In September, The Caravan published a piece by Ananya Vajpeyi, where she expressed her anger at Perry Anderson's views on India. Anderson had, earlier, written for the London Review of Books three long pieces on the grime that lies underneath our conceptions of nationhood. It is natural for some to take exception, and Vajpeyi's anger is, in many ways, righteous. There were, though, a few assumptions in her thought which it would be useful to underline. For those same assumptions can often be found in most liberal Indian worldviews.
She states early in her piece that 'in pursuit of his effort to render a scathing verdict on the Indian present, he [Anderson] has constructed a malign caricature of the Indian past, beginning with two relentless attacks on Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru'. It is possible that Anderson has constructed a 'malign caricature'. But whether it is a caricature of the 'Indian past' can be questioned. The antics of a few nationalist leaders, however important, may not be all there is to 'Indian past'. And even if these individuals were central to Indian nationhood, it cannot be assumed that nationhood itself is central to the history of this wide land. Indian past is far wider, more complex, than Vajpeyi implicitly claims. And 'malign caricatures' of its leaders, at various points in time, may be integral to its understanding.
Her admirable description of her idea of India must be quoted in full.
'It is the fact that India’s identity does not depend on a political form, racial characteristics, ethnicity, religion or language—all of which form the bases of modern nations... that makes skeptics of the idea of India so dreadfully uncomfortable. India constitutes itself in the present as an entity with what Nehru called “a rich and immemorial past” by relying on a complex repertoire of symbolic resources, where literary genres, practices of aesthetics, and cultures of knowledge count as much if not more than histories of power as the ground of the modern nation-state.'
If India is indeed that big and diverse, then it is obvious that its identity wont depend on one political form or race or religion. In that sense, as an aggregate, it is different from many other (especially Western) nation states. But whether individual Indians, however learned, embrace this whole is highly doubtful. That does not mean it is difficult to be skeptical about India. On the contrary, it is one of the central reasons for skepticism. In her writing, Vajpeyi may forge an idea of India above and beyond prejudice. But in the real world, messy and inept, where individuals make decisions informed by their antagonisms, a different picture may emerge. One where the nation has evident biases.
It appeals to an intellectual to think of the idea of India as that which transcends intractable conflicts. It is easy to arrive at a sense of identity which is beyond these messy realities. But the real India is surely not such an abstraction. It is far more difficult, then, to think of India as ensnared in these very ambivalences. To fashion a sense of identity around it. That would entail dealing with specific problems. When people start fighting specific battles they encounter the incorrigibility of India. No more, then, can they seek refuge in selective abstractions. Vajpeyi escapes the dilemma, thus narrowing comfortably her conception of this land.
'Anderson's criticisms of the Indian state’s conduct in Kashmir and the Northeast; his rage against caste; his objections to dynastic politics; his fulminations against corruption; his calling out of routine torture in police custody, of rampant human rights abuses by the law and order machinery... there is hardly a dearth of Indian citizens or intellectuals who would agree with him wholeheartedly on some or all of these issues. But when he relentlessly attacks India’s democratic system, its secular values, and its very existence as a single nation... it’s as if he is saying that India’s nearly billion-and-a-half people believe in an entity that is only make-believe.'
Surely the belief of 'nearly billion-and-a-half people' does not make it real. Vajpeyi is on shaky epistemic ground here. A billion and a half people (soon) adhere to a makeshift construct. They don't always believe in it, because their regular lives do not require such belief. It isn't always and for everyone an article of faith. But even if they did, even if they did attach meaning to their being Indian, that may have nothing to do with firm historical validity for a nation state this large and haphazard. On the other hand, even if Perry Anderson were right, and this idea of India is indeed make-believe, that wouldn't rob these billion and a half people of the meaning they derive from being Indian. Vajpeyi, unknowingly, diminishes the idea of India.
She goes on - 'It bears emphasising that I have no interest in defending the violence, coercion, militarism, communalism, discrimination, corruption and inequality that flourish under the auspices of the Indian state, and oppress large sections of the Indian citizenry, especially in the Northeast, in Jammu and Kashmir, in Dalit or Muslim communities across the country, and in tribal areas in central India.'
One may argue that this amounts to lip service. Vajpeyi repeatedly mentions learned Indian thinkers who have criticized the State and its ways, albeit without maligning the forefathers. Intellectuals are known to try to be objective and reasonable. It is interesting that the reasonableness disappears when their idea of India is attacked.
Perry Anderson has alerted us to contradictions in our history. That is what historians are supposed to do. If he carries through, in the process, his own baggage, we must try to discount it. Yet, his endeavor is more trustworthy than Ananya Vajpeyi grand idea of India. What Vajpeyi seeks, for herself and for others, is an identity informed by the greatness of our history. What she doesn't realize, is if indeed India is all that she claims, it will be strengthened by Anderson's critique. It will embrace it.
For if indeed there is an idea of India as resilient as the cultures of this land, it is not imprisoned in the callow sufferings of a few nationalist leaders. It is, instead, negotiated every day, in the desperations of its people.
She states early in her piece that 'in pursuit of his effort to render a scathing verdict on the Indian present, he [Anderson] has constructed a malign caricature of the Indian past, beginning with two relentless attacks on Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru'. It is possible that Anderson has constructed a 'malign caricature'. But whether it is a caricature of the 'Indian past' can be questioned. The antics of a few nationalist leaders, however important, may not be all there is to 'Indian past'. And even if these individuals were central to Indian nationhood, it cannot be assumed that nationhood itself is central to the history of this wide land. Indian past is far wider, more complex, than Vajpeyi implicitly claims. And 'malign caricatures' of its leaders, at various points in time, may be integral to its understanding.
Her admirable description of her idea of India must be quoted in full.
'It is the fact that India’s identity does not depend on a political form, racial characteristics, ethnicity, religion or language—all of which form the bases of modern nations... that makes skeptics of the idea of India so dreadfully uncomfortable. India constitutes itself in the present as an entity with what Nehru called “a rich and immemorial past” by relying on a complex repertoire of symbolic resources, where literary genres, practices of aesthetics, and cultures of knowledge count as much if not more than histories of power as the ground of the modern nation-state.'
If India is indeed that big and diverse, then it is obvious that its identity wont depend on one political form or race or religion. In that sense, as an aggregate, it is different from many other (especially Western) nation states. But whether individual Indians, however learned, embrace this whole is highly doubtful. That does not mean it is difficult to be skeptical about India. On the contrary, it is one of the central reasons for skepticism. In her writing, Vajpeyi may forge an idea of India above and beyond prejudice. But in the real world, messy and inept, where individuals make decisions informed by their antagonisms, a different picture may emerge. One where the nation has evident biases.
It appeals to an intellectual to think of the idea of India as that which transcends intractable conflicts. It is easy to arrive at a sense of identity which is beyond these messy realities. But the real India is surely not such an abstraction. It is far more difficult, then, to think of India as ensnared in these very ambivalences. To fashion a sense of identity around it. That would entail dealing with specific problems. When people start fighting specific battles they encounter the incorrigibility of India. No more, then, can they seek refuge in selective abstractions. Vajpeyi escapes the dilemma, thus narrowing comfortably her conception of this land.
'Anderson's criticisms of the Indian state’s conduct in Kashmir and the Northeast; his rage against caste; his objections to dynastic politics; his fulminations against corruption; his calling out of routine torture in police custody, of rampant human rights abuses by the law and order machinery... there is hardly a dearth of Indian citizens or intellectuals who would agree with him wholeheartedly on some or all of these issues. But when he relentlessly attacks India’s democratic system, its secular values, and its very existence as a single nation... it’s as if he is saying that India’s nearly billion-and-a-half people believe in an entity that is only make-believe.'
Surely the belief of 'nearly billion-and-a-half people' does not make it real. Vajpeyi is on shaky epistemic ground here. A billion and a half people (soon) adhere to a makeshift construct. They don't always believe in it, because their regular lives do not require such belief. It isn't always and for everyone an article of faith. But even if they did, even if they did attach meaning to their being Indian, that may have nothing to do with firm historical validity for a nation state this large and haphazard. On the other hand, even if Perry Anderson were right, and this idea of India is indeed make-believe, that wouldn't rob these billion and a half people of the meaning they derive from being Indian. Vajpeyi, unknowingly, diminishes the idea of India.
She goes on - 'It bears emphasising that I have no interest in defending the violence, coercion, militarism, communalism, discrimination, corruption and inequality that flourish under the auspices of the Indian state, and oppress large sections of the Indian citizenry, especially in the Northeast, in Jammu and Kashmir, in Dalit or Muslim communities across the country, and in tribal areas in central India.'
One may argue that this amounts to lip service. Vajpeyi repeatedly mentions learned Indian thinkers who have criticized the State and its ways, albeit without maligning the forefathers. Intellectuals are known to try to be objective and reasonable. It is interesting that the reasonableness disappears when their idea of India is attacked.
Perry Anderson has alerted us to contradictions in our history. That is what historians are supposed to do. If he carries through, in the process, his own baggage, we must try to discount it. Yet, his endeavor is more trustworthy than Ananya Vajpeyi grand idea of India. What Vajpeyi seeks, for herself and for others, is an identity informed by the greatness of our history. What she doesn't realize, is if indeed India is all that she claims, it will be strengthened by Anderson's critique. It will embrace it.
For if indeed there is an idea of India as resilient as the cultures of this land, it is not imprisoned in the callow sufferings of a few nationalist leaders. It is, instead, negotiated every day, in the desperations of its people.
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