14 Mar 2014 | India, News and features, Religion and Culture
“The book, which is out of stock with us, shall not be reissued until the concerns are addressed for an acceptable resolution of the whole matter,”- says a 10 March statement from Aleph Book Company, publisher of Wendy Doniger’s “On Hinduism”.
A panel of four independent scholars will review the book, and then parley on equal terms with Dina Nath Batra, the same person who vanquished Doniger’s previous book “The Hindus: An Alternative History”.
Aleph’s optimism about some amicable solution is misplaced. Emboldened by Penguin India’s surrender the first time round, Dina Nath Batra’s second onslaught was more strident, and if examined critically, his claims, more preposterous. And nothing in his conduct permits one to hazard a guess about ceding even an inch of territory.
The legal notice slapped by Batra is a bullying rag, littered with random phrases and sentences which cannot be strung together by any stretch of logic. Parsing it, one gets to know how hurtful and offensive the “sexual thrust” of Doniger’s “titillating sexual tapestry” is. In her book which Aleph hails as a “magisterial volume”, a “scholarship of the highest order, and a compelling analysis of one of the world’s great faiths”, Doniger talks about Brahmin men’s monopolisation of Sanskrit, their oppression of women and Dalits (Untouchables), and a religious philosopher’s exhortation to overthrow the caste system and shatter the taboo against beef consumption. Then there is this limerick, whose truth many Indians would grudgingly testify to:
A Hindu who didn’t like kama
Refused to take off his pajama,
When his bride’s lustful finger
Reached out for his linga
He jumped up and ran home to Mama.
Batra and his acolytes’ litany of complaints can go on, and one can continue harping on Hinduism’s inherently pluralistic and tolerant character. But, now the crux of the problem is something different. The bigoted Hindus claim they are “law-abiding citizens” and have only sought to enforce the protection provided by the law, and even Penguin tried to hide behind the charade of “we respect the law of the land”. Which should naturally lead one to inquire -– what do the legal provisions say, and how have the courts interpreted them over the years?
Censorship mavens as “Law-abiding citizens”? Not really.
At first blush, it might seem that Sections 295A, 298, and 153A of the Indian Penal Code demonstrate excessive solicitude for hurt religious sentiments, shut out any independent critical inquiry and punish satire. However, “deliberate and malicious acts intended to outrage” remains an essential ingredient, and this remains the pivot on which freedom of expression rests. Agreed that Doniger’s telling of the scriptures does employ biting satire, and some of her statements are indeed tongue-in-cheek. Because she challenges the hegemonic interpretation of the self-appointed custodians of the faith, they accuse her of gratuitous provocation and making scurrilous statements.
Fortunately, the law takes a different view, and quite assertively so. Indian courts have a long tradition of protecting and upholding the right to express contrarian views on religion and the scriptures.
In 1924, a pamphlet titled Rangeela (“colourful”, in Hindi) Rasul, claiming to describe the real events of Prophet Mohammed’s life did the rounds in pre-Partition Punjab. Muslims were livid, a communal conflagration seemed imminent, but the Punjab High Court upheld the writer’s right to freedom of expression. Section 153-A, the court held, was intended to prevent riotous attacks against members of a particular religious community, and not to bar polemics, even if the remarks were undoubtedly satirical and scurrilous.
When in 2001 the government proscribed posters depicting the Ram Katha (an alternative narrative of the Ramayana) in the Buddhist and Jain traditions, the Delhi High Court put its foot down on not allowing free speech to be trampled by insular bigotry. Regarding the use of stray passages to demand censorship, the Delhi High Court’s 2001 judgement is illuminating. A single phrase — “that militant Ram used to stoke Hindu Muslim hatred in India today” from a documentary on the Ramayana was picked on by the censors. Not only did the court provide a judicial shield to diversity of interpretations, it asserted that random passages are insufficient to justify restrictions on free speech. Any restriction must be justified “on the anvil of necessity and not on the quicksand of convenience or expediency,” or on the unsubstantiated apprehensions of communal violence.
It would be partially speculative to single out all the real or purported reasons for Penguin’s surrender. But to exonerate bigots on the basis of their disingenuous claim of adhering to the law would set a pernicious precedent, paving the way for more books to be “pulped” and authors to be silenced.
This article was published on 14 March 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
13 Mar 2014 | India, News and features, Pakistan
Improbable as it may seem, but 67 Kashmiri university students were briefly charged with sedition for cheering for Pakistan, and celebrating its win over India, during an Asia Cup cricket match in early March.
Sections of the Indian Penal Code that they were charged under were the following:
Section 124a – “Whoever by words, either spoken or written, or by signs, or by visible representation, or otherwise, brings or attempts to bring into hatred or contempt, or excites or attempts to excite disaffection towards the Government established by law..”
Section 153 – “Whoever malignantly, or wantonly by doing anything which is illegal, gives provocation to any person intending or knowing it to be likely that such provocation will cause the offence of rioting to be committed shall..”
Section 427 – “Whoever commits mischief and thereby causes loss or damage to the amount of fifty rupees or upwards..”
The students were watching the match in Meerut, at the Swami Vivekanand Subharti University when the ruckus started. According to conflicting reports, the hooting of the Kashmiri students at Pakistan’s win caused those supporting India to chase them and throw stones at their rooms. The Kashmiri students protested the next day, but the university officials suspended them for three days as “resentment was growing in other hostels because of their behavior.” The police charged them under the Indian Penal Code. After a public outcry, the Uttar Pradesh police dropped the charges, however, there is a battle of words between the police and university officials as to who initiated the charges against the students.
The incident, once again, has exposed the fragile faultlines between Kashmir and India – and the perceived disloyalty of the Kashmiri Muslims to India. The controversy has brought about some harsh reactions, including a tweet by famous lyricist Javed Akhtar that said – “Why the suspension of those 67 Kashmiri students who cheered Pakistan is revoked. They should be rusticated and sent back to Kashmir.” Others, like Shivam Vij, took a more nuanced position, stating that, “not taking action against them would have escalated the violence at the university and in the city. The Indian students at the university were responding with the same sentiment that makes Kashmiri Muslims suspect their Hindu minority: the sentiment of nationalism. How acceptable would it be to a Pakistani if some in Pakistan openly and publicly cheered for the Indian cricket team in a match against Pakistan?”
Tidbits from Kashmir also help cement this view of the Muslims from the Kashmir Valley to the rest of India. Reports that firecrackers celebrated Pakistan’s win all night, and that a skirmish between Indian army personnel and local Kashmir youth celebrating the results of the match ended in a stabbing. There have also been defiant editorials from Pakistan countering the action against the students, declaring that, “it is not the win of Pakistan but the loss of India against any cricket playing nation that revives interest for cricket in Kashmir. India’s loss is a temporary relief from all the melancholy and grief that the people of Kashmir go through on a daily basis, inflicted by the Indian state and its military architecture.”
While this incident in question might have, on the surface, been about cricket and extremely ungentlemanly behavior, very quickly it seemed to have translated into politics as usual. A outcry about serious charges against university students – Kashmiris who had travelled far from home to obtain an Indian degree – was raised by many Indians in the media, by the Chief Minister of Jammu and Kashmir, and international groups. Many of these students were in Meerut given under the PMSSS, or the Prime Minister’s Special Scholarship Scheme, meant to enhance job opportunities for Kashmiri youth, meant mainly for low-income families. This is part of a larger drive to assimilate Kashmiri youth into the mainstream economic and educational life of India.
Indian Express’s Shekhar Gupta lamented the controversy given cricket’s globalized nature where it is increasingly normal to cheer for favourite player from another country. Instead he feels that “India’s majority has a minority complex” and this is coming to the fore “when the BJP is surging ahead, and not because of any mandir, tension with Pakistan, or rash of terror attacks. And when, in fairness, you have to acknowledge that there isn’t even a vaguely communal appeal in its leader Narendra Modi’s campaign message. India has had a 13-year period of total peace, unprecedented in its independent history. There has been a steep decline in terror incidents. Even the Maoists seem to be shrinking slowly. And yet, our level of jingoism is as if we were approaching an imminent war, as if India were under siege, its borders getting violated with impunity, the enemy at the gates.” Many echo Gupta’s view, fearing that those who believe the BJP under Narendra Modi will form government after the elections in April 2014, might be quick to adopt the jingoistic Hindu nationalism the party was based on.
Adding a layer to this incident is an interesting point of view offered by journalist Prayaag Akbar who writes about India’s many Muslims who feel affinity towards Pakistani cricket team, but are rarely called out for it, unlike the Kashmiri Muslims. He writes – “that some Indian Muslims, not just Kashmiris, support Pakistan during cricket matches must be acknowledged. But categorisation is self-fulfilling, some will say, and sport excites tribalism. It does not immediately follow—and this seems to be the consideration at the crux of the issue—that they will support Pakistan in a war against India. Yet it does not immediately follow that they will not, either. No one on either side of the debate can assert their position with complete confidence. What we can say with certainty is there has been a failure of assimilation, that has in part been caused by a rarely acknowledged, yet generally accepted, narrowed definition of what it means to be Indian.”
Cricket, criticisms and cartoons cannot be simply deemed seditious by the Uttar Pradesh police because they are problematic. And, ironically, this is in the shadow of the largest democratic exercise in the world, the Indian elections, a month away.
This article was published on March 13, 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
5 Mar 2014 | India, News and features, Politics and Society
In 1993 Nancy Adajania, a 21-year-old student, published an article titled Myth and Supermyth. In it she explored the way in which newly formed nations often fostered a sense of identity by converting their historical figures into national icons. Her article provoked angry protests across the state of Maharashtra, India’s financial hub, where she was charged and arrested for insulting the memory of Shivaji, a 17 century king revered in the state as a Hindu hero. Justice Saldanha considered Adajania’s bail application and said in his judgment: values from “the dark ages” must not be allowed to “turn the clock backwards” on freedom of expression.
And yet the clock has been turned back, and this became clear once again last month when Penguin India agreed to withdraw and destroy all copies of The Hindus, a monograph by the Sanskritist Wendy Doniger. The publishers pulped the book after a four-year legal battle with the Shiksha Bachao Andolan (Save Education Movement), a fundamentalist Hindu outfit that complained the book “insulted” their religion.
In a statement released after the out-of-court settlement Penguin condemned India’s criminal laws, which it said undermined free expression. In no legal system is freedom of speech an absolute, unqualified right. Liberal jurisdictions do, however, recognise that free expression is integral to a free society, and ensure that any qualifications to the right are limited. In India the right to free speech is enshrined in Article 19 of the Constitution, but it is immediately and extensively qualified by Article 19(2) which gives the state licence to impose “reasonable restrictions” – a broad power justifying curtailments based on vague notions such as “morality” and “decency”.
The state and private petitioners have equally exploited India’s penal code to harass, censor or silence individuals. Beyond religion and folk history, politicians and big business have used criminal proceedings to muzzle activists, social workers and political commentators. In 2012 Aseem Trivedi, a satirical cartoonist, was charged with sedition – a crime against the state – for publishing cartoons criticising official corruption. Arundhati Roy, the author and essayist, was similarly threatened with sedition charges for publicly speaking in favour of the Kashmiri right to self-determination. The silencing of personal opinion now also extends to social media. In 2012 a 21-year-old was arrested for hurting religious sentiments after she criticised the decision by authorities to shutdown Mumbai to mark the death of a controversial local politician.
As Faisal Devji, a historian at the University of Oxford, notes, the agents of censorship in India have changed. The colonial-era penal code served the repressive functions of the Raj, but the state has long since been replaced by hard-line extremist groups. For many this shift occurred in 1988 when Rajiv Gandhi, a former Prime Minister, bowed down to pressure from Muslim fundamentalists and banned imports of Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses.
In the 2014 World Press Freedom Index, Reporters without Borders ranked India 140 out of 180 countries. India’s denial of free speech in Kashmir and other insurgency-inflicted areas is well established. In its report Reporters with Borders go further, noting journalists are “abandoned by the judicial system” and subjected to “threats and physical violence”, forcing themselves to self-censor. Security forces, criminal groups, demonstrators and members of political organisations are all implicated, the report goes on, in the erosion of freedom of speech.
The state has consistently failed in its duty to safeguard the right to free speech, and increasingly stands back to allow extremists to trample on it. As well as opportunistic politicians the courts, as Ramachandra Guha a prominent Indian historian explains, are also to blame. Before M.F. Husain, India’s most celebrated painter, fled India in self-imposed exile, courts across the country entertained spurious cases filed against him from angry Hindus offended by the artist’s portrayal of Indian gods.
Last year Salman Rushdie described the deterioration of free expression in India as a “cultural emergency”. The extent of this emergency was made shockingly clear when Hoot, a media watchdog, published its annual Free Speech report. In 2013 alone eight journalists were killed, 99 counts of official censorship were recorded and India’s surveillance infrastructure grew to include the Central Monitoring System, National Intelligence Grid and ad hoc interceptions of electronic communications.
Free speech in India is under attack on two fronts: top-down state censorship has been matched by the bottom-up moral policing of ad hoc fundamentalist groups. As Pranab Bhanu Mehta, a leading commentator, warns, “If the state gives taking offence such aid and succour, offence will be easily taken.” Indeed, the clock is at risk of being turned back much further. Emboldened by its victory the Shiksha Bachao Andolan is now determined to see Doniger’s other works destroyed. As Dinanath Batra, the organisation’s octogenarian leader said during a recent interview, “Freedom of expression cannot trample our identity, culture, religion and tradition. We cannot allow anti-national writings.”
This article was published on March 5, 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
20 Feb 2014 | Asia and Pacific, India, News and features
(Image: Lok Sabha TV)
India’s lower house of parliament – the Lok Sabha – though capable of witnessing introspective and impressive debates, is often in the news because of the bawdy and boisterous behaviour of its elected members. Obstructionist behaviour – unacceptable in streets, schools and other workplaces – is employed to register protest, all under the watchful eye of Lok Sabha TV – a government channel dedicated to broadcasting the proceedings. The transmission is used by private TV channels, to report on important debates of the day, but most often to highlight “unparliamentary” behaviour.
Only last week, a member of parliament from Vijaywada, Andhra Pradesh used, not logic or reason, but pepper spray on fellow parliamentarians to protest the tabling of the “Andhra Pradesh Reorganisational Bill”. Just five days later, on 18 February, the same bill was tabled in parliament amidst much uproar, and the house was adjourned three times due to disruptions. Then, around 3:18pm, the bill was tabled on the floor of the house, but the live proceedings that usually accompany it were “blacked out”. The government called it a “technical error” while the leader of opposition in the lower house, Sushma Swaraj of the BJP, called it a “tactical error”. Thus, for the first time in its history, the lower house of Indian parliament passed a law as important as creating a new state – by reorganising Andhra Pradesh into two states; Andhra Pradesh and Telangana – away from the media glare and the public eye. The upper house has also passed the Telangana bill, which the president — a Congress appointee — is expected to sign.
The history behind the controversial bill is long and emotional; however in a nutshell, the demand is to carve out a new state from the existing state of Andhra Pradesh, which would absorb the current state capital of Hyderabad. Protestors against such a move have argued that bifurcation would cause detriment to new Andhra Pradesh, also known as Seemandhra, as the more developed city of Hyderabad, water bodies and income opportunities would no longer be easily accessible to them. They also believe that they would be more vulnerable to the threat of naxalism, a communist ideology. The protests have been raging since 2011, which have seen many incidents of violence, vandalism, arson, ransacking, petrol bombs, tear gas, and most recently, pepper spray.
The history behind protests in the well of the house leading to disruptions and adjournments over crucial issues, of course, extends well beyond the issue of Telangana. In 2013, a report by the Times of India indicated that since the 1950s, the hours spent working in the Lok Sabha have been gradually decreasing; from about 3784 hours on average between 1952-57 (during the 1st Lok Sabha session) to 1157 hours since 2009 (the current and 15th session of the lower house). Lok Sabha floor management seems to be dismal, resulting in critical legislation still pending consensus. Further, members seem to be “trying to impress their voters back home with their commitment to the cause they are espousing” by their interruptions, using the live broadcast of Lok Sabha to their advantage. The infamous pepper spray incident wasn’t just about the MPs who were wheeled off to the hospital. Glass screens on the tables were smashed, microphones were uprooted, papers flew everywhere, and the parliamentarians were in fisticuffs with each other. The images of the day shocked the media and viewers alike, with reports calling it a “day of shame”.
On 17 February, a day before the “black out” the Indian Express reported that the government had made arrangements for the Finance Minister P. Chidambaram to read out the 2014-15 Interim Budget in the Lok Sabha TV studio, should the MPs disrupt the proceedings once again. The report also stated that: “If the speech is read from the studio, it would be the first such instance. Government managers said they hope the step won’t be necessary, but have alerted the studio authorities to be prepared.” Luckily for him, the house listened with minor interruptions and passed the bill.
However, it was just the next day that the government chose to manage the disruptions in the lower house, caused by the tabling of the Telangana bill, by ordering Lok Sabha TV to stop both, broadcasting the proceedings of the House and transmitting its live feed to other private media channels. The Economic Times reports that: “The House looked like a virtual battle-ground during the 90-minute proceedings as members resorted to slogan-shouting to protest against passage of the bill. Live telecast by Lok Sabha TV was stopped, perhaps the first time.” Many members of parliament called it a “black day” in the country’s democracy, and others likened the move to the heavy censorship employed during India’s Emergency, when Prime Minister Indira Gandhi heavily censored the media. Despite a statement from Lok Sabha TV’s CEO who has called it a “snag”, the Parliamentary Minister, Kamal Nath, confirmed that the black out was “a decision of the Lok Sabha secretariat”. There are hints that the opposition, while protesting the black out loudly in public, knew about the plan to stop transmission.
Congress Minister Rajeev Shukla defended the move by saying that the media gallery was open, therefore there was no intention to keep anything behind closed doors. Congress spokesperson Abhishek Manu Singhvi stated in a TV interview that, “why is so much noise being about the live transmission? Eight years ago there was no live coverage. Does it mean parliament didn’t function or people did not speak? There were 200 correspondents were in the press gallery who were witness to what happened during the passage of the bill.” Others, on the winning side, like Telangana supporter KT Rama Rao felt that “people have no problem if the TV channels did not receive their TRPs. The Speaker might have decided to stop the telecast to save some lives at the moment when emotions were high.”
In an interesting analysis, Sevanti Ninan, of the Hoot, looks back at the role of Indian media in creating and sustaining movements such as Telangana. She writes: “In the case of Telangana, newspapers and TV channels have come into existence in the last few years primarily to articulate the statehood demand. If the media pre-2009 was owned largely by businessmen and politicians from the Andhra region, there are now entrants such as T News, V-6 and others on the Telangana side of the divide.” In fact, such was their role that in January 2010, the Andhra Pradesh High Court observed that “on account of some of these abusive visuals, people are becoming violent…”
Therefore the issue boils down to a few either/or questions. Did the Speaker of the House cancel the broadcast on purpose, and if yes, in today’s television era, is the move justified? Do people have a right to see how their MPs behave in parliament – good or bad – or does the Congress argument that other forms of media can report on the proceedings of the House hold water? Is this a dangerous precedent set by the ruling UPA? Is the move to simply deny private channels/political parties who oppose the government’s position their TRPs for the day, by cancelling live footage of the ruckus of the House? Can the Lok Sabha simply choose to switch off live proceedings in order to pass a contentious bill, or can this be categorised as “floor management”?
And the elephant in the room – without the free publicity by Lok Sabha TV cameras, did the MPs finally get down to actually doing the work — vote — that they are meant to instead of prolonged disruptions?
This article was published on 20 February 2014 at indexoncensorship.org
