. They send their children to private schools and make use of private healthcare. Why should they supply Modi with funds and votes in return for nothing?

The Modi administration has alienated Rajputs in particular. This caste was once the warrior aristocracy of central and northern India. Although they number just 12 million, they are a key BJP constituency and have been loyal to the party since its inception. Rajputs resented Modi’s sidelining of Adityanath, who belongs to their caste. To make matters worse, in March, Parshottam Rupala, a member of Modi’s cabinet, gratuitously insulted Rajputs by insinuating that they broke bread with the British colonizers.

Rajputs still retain their old aristocratic disdain for businessmen and look with diffidence upon Modi, Shah and Rupala, who hail from the mercantile, coastal state of Gujarat. They feel no loyalty for a Gujarati party elite that disrespects them and treats them, not as constituents, but as footsoldiers who will vote for whom they are told. So, Rajputs in key BJP stronghold states like Rajasthan, Haryana and above all Uttar Pradesh sat the vote out.

Another key constituency is the RSS. The RSS, whose name translates to National Volunteer Organisation, is the source from which the BJP sprung. This Hindu nationalist organization originally founded the BJP and still largely defines its ideological makeup.

The RSS is a truly popular movement. It boasts millions of members, among whom the most dedicated are the pracharaks, unmarried young men who dedicate their lives to the organization to win hearts and minds by preaching, demonstrating and organizing social relief programs. The RSS distributes food to the poor, help build homes and participate in disaster relief. During the COVID-19 pandemic, they distributed masks and hand soap. These efforts have won them widespread popularity. Often accused of being Hindu fascists — since, at their founding in 1925, they modeled themselves on Italian dictator Benito Mussolini’s Blackshirts — the RSS is in many ways more like the Boy Scouts or the Knights of Columbus. They are the BJP’s backbone and spiritual heart.

Notably, the RSS headquarters is not in Delhi but in Nagpur, Maharashtra. The RSS has an independent power base that must be respected but the BJP forgot this  basic point. The Modi administration has distanced itself from the RSS. Jagat Prakash Nadda, Modi’s appointee as BJP president, virtually declared the BJP independent from the RSS in a May 2024 interview. This statement alienated millions of traditional RSS/BJP workers.

Note that Nadda is himself a sycophant with no significant popular base. Once again, one of Modi’s out-of-touch cronies was speaking to the cameras, not to the people. Distancing the party from a controversial right-wing organization may sound good to the Westernized English-speaking press, but it betrayed an utter lack of understanding of the sentiments of the average BJP voter.

Modi had hoped to earn the gratitude of conservative Hindus by constructing the Ram Mandir, a Hindu temple in Ayodhya, UP. In 1992, Hindu rioters destroyed a mosque supposedly built atop a demolished temple during the reign of Mughal Emperor Babur. The temple’s construction was expensive and annoyed residents of the sacred city. Too many people lost their homes and did not get adequate compensation. Modi’s favorite bureaucrat. Nripendra Mishra, the notorious IAS father of the earlier-mentioned Saket Mishra, was in charge of building the Ram temple and did a truly awful job. 

Modi insulted Hindu organizations like the Vishva Hindu Parishad and Bajrang Dal by telling them not to attend the inauguration of the Ram temple. He invited film star Amitabh Bachchan, whose wife is an opposition MP, to the ceremony but ignored Lal Krishna Advani, the prime mover of the temple construction movement and his political godfather. Many traditional BJP voters were disgusted by Modi’s behavior.

The BJP also estranged ideologically friendly parties in various states. In Maharashtra, the BJP’s unnecessary schism with the local Hindi nationalist Shiv Sena cost the party dearly. In Tamil Nadu, the religiously oriented AIADMK is a natural ally and ran as part of the NDA in 2014 and 2019. In 2024, the BJP decided to go it alone. BJP state president Kuppuswamy Annamalai exacerbated the split with antagonistic comments against the AIADMK. The BJP took just 11% of the vote, the AIADMK 20%, and neither won a single seat with the opposition sweeping all 39 constituencies.

Modi forgot to keep main supporters and key allies happy. He acted like the BJP was his personal fiefdom. Modi assumed that party members and workers, Rajputs, Brahmins, Banias, Hindu groups and the RSS would vote for him automatically. In a nutshell, Modi forgot that he was the head of the BJP, not the INC.

The BJP underperformed among poor castes

Modi failed to heed his own party because he was trying to expand beyond his traditional base and attract a wider set of voters — the poor. He thought he could gain a voter base so wide that no particular interest group inside or outside the party would have any sway over him.

Yet Modi was not successful. Of course, some of the poor did vote for him; it is impossible to win an election in India without at least some of the poor. Yet Modi did not win the poor over in nearly the numbers he had hoped. Why?

The most basic reason is that, to attempt to reach out to the poor as a voter base, the BJP attempted to play a game that everyone else was already playing. The BJP’s traditional middle- and upper-class voter base knows why it votes for the BJP. They are invested in the part. But why should the poor vote for the BJP? Modi offers a dole of grain or rice, free cooking gas, new bank accounts, maybe even cash transfers. Who cares if Rahul Gandhi offers even more?

It is true that Modi has built infrastructure at record pace. It is also true that Infrastructure projects are impressive and will pay dividends for decades down the line. Modi’s government presided over unprecedented economic growth. Yet unemployment is still very high. To the unemployed, growth is just a number in the newspaper or, worse, the reason prices are rising.

So, neither welfare nor development have won over the poor. Token reforms do not win elections — especially not when those reforms are paid for by squeezing the traditional party base.

“Is that the thanks I get for feeding you and treating you so well?” complained the Shepherd.

“Do not expect us to join your flock,” replied one of the Wild Goats. “We know how you would treat us later on, if some strangers should come as we did.”

— Aesop

Populism is not a game the BJP was built to win.

For all its Sanatan socialism, the BJP also performed poorly with poor populations, especially Muslims and Dalits. India’s Muslim community is largely poor, and many of them benefited greatly from Modi’s infrastructure development and poverty alleviation projects. Further, Modi banned instant divorce, a deeply unfair traditional practice that allowed Muslim men to abandon their wives simply by uttering the word “divorce” three times. He has made the lives of poor Muslims, especially women, considerably better. Yet he has not reaped political support in return.

Instead, Muslims perceive the Hindu nationalist BJP as anti-Muslim. The Citizenship (Amendment) Act, which grants a fast track to citizenship only to non-Muslim refugees from Afghanistan, Bangladesh and Pakistan, reinforced this perception. And in the lead-up to the election, Modi did himself no favors. He indulged in rhetoric that made Muslims appear threatening. And of course, though the Ram Mandir affair underwhelmed Hindus, Modi’s construction of a Hindu temple on confiscated mosque grounds infuriated Muslims, who then voted en masse against the BJP.

Modi also lost the sizable Dalit constituency. Prior to Independence, Dalits occupied the lowest rank in India’s caste system, performing menial labor. India’s constitution abolished the caste system and established an affirmative action system wherein Dalits would fill reserved positions in the bureaucracy and educational institutions. The INC circulated a rumor that the BJP planned to do away with these reservations if it got enough seats in parliament to amend the constitution. Dalit voters responded in droves and rejected the BJP.

It did not make sense for the BJP to abandon Dalit reservation. That would have meant political suicide and few, if any, parties would engage in such an act. Yet the rumor stuck. This shows the extent of the disconnect between the BJP and the poorest of the poor.

In Uttar Pradesh, Muslims and Dalits joined together with Yadavs to back the dynastic left-wing Samajwadi Party and the INC. Together, they gained 37 seats. The BJP hemorrhaged 29. Note that Uttar Pradesh is by far India’s most populous state and commands 80 out of 543 seats in the Lok Sabha. It is a miracle that the BJP is still governing without winning in the state. Next time, the party may not be so lucky.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post The Truth About Narendra Modi’s Unexpected Electoral Flop appeared first on Fair Observer.

The inception of Chandigarh began with the trauma of partition of the country in 1947 and the urgent need to build a new capital city for the now truncated state of Punjab apportioned to the Indian side, as well as the pressing need to shelter millions of homeless refugees. Besides the great healing touch that Chandigarh imparted to the traumatised refugees by accommodating them in the new city and giving shelter, its aesthetic landscape perhaps too played a soothing role with its mantle of greenery clothing its built form of brick and concrete.

Before one delves deeper into Chandigarh’s landscaping, it is essential to address the question as to what landscape really is? Whenever we experience a building in an urban setting, there is either a foreground or a background comprising some component of vegetation or built-form. So cities are experienced in motion as one continuum of images: both built-up and landscapes. This underscores how critical is the role of nature in cities for a holistic and humane experience of urban areas.

In the Indian tradition knowledge was always transmitted by the guru/teacher to the disciple beneath a tree as was the occurrence of spiritual enlightenment. Trees were always planted around temples and worshipped, signifying their importance. In the medieval times in the walled cities of India, because of the fear of invaders, the built-form grain was very dense with winding narrow alleys and self-shading courtyards. The community focal point called chaupal usually had some big tree or a grove of shade giving sacred trees like banyans or peepuls where people congregated. As the structures were small and low, people could easily connect with the elements of nature and cosmos with everyday use of roof terraces and courtyards. So there was always a connection with the elements of nature and an experience of surrounding distant landscape, unlike in the present clutter of high-rise, densely spaced blocks in the cities mushrooming all over the country.

When the Mughals came they brought to India the great tradition of ‘Formal Gardens’ that basically originated from the Persian Gardens with their core elements of symmetry, the quadrant charbagh and use of water for cooling. Le Corbusier often visited the nearby Mughal Gardens at Pinjore located close to Chandigarh to observe and sketch copiously for possible solutions to deal with the challenge of climatic issues for his proposed buildings. With the advent of the British Raj in India about 200 years ago, it was decided to use the tools of architecture and landscape to make a political statement of imperial assertion. The grand Central Vista at New Delhi between the Viceroy’s Palace (Rashtrapati Bhawan) placed atop the Raisina hill and India Gate is a grandiose, monumental language of landscape. The British civil lines and army cantonments spread all over the country located outside the old, native cities too had Edwin Lutyens’ kind of layouts with beautiful, neat tree-lined avenues, gardens and parks.

When the Chandigarh project came up, the ruling elites of the post- Independence India steeped in the hierarchal social structure inherited from the British, too wanted to get away from the unhygienic narrow alleys of the old, traditional cities. The old bazaars might have been very picturesque and exotic for the visitors with their aromas and colours, but if one wanted to live there it was not all that romantic for the haves and neo-rich of the country. When A.L. Fletcher, an important bureaucrat tasked with the preparation of the brief for the new city for the future architect, began his work, there were a lot of uncertainties. Basic questions like a city for how many people, what should be the budget, etc., needed to be addressed. What will be the nature of the city: administrative, commercial or mixed? Fletcher, who was widely travelled and familiar with the Garden City movement in Britain was very impressed by the Ebenezer Howard’s concept for green towns. Though such experimental towns in Britain were much smaller settlements as an inspirational model for the Chandigarh project, it was nevertheless decided that Chandigarh should have the core attributes of a Garden City. Dr M.S. Randhawa, a distinguished senior bureaucrat and a qualified agricultural scientist at that time, too, had an enormous contribution in the landscaping for the city. He exhorted that the new city would urgently require a ‘mantle of greenery’, as the buildings in the city would come up much faster than the time taken by plantations to take root.

The original team of American architects and planners comprising Albert Mayer and Mathew Nowicki who were initially assigned the Chandigarh project had to be soon replaced by Le Corbusier, owing to the tragic death of Nowicki in a plane crash and Mayer’s inability to continue in his absence. However, the Americans too had shown a strong predilection for weaving in a lot of landscaping components in their conceptual master plan proposed for the city. Many of the seed ideas underlined by them in this regard, became precursors of what Corbusier too developed later on, including the alignment of the city plan towards the mountains.

During Corbusier’s training in an art school in his home town La Chaux-de-Fonds, Switzerland, his brilliant and inspiring teacher Charles L’Eplattenier, made the students go out to the mountains to vigorously sketch pine trees there. They left a great mark on him as he used them as motifs in his early residential projects as kind of modern decoration on their edifices. He was always collecting a repertoire of possible ideas and forms from his observations of nature for future application, and the pine tree became one of those motifs. So his training as a landscape painter influenced him towards establishing a special relationship between landscape and architecture.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Le Corbusier Rediscovered: Chandigarh And Beyond, edited by Rajnish Wattas and Deepika Gandhi, Niyogi Books, 2018.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

The post Le Corbusier Rediscovered: Chandigarh And Beyond appeared first on Fair Observer.

Her grief into joy. 

Her rejections into approvals. 

If no one believes in her 

It does not matter. 

She believes in herself. 

Nothing stops her. 

No one can touch her. 

She is woman

Sita, born of the earth, raised among sages, the non-uterine daughter of King Janak of Mithila, devoted wife of Lord Ram, and single mother of twins Kush and Luv, is the central female character of the Hindu epic Ramayana. Sita, as an integral part of the Indian psyche, has been venerated by Valmiki in the first chapter itself,

Sita, the best one among ladies, a possessor of all best qualities befitting an ideal lady, the one who is as though fashioned by a divine marvel, born in Janak’s fany and became Dashrath’s daughter-in-law and she who is the loving wife and an ever-amiable alter ego of Ram, even she followed Ram to forests, as with Lady Rohini following the Moon… 

A paragon of beauty, intellect, dedication, and sacrifice, Sita, the ideal woman, struggled with maintaining her dignity, her identity, and her rightful place in a patriarchal society. Worshipped throughout India, she is considered a symbol of chastity, the wife who stayed unwavering in her devotion and loyalty towards her husband Ram, like Ruth who, swearing eternal fidelity to her husband, said, ‘Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God my God.”

It is believed that Sita’s birth preordained the elimination of evil forces, and that she was the link between the opposing forces of righteousness and evil, symbolised by Ram and Ravan respectively. Her sense of dharma or duty was superior to that of her husband, the most perfect of men, the maryada purush Ram, who sacrificed his conjugal life at the altar of ‘higher’ duties, first to fulfill the expectations of him as a son, and subsequently, that as a king. Sita’s devotion and love for Ram, her firmness of purpose in upholding the truth, even at the cost of her own life, are all put to the test. Ram, her beloved husband, publicly declares that he rescued her to save his own honour, and Sita is made to prove her chastity multiple times. She passes each test and wins hands down, like the devotee who triumphs over the god he worships.

Fiercely independent, Sita dared to challenge social norms and break loose from the shackles of patriarchy, while making her own choices with courage and dignity. She did not allow her life situation to choose for her, nor did she let the abuse dishearten her. Finding strength in the knowledge of her own uniqueness—self-confident, self-disciplined, and selfless—she chose to uphold her self-respect, thereby exemplifying the power of womankind. Sita’s offer of agnipariksha (after the battle) was not an act of self-annihilation, nor that of surrendering to the whim of an unreasonable husband. On the contrary, her emerging from the fire unscathed was proof of her defiance in challenging her husband’s aspersions, showing him to be so flawed in his judgement that the gods had to come and pull up Ram for his foolishness. When a pregnant Sita was abandoned deceitfully in the cruelest manner, placing her and her unborn child’s life in jeopardy, she demonstrated to the world that it was possible for an abandoned single mother to not only survive, but successfully raise two outstanding and fearless sons. Sita loved her husband wholeheartedly, and sacrificed a life of luxury to be exiled with him in the forest; but when her honour was repeatedly doubted by her beloved for what he considered his kingly duty, she chose with supreme dignity to reject her husband and return to Mother Earth. Rightfully so, people perceive Sita’s steadfastness as a sign of emotional strength, because she refused to forsake her dharma in upholding the truth, even though Ram forsook his dharma as a responsible husband.

Often underplayed is the fact that Sita had a mind of her own; she stood her ground and remained determined not to give up even if the odds looked daunting. She even went to the extent of rebuking her husband that he was not man enough to take his wife along into exile. During their exile in the forest, Sita envisaged the danger in Ram’s decision to eliminate the rakshasas of Dandaka forest without any provocation, and felt it was her role as a wife to remind the maryada purush of his dharma when she perceived he was straying from the path of righteousness.

Delivering a powerful discourse on non-violence, she reminds Ram that duty always pairs with privilege, and since he had renounced his Kshatriya powers, he should avoid involving himself in activities that run contrary to forest life and its norms Sita, not one to be cowed down, proudly proclaimed that since she was Janak’s daughter and Ram’s wife, she could not refrain from free speech on observing dharma retreating. Graciously Ram responded to her words of caution and said ‘Oh, graceful Sita, you are the co-pursuer in dharma with me, hence you are loftier to me than my own life…’ When Hanuman had come to Lanka searching for her, she could have easily made her escape. But, not wanting to steal her husband’s glory, she chose to wait for Ram to rescue her from Ravan’s captivity. When Ram wanted her to testify to her own innocence for the second time, instead of complying, Sita prayed to Mother Earth to take her into her recourse

Sita epitomizes the struggle of women throughout the world.

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from Sita Returns: Modern India Through Her Eyes, Charu Walikhanna, Niyogi Books, 2018.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

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