Avijit Pathak
Sociologist
These days, whenever I watch the Republic Day parade, I ask myself a pertinent question: Should we expect something more from our nation, beyond the spectacle that demonstrates the techno-military power of the state, or the sanitised/museumised version of India’s cultural diversity? Or is it that we have almost forgotten to believe that the Republic can renew its life-energy only with its moral and ethical power? Think of it. We have a mighty Prime Minister, and the media industry is never tired of valorising his charisma — his ability to take hard decisions, and transform India into a ‘Vishwa Guru’. And our military power, as it is said, is pretty strong; the occasional demonstrations of the ‘surgical strike’ seek to convince us that our ‘enemies’ fear us. Yes, these days, patriotism is often equated with the symbolism of militarism. Yet, if we keep our eyes open, we begin to feel the hollowness of this power, and realise that the Republic is really wounded. It seems that the spirit of liberty, equality and fraternity is fast disappearing with heightened socio-economic inequality, widespread network of corruption and visible signs of rising authoritarianism. In other words, despite the aura of the techno-military power, ours is a morally and spiritually wounded nation.
It is possible to have moral/spiritual power when we feel that as human subjects, we matter; when there is a creative flow of energy and inspiration to be part of this collective because it is based on the ethics of care; and when our elected representatives make us believe that far from being our masters or agents of the rich and the privileged, they are trusted co-travellers. However, we are witnessing its exact opposite. Democracy —the cherished ideal of the Republic — seems to have lost its meaning for two reasons. First, for all practical purposes, it has been reduced into the ritualisation of periodic elections. However, democracy as a way of life — the ability to live with the plurality of worldviews, the spirit of politico-intellectual freedom to question the government, and the art of dialogue and negotiation — is seldom seen.
Instead, there is inherent scepticism towards any critical voice; it is seen as ‘anti-national’. Second, in an age that has caused the standardisation of public imagination because of the huge propaganda machinery and the ever growing industry of fake news and information, it is not easy for an average voter to be guided by an informed opinion and clear thinking. All sorts of stimulant sensations in the name of caste, religion and nationalism are used to divert one’s mind from what should really matter: honest and dedicated work for collective welfare. The result is that in the name of democracy, what has emerged is the discourse of majoritarian nationalism, rising authoritarianism and the cult of narcissism.
Furthermore, it is also important to look at the pathology of a culture when there is trust deficit everywhere, and all institutions seem to have lost their legitimacy. For instance, the debates in the Lok Sabha become increasingly shallow and noisy; and, to take an illustration, the farm Bills with such huge significance can be passed through the voice vote.
In a way, we are all broken, crippled and cynical today. Corruption does not shock us anymore; we have accepted its normalcy and inevitability; it is everywhere — from the local panchayat to the government office; or from the corridors of power to the glamour industry. See its consequences. Nothing, it seems, can be trusted anymore except the power of money. It can fetch you the ‘best’ lawyer to fight your legal case even if you are corrupt and brutal; or the most ‘efficient’ network of ‘friends’ that enhance your social capital. No wonder, these days, even spirituality is some sort of a market-driven discourse of instant emancipation from all sins. Is it therefore surprising that our celebrity babas are always surrounded by top industrialists, Bollywood stars and ministers? Yes, money transforms everything into its opposite — vice into virtue, dishonesty into efficiency, crude business into service, and cultural/psychic morbidity into social pragmatism. No wonder, amid the glitz of the market and neoliberal ethos of consumerism, we continue to experience heightened inequality, marginalisation and ghettoisation. In fact, the tales of the dazzling wealth of the likes of Ambani/Adani, or the mythologies of Bollywood celebrities and cricket stars are not separated from what we see every day: poverty and malnutrition among the marginalised in rural India, street children in our metros begging and eventually taking to drugs, and the darkness that prevails in ghettoised localities. How can the Republic have its moral power with such gross inequality and injustice?
No, the Republic Day parade does not fascinate me anymore. Instead, I feel the pain of seeing the death of the ideals that once enchanted our freedom struggle. I ask myself: Where is the Ambedkarite project of annihilating caste? Where is the Gandhian dream of a society that values the religiosity of love, peace and cultural syncretism? Where is the sensitivity that once led Tagore to remind us of the danger of the psychology of violence the discourse of militant nationalism can lead to? Or, where is the revolutionary spirit of Bhagat Singh and MN Roy? Possibly, the road to emancipation lies in the art of creative rebelliousness. The spark of this rebelliousness can be seen in people’s movements. In fact, in recent times, the farmers have aroused this hope. Hence, their tractor rally on January 26 might somehow devalue the official spectacle we are otherwise used to.
