THE GHOST OF ‘DENATIONALISATION’

The recent vituperative comments made by certain writers and ‘freedom-fighters’, reported in the press in the context of the demand for state support for English as Medium of Instruction (MoI) forces us to search for a deeper understanding of the issue of language politics. Given that the problem identified by such statements is about doing something that is antithetical to the national ways of life, one need to ask how we have reached this moment. One of the ways that we can understand the issue is by focusing on the operation of Indian nationalism in Goa.

Reference to T. B. Cunha’s pamphlet Denationalisation of Goans, (1944) is critical to the task at hand as many of these offensive comments either make a direct reference to Cunha and/or base their arguments on his ‘denationalisation’ thesis. Cunha wrote this pamphlet at a time when Indian nationalism was growing powerfully and anti-imperialist nationalist movements were emerging around the globe. While it is clear that Cunha went hammer and tongs against the propaganda of the Portuguese state, one would also be struck with the contradictory nature of his ideological claims. Cunha’s basic thesis was that Portuguese colonialism had “enslaved” the Goan – particularly the monolithically constructed Goan Catholic, thus preventing a national feeling or pride from emerging in their hearts. According to Cunha, a long history of the Portuguese presence in Goa and a long and complex history of Christianization had produced a Goan “essentially [of] a slavish character”, who was happy to ape Western manners and customs on his own volition.

The most glaring contradiction in Cunha’s pamphlet was his attempt at creating a single enemy against which Indian nationalism could be positioned. In this scheme of things, Cunha not only identified the Portuguese rule as the enemy, but also ended up portraying all Goan Christians as a comprador class. Reading Cunha’s pamphlet carefully one realizes that to delegitimize the Portuguese state he portrayed Goan people as being denied agency and being oppressed. However, he also claimed that Goans – particularly the Christians – were happy in their enslavement by the Portuguese and thereby furthering the interests of the Portuguese state against Indian interests. What was never explained was how a people who had been enslaved by a system, ideology, or culture had, simultaneously, the agency to further the interests of the same system, ideology, or culture. Even if we assume that some Goans were enslaved, how could slaves be the bad guys or the compradors?

In his haste to make Goa Indian and evoke feelings of Indian-ness in Goans, Cunha left Goan Catholics no choice – either you had to be Indian or you were nothing. Such an attitude is reflected in his rather bizarre assertion: “Even in her present return to saree, the Catholic Goan woman is not guided by any national feeling since she still prefers foreign material to Indian for her new dress. It would be a better proof of her patriotic spirit to continue to dress in European attire but give preference to Indian cloth” (p. 30).

This skewed logic of the oppressed simultaneously furthering their own oppression is also seen when Cunha discusses the state of language and literature in Goa, as part of ‘denationalisation’ thesis. Critical to the current politics in linguistic and pedagogic policies, it needs to be quoted at length. Cunha says, “The obstacles set up to the cultivation of their mother-tongue [by the Portuguese] deprived Goans of their most natural instrument for the expression of their highest thoughts and deepest feelings, checked all spontaneity and deprived them of a literature worthy of the name. Ashamed of their uncultivated language, the educated class professes to despise it. Forced to write in a foreign language, they are bound to produce merely imitations lacking in the creative spirit and originality which are the privilege of those who are inspired by the deep consciousness of the race. Their thoughts are borrowed from the distant West…” (p. 25).

Following the ‘denationalisation’ thesis wherein the church, the Portuguese state, and all Christians were claimed to be working to enslave all Goans, it becomes immediately clear why the demand of English as MoI was initially (and still seen) as a conspiracy hatched by Christians and supported by the Church. Apart from the bizarre accusation made by Naguesh Karmali against the church, Raju Nayak, the editor of a prominent Marathi daily recently berated the Church for its lack of Indian-ness. Further the editor in question said that the church was responsible for Goans opting for Portuguese citizenship, and concluded that “English education is not only inadequate to create ideal citizens and skilled service class, but also responsible for the sin (sic) of creating a generation of selfish, narrow-minded individuals who have no sense of belonging towards the nation. Cunha referred to this attitude as ‘denationalisation’ because the Church strengthened the colonial power in Goa and continued a colonial legacy after that”.

In other words, the nationalism espoused by Cunha and blindly reproduced by his followers continues to create problems – like a ghost that haunts frequently. What the followers of the ‘denationalisation’ thesis do not understand is that it is an inadequate framework to deal with the problems of Goa. In fact, it is such offensive views that push people to a corner, and not the other way round.

Cunha’s thesis fails to recognize that rather than being enslaved Goans were using a variety of strategies to better their lives, the most famous amongst them was to educate their children in Portuguese, English, and Marathi (at least from the nineteenth-century). Writings were produced in Romi Konkani, Portuguese, Marathi, and perhaps even French in Goa. Rather than recognize and encourage diversity and choice, Cunha’s thesis restricts them. This is exactly how linguistic chauvinists think and act in Goa today.

The ideology of ‘denationalisation’ thrives because it is positioned against an enemy: it was Portuguese colonialism and the ‘denationalised’ Goan before, now only the ‘denationalised’ Christian remains.

(All quotes from Denationalisation are from the edition published by the Goa Government, no date)

(A slightly modified version was first published in O Heraldo, dt: 20 January, 2016)

NATIONALIST SAINTS: T. B. CUNHA AND GOAN HISTORY

There is a difference between a biography and a hagiography. The former is written about a historical person whose life may be something other than ordinary. A hagiography is generally the life of a saint and the miracles that s/he had performed in his/her life. Although there is a difference between these two genres, scholars and critics complain that biographical accounts and sketches often read like hagiographies (without the miracles, of course!). This is exactly the thought that came to my mind after I finished reading the recently released graphic novel, The Life and Times of T. B. Cunha (2015) narrated by Nishtha Desai, with illustrations by Ved Prabhudesai.

In recent times, Goans, especially Catholics, have been accused of being inadequately Indian/nationalist and being overtly westernized – a stick that secular nationalists and right-wing nationalists alike use against Goan Catholics. This view has been heavily influenced by Cunha’s rather infamous pamphlet, Denationalisation of Goans (1944). In such a scenario, a minister in the present government, Mr. Dayanand Mandrekar asserts in the introductory pages, “Cunha’s views continue to be relevant. Our people continue to be fascinated by the west and fail to appreciate our history.” His words are only symptomatic of the many problems within the ‘denationalisation’ thesis of Cunha and those who subscribe to his views.

If one reads Denationalisation, Cunha is seen to understand all the policies introduced by the Portuguese empire and state as a means to destroy the authentic culture of Goa and to enslave Goans – although he does not specify what this authentic culture was. Thus, for Cunha, even Christianization was a means of westernization and enslavement of the Goan people. Unfortunately, in keeping with the model of nationalist politics during the ’40s and ’50s, Cunha’s critique was only confined to European imperialism while the internal fractures within Goan society, in terms of class and caste, were either ignored or conveniently forgotten. In his Denationalisation tract, Cunha had – proverbially speaking – thrown the baby out with the bath water. In one sweep, Cunha was able to mark Christians as suspects within his nationalist vision.

The graphic novel in question is faithful to Cunha and his views on Goan history and, as such, reproduces many of his problematical nationalist stances. Like Cunha, this graphic novel is also selective of the facts that it chooses to mention and illustrate. For instance, it is an well-known fact that Afonso de Albuquerque conquered the city of Goa on 25 November, 1510. But it is also eminent fact that Albuquerque had native collaboration in the form of Mhal Pai Vernekar and Timayya.

From the moment of Albuquerque’s conquest in 1510, the book draws on the usual, clichéd, and endless saga of mass conversions, mass migrations, and mass suppressions. The problem is not that the book is unable to include all facts about colonialism in Goa, but the problem lies in a certain narrow and nationalistic interpretation of the few selected facts. “A few people were happy with Portuguese rule as they were given positions of power and respect – they thought themselves superior to ‘Indians’”, we are told without any specificity. Interestingly, the illustration immediately below depicts a group of suited men, sipping alcohol, and smoking cigars – or elite Christians. Further, it was not just elite Christians who enjoyed positions of power and privilege within the Portuguese state, elite Hindus did too. To further problematize the simplistic understandings of Goan history, new research by Dr. Anjali Arondekar has brought to light how the Gomant Maratha Samaj in the nineteenth century was successful in petitioning the Portuguese state for rights to land and protection against upper-caste aggression. How different would this graphic-novel and Cunha’s politics look, if both had pondered on such facts a little more? Surely, this notion of pure victimhood at the hands of an all-powerful outsider would have been tougher to sustain.

And since Cunha’s writings and politics were entirely focused on dealing with imperialism, the graphic novel is unable to ask why Cunha did not view the internal inequality within Goan society as an equal – if not a greater – threat in realizing a just and democratic society. After all, the creation of an equal society was the main thrust of Cunha’s political activism. Instead, we are presented with an image of a saint who, right from childhood, displays signs of greatness and is moved by the poverty of the people of the land – stopping just short of performing miracles. This is exactly what the illustrations seem to be trying to do – prop up a hero or a saint. The text of the novel, in contrast, is quite thin, besides being devoid of any critical gaze on both Cunha’s political career and activism, or Goan history. One would have expected a lot more given that Cunha’s ideas and writings show a change over a period of time – especially since he was unhappy with the manner in which India was handling the question of Goan self-emancipation. Thus, this book does not do justice to either the times or the life of Cunha.

In understanding and evaluating the life and times of Cunha one can be very sure that there is a lot more to the man than merely his image as the ‘Father of Goan nationalism’. A celebratory account will only obscure it.

See also, 'The English Language and Denationalisation', here.

(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 6 January, 2016)

WHAT’S IN A NAME? EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING

Russell Peters, the Indo-Canadian stand-up comic, has a joke about Indians changing the names of their cities from British usages to more ‘Indian’ ones. Like most of his humor, the joke is rather a no-brainer. Indians, he says, waited for so long after the departure of the British only to be very sure that the Brits have indeed left and would never ever come back again. Since this is not a real reason, one could indeed ask what took the Vasco da Gama-Sambhaji Nagar controversy so long to erupt, given that it has been in circulation for more than 50 years since the Portuguese left?

Actually there were efforts to change the name of Goa’s only port-town right from the ’70s. One does not know the details of this attempt by the Dayanand Bandodkar regime, except that the change was vehemently opposed even then, including by tiatrists like the trio of Conception, Nelson, and Anthony.

Coming to the current Vasco da Gama-Sambhaji Nagar controversy, by and large, it has been represented in the media as a ploy to whip up communal sentiments, and polarize the electoral prior to the state assembly election in 2017. Given the BJP’s proven track record in using this strategy there is no denying this possibility. However, it appears that in the process commentators have missed the larger picture of obfuscating and erasing history. A focus on the longer time period is critical, because it helps us understand the process of how propagandists, demagogues, and ideologues would create a political controversy before transforming it into votes.

The names of places in India are often changed in order (or ostensibly) to move away from British colonial history. There is no doubt that an effort to change names (surreptitiously or otherwise) is easily achieved by groups who enjoy political representation and power. The marginalized groups within the nation, or those marginalized on the basis of caste and/or religion have to battle it out to inscribe their identity and icons onto the public sphere. Name-changes therefore is the display of triumphalism by dominant groups in power and one should be aware of the manner in which history is deployed through such a misuse.

The case of Goa, and the history and legacy bequeathed by the Portuguese, are in a sense different from the experience of British colonialism in the rest of India. This is the reason why Goan identity within the Indian nation itself is structured on foregrounding the influences of Portuguese culture and language on the Goans. A Goan self can be said to have slowly emerged from European and Catholic influences over four centuries. Though the upper caste Catholics assumed and appropriated for themselves the guardianship of this identity, this Europeanized-Catholic identity permeated almost all sections of Goans today, both Catholic and others. Therefore, for many of these diverse groups, taking away the element of Portuguese heritage would mean taking something fundamental out of their Goan identity or ‘Goan-ness’.

So, what does one do with a certain Vasco – glorified as well as reviled within the history of European colonialism? The Vasco-Sambhaji Nagar case illustrates the immaturity of the powers-to-be in Goa in handling such issues. It seems that one of the motives was to overwrite the history of the town of Vasco using icons that the Hindu right has appropriated. Whether Sambhaji was really a defender of Hindu dharma, as he is portrayed in some quarters, is not the question that I want to address in this column. What I would like to stress is that the Hindu right and the State today has neglected the complex geo-political maneuvering between the Portuguese, the Mughals, and the Marathas solely to appropriate Sambhaji as one who stood against a proselytizing Christian (and Muslim) power. In fact Sambhaji had allied with Prince Akbar, the son of Aurangzeb, against the Portuguese. Before that the Portuguese are believed to have provided refuge to Prince Akbar. Thus, the complex history of diplomacy, trade, and political strategies are completely forgotten in order to propagate a narrow Hindutva agenda.

We must also ask ourselves what exactly has the Maratha ruler to do with Goa or indeed the town of Vasco? Apart from the panic and terror that Sambhaji’s raids had caused amongst the residents of villages and towns of Bardez and the Portuguese administration, Sambhaji seems to have little connect with the history of Goa or the town of Vasco. Rather, Sambhaji seems to be a convenient figure to pit against that of Vasco da Gama in an easy binary scheme of ‘us’ (Hindus) against ‘them’ (colonizers/Portuguese/Christians).

This understanding of Portuguese colonialism and the overwriting of this history seems plausible as the Christians – the group that (despite internal divisions) is perceived to be the most Westernized and closest to the Portuguese – appears to be once again held suspect for steadfastly refusing to let go of their love for Portugal or the colonial hangover. In fact, this can be very clearly seen in the comment of Custodio D’Souza, a resident of Vasco: “This is an effort to change the very identity of our home town and our lives…Instead of giving us good governance, all this government is trying to do is needle the minority community with such tricks and upset Goa’s peace”.

If we think about the Vasco-Sambhaji Nagar controversy more deeply, we can place it in a series of events wherein Goa’s legitimate history, made by its people, is continuously undermined. One is reminded of the Jack de Sequeira incident, wherein his role in the Opinion Poll and the role of the Christian community  in leading the agitation for Goa’s statehood was sought to be undermined. Similarly, one can also ask why stadia in Goa are named after politicians like Shyama Prasad Mookerjee and Nehru, when they have nothing to do with Goan sports? Thus, if we would like such kind of events not to repeat themselves we would not only be vigilant to the ways in which history is twisted and erased in contemporary debates over Goa’s past.

(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 23 December, 2015)

‘MINORITY-APPEASEMENT’ OR ‘MAJORITY CASTEISM’?

November 2015 would be an unfortunate month for Goa. Not simply because Fr. Bismarque Dias, a fire-brand activist, was found dead under mysterious circumstances, but also because the Goan government  behaved in an atrocious manner in handling the investigation as well as the law and order situation following the peaceful protest on 21 November, 2015. At a time of outpouring of grief and emotion from the people of Goa, and at a time when politics in Goa is in dire need of ‘Kindness’ (to borrow Fr. Bismarque’s word upon which rests his 2012 election manifesto) one would be quite surprised – or rather, shocked – to see vicious anti-minority statements made in public by members of the Bharatiya Bhasha Suraksha Manch (BBSM). With the government increasingly growing unpopular in the eyes of the Goan people, it seems quite certain that members of the RSS-backed BBSM are making hay while the sun shines.

Simply put, the BBSM’s agenda is to block the grants-in-aid to English as a Medium of Instruction (MoI) in primary schools in Goa. In trying to safeguard ‘Indian culture’ (whatever that means), members of the BBSM think that it is the Christians in Goa who are responsible for the demand for English made by parents across the caste and religious divide. It has been quite clear for some time now that the BBSM is an openly rightwing group. Its hostility to minoritized groups is very evident. In the recently-held BBSM press conference, Arvind Bhatikar said to the ruling BJP party in Goa, “Your voter is Hindu. You are in power because of Hindus. Remember this and stop appeasing the minorities”.

This issue I think cannot be framed as one of increasing communalization, as one can see that the BBSM is always clever enough to keep token figures from the Hindu bahujan samaj and the Catholic community in their press conferences and photo-ops. Neither can the vicious hostility to Goa’s minoritized groups can be understood as an issue of increasing “intolerance”. If this was the case, persons like Naguesh Karmali and Pundalik Naik (staunch members of the BBSM and Nagri Konkani litterateurs) would not have aligned with the RSS-backed BBSM, while at the same time protesting the Sahitya Akademi’s silence on the recent murders of writers and rationalists.

So the question is, how do we then, understand the comments that are made by Arvind Bhatikar and the members of the BBSM? The most important way is to see how Brahmanism operates in maintaining its own power. It is no secret that both the RSS and the Nagri Konkani camp (from which most of the Konkani “stalwarts” are drawn) are tightly controlled by brahmins. The Nagri Konkani project itself is the project of the Saraswat caste hegemony. In this context, it would profit us quite a lot if we invoke the comments of Dr. B. R. Ambedkar who observed, “Is it reasonable to expect the secular Brahmins to take part in a movement directed against the priestly Brahmins? In my judgment, it is useless to make a distinction between the secular Brahmins and priestly Brahmins. Both are kith and kin. They are two arms of the same body, and one is bound to fight for the existence of the other”. Clearly, the rightwing brahmins in the RSS and the secular brahmins (who, like Uday Bhembre and Arvind Bhatikar, have so far been projected as ostensibly ‘secular’ and ‘progressive’) have come together under the umbrella of BBSM – and one can only presume that the reason to do so is to maintain each others’ existence.

I am not the first one to see similarities between the methods employed by right-wing Hindu groups and those that are employed by cultural purists like the BBSM – a major chunk of whose leadership consists of the “stalwarts” of the Nagri Konkani camp. Kaustubh Naik argues that in Goa the Nagri Konkani camp functions as a “local culture police” much like Hindu right-wing groups. This local culture police want to “impose a singular identity by carefully erasing all cultural differences to ensure the hegemony of a dominant social group”, i.e. the “Hindu Saraswats” according to Naik (The Goan Everyday, dt: 29 September, 2015).

Where is the minority-appeasement in such a scenario? If repeated struggles by the Goan people, for greater equality in political life and for a greater recognition of their individual and community rights, are diligently scuttled by dominant caste groups (with of course tokens from the Christian community and the Hindu bahujan samaj), then, once again, where is the appeasement? In the context of ‘minority-appeasement’ one cannot help but draw parallels in the manner in which Christians in Goa are made into a scapegoat like Muslims in many parts of India. By making Christians of Goa a scapegoat for a demand that clearly is not confined to them alone, a bid for maintaining caste hegemony is cleverly disguised as a concern for Indian culture – and, most importantly, Indian languages.

As serious as the nature of the comments made by BBSM’s Arvind Bhatikar is, they are also very routine and banal. One must not be fooled into believing that such comments are an exception to the rule, or an aberration. For all parents who are concerned about the future of their children, the need of the hour is not simply to ensure full recognition for the grants to be given to English as MoI, but also to challenge a vicious ideology that would deny people the right to choose.

And all said and done, even if we call this ‘minority-appeasement’, it is only going to do Goa a lot of good.

(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 9 December, 2015) 

READING ‘THE KINDNESS MANIFESTO’: POLITICS AND FR. BISMARQUE

When you wanted a cool atmosphere, instead of providing shade,

We cut trees and gave you air conditioners

I am sorry, extremely sorry. I believe the cry of the

Earth is also the cry of our beautiful Children

– The Kindness Manifesto

How does one read Fr. Bismarque Dias’ The Kindness Manifesto, which was used by him during campaigning for the Goa assembly elections in 2012? Eschewing grand rhetoric about development – or such other populist-phrases – the Manifesto sought to make environmental degradation as central to politics. To begin with, we have to contextualize the Manifesto with the contemporary political realities in Goa. Being a priest, Fr. Bismarque’s ethical understanding was also structured by theological and spiritual influences, and one needs to look at these too. Given that the Manifesto was primarily concerned with an ethical understanding of environmental degradation and its redressal through electoral politics, a lot can be learnt by reading the Manifesto. 

Perhaps like all good ideas, The Kindness Campaign was too ahead of its times. Back in 2012, when Fr. Bismarque convened his first press conference at Old Goa, under the shadow of the Gandhi statue, the reporters seemed to be befuddled with his Manifesto. Compared to the manifestos of other political parties, Fr. Bismarque’s Manifesto lacked a point-by-point developmental agenda. As Fr. Bismarque’s foray into politics was precisely an attempt to bridge the gap between spirituality/ethics and the ground realities in Goa, it was quite unfortunate that there was no deeper engagement in charting out a political vision.

Though many people in Goa could easily see the link between Fr. Bismarque’s Manifesto and the ground realities in Goa, and sympathized and admired his grit and determination, it did not translate into votes. Let us again go back to 3 March 2012. On this day of reckoning for the Manifesto, it is interesting to consider the testimony of a Catholic voter from Cumbharjua: Richard Gomes a Cumbharjua voter said in an interview to Outlook, “‘No Catholic candidate can win in Cumbharjua, so we have to look for alternatives,’ …[because] ‘Hindus are communal, and will never vote for a Catholic in this [Cumbharjua] seat. Since they are a majority, we all have to find a candidate who is somewhat okay with us and responsive to our concerns’”.

Whether the logic of Richard Gomes is a false equivalence or not, the issue here is about whether voters in Goa can make choices that can empower them. The immediacy to survive in the current political climate can render any attempts at better political visions ineffective. Thus, the question that the Manifesto did not engage with was why environmental degradation had to be fought first rather than battling for political representation.  This issue also needs as urgent attention as environmental degradation, precisely because skewed political representation enables anti-environmental policies and laws on the populace by giving power to those that have very little concern for the environment.

The nature of ideas that the Manifesto articulated are not very new within the Catholic Church, and have been around for at least a hundred years. Long before the current Pope issued his Encyclical Letter, ‘Laudato Si’: On Care of Our Common Home’, in May 2015, trying to raise awareness about environmental degradation, faulty governmental policies the world over, and its impact on the poor of the world, Fr. Bismarque’s Kindness Campaign attempted to raise awareness about these very issues. Despite his conflicts with the Church hierarchy in Goa, Fr. Bismarque’s Manifesto and activism need not be seen in isolation, but constituting a part of this larger world of ideas and activism.

One needs to focus closely on the forgiveness the Manifesto sought to ask from the “children” for destroying the “Earth”. The idea of asking forgiveness, I would argue, draws its inspiration from conventional Catholic theology. Further on, Franciscan spirituality with its emphasis on celebrating nature as God’s creation and therefore lovingly preserving it, can be said to be the other influence. Interestingly, the Manifesto is structured in the form of a poem or a song, as opposed to the usual bullet-pointed claims that one finds in other political/electoral manifestos. The Manifesto, therefore, can be linked to ‘The Canticle of Brother Sun’ by St. Francis of Assisi (not surprisingly an inspiration for the ‘Laudato Si’’, given that Pope Francis takes his name from the author of the ‘Canticle’). Just like that document, the Manifesto argues for eschewing wealth and riches in favor of poverty and simple living. The Manifesto sought to fashion a Goan self that would relate compassionately to nature, as a political act. To vote for Fr. Bismarque was therefore a vote to change one’s relationship with nature.

A reading of the Manifesto with how electoral representation is structured in Goa reveals that Fr. Bismarque had to deal with many tough and complex issues. This is a predicament that many people face in Goa. Though the Manifesto emphasized the future of children, there was no attempt to address social and economic inequalities as they occur on the ground – while spiritual/theological understandings within the Christian Church clearly see environmental degradation impacting social and economic inequalities. How to bridge the gap between political vision and environmental degradation, political inaction, and rising religious fundamentalism in Goa is not just a question for Fr. Bismarque’s close associates and friends, but also for the people of Goa, and the Church hierarchy – with whom Fr. Bismarque had a tortuous relationship. This is needed if we do not want his ‘martyrdom’ to be worthless and in vain.

Illustration by Angela Ferrao

(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 25 November, 2015)