emocratic deficit is
American linguist Noam Chomsky’s term for describing the fatal inability
of institutions within a democratic state to contribute positively towards
sustaining democratic principles; indeed, systems that perform the
opposite function by choking information, dialogue, dissent and crucial
sharing of opinion.
Within a worldwide emerging doctrinal system, democratic agencies that
deliver educational, administrative, electoral, judicial or
communicational and media functions turn sclerotic and conspire to cook up
a ‘permitted democracy’ where crucial subjects hardly enter the realm of
public discussion, depriving the public largely of the opportunity to form
considered opinions.
A system of shadow-boxing emerges, within which democracy is acceptable
only if it is consistent with strategic and economic interests. The
day-to-day engagements, so necessary to create a functioning democratic
culture within which the public can play a role in determining policies,
is effectively throttled. This means a deliberate rollback of the state
and the active promotion of social buccaneering.
Since the ‘public sphere’ is already an integral element of the
bourgeois state, any dent in the role of the state can only lead to a
guillotining of the idea of the ‘public sphere’.
The emergence of ‘public sphere’ as a notional device during the long
passage from a monarchical to a more open, democratic form of society was
conceived as a level playing field for plural and contesting interests to
enter into dialogue. It was premised upon the abstract existence of an
independent ‘critical-rational’ space within daily life, which took one to
social commons like the market, the theatre, the media, the library, the
public transport or the club.
The manner in which scholars of the Frankfurt School posited the idea,
there was an emancipatory aspect to the notion of the ‘public sphere’, as
it opened out hitherto closed or controlled areas of a citizen’s life
under more totalitarian systems and thereby tended to extend the formal
limits of democracy.
Within the binary counterposing of ‘state’ and ‘society’, the ‘public
sphere’ found legitimisation as a site for contestatory public opinion
that would provide the check and balance against arbitrary exercise of the
state’s authority or a deviation from any rule of law.
Thus, in an ideal sense, the ‘public sphere’ necessarily encourages
both, a diversity of opinion and practice as well as the conditions for
dissent from majoritarian pressures. The theorists, however, failed to
sufficiently delineate the nuances between, say, a bourgeois ‘public
sphere’ and a socialist ‘public sphere’.
The distinction would have been both substantial and significant. It
would have alerted us to the trajectory of the ‘public sphere’ over at
least the past fifty years, as having been a flight path that successfully
achieved a high degree of information denial, advertisement induced
consumer slavery, mass surveillance, media generated dumbing down and
collective hysterical behaviour thriving on pathological violence.
It would also have emphasised the need to comprehend the idea of the
‘public sphere’ as a dynamic and constantly forming one, and not as
something frozen in time and space as an institution ‘out there’ and to be
taken for granted.
It would have further informed us of the recurring possibility of the
vitiation of this sphere every time the state undergoes corporatisation,
meaning, when the democratic agenda is hijacked in a unidirectional manner
towards solely serving the purposes of the elites.
Right from the outset of the Indian nation state, the public sphere has
been a stillborn baby. If, even after sixty years, our statistics throw up
absurd figures like 44 per cent of the population living on less than US
$1 a day or, in other words, 440 million people (double the population of
America) living on less than Rs 40 a day, the notion of the ‘public
sphere’ becomes largely abstract. It, in fact, becomes a space from where
they can mount an attack on the infructuous state. It becomes a site for
both lumpen and elite vigilantism, for mystical revivalism, for
majoritarian fascism and for militant Maoism.
The cultural commons and the discourse within it has now been
systematically usurped by mainstream cinema with its cynical messages on
the status quo or glorification of the violent hero or neurotic appeals to
the divine. This has become the staple mass consumption. Supplementing it
is the contagion of mass mysticism. Satsangs and bhajan mandalis
have become the new polluters of the public mind where literally millions
of people are administered their daily dose on the virtues of conformism
to the brutal, savage society they live within.
The fight against Maoist resurgence takes the form of private landlord
militias like Salwa Judum on the one hand and massive state mobilisation
on the other to "flush out" the "Naxalite menace". The entire language is
as if that of mosquito eradication with not even a token concession to the
possibility that this movement (albeit violent) from below might be a
marker, a window to the real frustrations and exhaustion of patience of a
large number of people. Instead, almost one third of India running
vertically "from Pashupatinath to Tirupatinath" is dubbed a "red corridor"
and a staggering budget of some Rs 12,000 crore is earmarked to carry out
"aerial assaults" on them with devices including ‘Agent Orange’ – last
heard of being used in the killing fields of Vietnam.
Or take the consequences of some five decades of annual floods in
Bihar, brought about by the entirely non-democratic mechanism of building
embankments to contain the north to south flowing rivers in that state.
The whole exercise has turned monster and systematically submerges
thousands of villages every year, taking lives and snatching livelihood.
Over 2.5 million people in Bihar today reportedly live on top of these
narrow embankments, as they have nowhere else to go. The rest of India
perhaps doesn’t even know this. And this is boom time for the media, with
papers and channels sprouting faster than scruff on young chins. But the
Indian media has collectively decided that it will now stay entirely with
‘good times’ India. As a crucial player in the ‘public sphere’ it will
operate within a cordon sanitaire and insulate its middle class consumers
from disturbing realities.
Take the other monstrosity, Special Economic Zones (SEZs). Extensive
areas, which were once rural districts, are being turned into SEZs. This
again is one of the most un-debated and undemocratic activities of our
times, where large chunks of land and other resources like water, power,
labour, etc are written off in favour of single-minded economic
extraction. People living in such zones then get recalibrated as criminals
or lawbreakers if they make any claims to a sense of ‘residence’.
Or consider the deafening national silence over the proposals of the
National Commission on Creative and Cultural Industries – total silence in
the media and in every other public sphere. Not even a single editorial in
any language or a public symposium in any language on a proposal that
promises to mop up Rs 60,000 crore by parasitising on the crafts and
artistic base of the nation. This can only be construed as a victory of
the market management of the ‘public sphere’ within which large-scale
silence can be interpreted as consent and artificially manufactured
opposition can be interpreted as ‘public will’.
The past weeks must have been particularly difficult and alarming for
all those who put store by the growth of democratic institutions and the
consolidation of a healthy, supple, responsible ‘public sphere’ in India.
A wave of vigilantism seems to be mobilising and replacing the existing
spaces of political negotiation.
And the cascading violence has also turned unrepentant. A lad in
Palanpur is lynched for eloping with a girl. In Bhagalpur a petty thief is
beaten up by a mob and then, in full view of television cameras, tied to a
police motorcycle and dragged through the streets until he falls
unconscious.
Principals and professors of colleges are dragged out, assaulted and
killed. Fatwas are issued for cross-dressed religious leaders in Punjab or
feminist writers like Taslima Nasreen. The Bhandarkar Institute in Pune
ends up endorsing the violent censorship that wrecked its own research
library. Media institutions like Dinakaran in Madurai and
Outlook in Mumbai are ransacked and torched for ‘opinion polls’ that
disseminate results unpalatable to some parties. Caste panchayats across
the country now increasingly determine how people should live or dress or
love or marry.
Films like Fire, Water, Parzania, Jo Bole So
Nihal, Rang De Basanti, Jashn-e-Azadi, etc are attacked;
plays like Ponga Pandit, The Vagina Monologues, etc are
threatened, artists like MF Husain, Surendran Nair, Bhupen Khakhar, Arpita
Singh, etc are pilloried.
In the most bizarre of these incidents, the dean of the faculty of fine
arts at the MS University, Vadodara, Prof Shivaji Panikkar is suspended
for having upheld the law by supporting the fundamental and
artistic rights of his student, Chandra Mohan, who was attacked by a mob
that illegally entered the university premises.
In an equally bizarre manner, Leela Samson, director of the Centre
administered Kalakshetra, the revered school for Bharatanatyam and other
arts in Chennai, is at the receiving end of an anonymous campaign
vilifying her and insinuating that a ‘Christian’ director is bound to be
detrimental to the ‘Hindu’ character of the institution.
Since the deliberate ravaging of the Babri Masjid in December 1992 in
full media glare, and with absolutely no one being brought to book for it,
one can trace a new era of right wing activism that has been set in
motion, in which strategic mob action unleashes rounds of violence in the
public sphere, claiming injury to specific honour or pride or identity.
Of course, it must be mentioned that the blueprint for this was drawn
up earlier, in 1984, during the all India anti-Sikh riots in the wake of
the assassination of Indira Gandhi. That is when the Indian state
officially decided that it would henceforth speak through the mobs.
Since 1992, however, the Hindutva brigades, proclaiming themselves
custodians of social morality, have conducted several operations against
beauty pageants, Valentine’s Day events, cricket matches with Pakistan,
Michael Jackson and the Spice Girls, the Pakistani ghazal singer Ghulam
Ali and so on.
The domain of artistic expression, in fact, has come in for special
attention. Art criticism in India now comes with a cutting edge.
Literally. Pens have been replaced by penknives. The new critics swing
together in shoals of thirty, forty, hundred connoisseurs. They pay
periodic visits to art galleries (like the one in Surat a few years ago)
where they display equal interest in the works of pioneers of contemporary
Indian art like the late NS Bendre, radical pioneers like KH Ara and MF
Husain and young modernists like Chittrovanu Mazumdar; to stage plays
(like Habib Tanvir’s Ponga Pandit in many towns of Madhya Pradesh);
or even libraries of rare manuscripts (like the Bhandarkar Oriental
Research Institute, Pune).
Even as mainstream Indian media seems to collectively shut out serious
arts coverage, comment or critique (rendering the individual ‘critic’
redundant), a new cabal of critics has taken to the streets. They fly
diverse flags – the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, the Bajrang Dal, the Shiv Sena,
the Sambhaji Brigade. Yet their critical sensibilities are distinguished
by suspicious similarities. They believe in instant judgement and in swift
enforcement of aesthetic yardsticks (and stones). Scar, tar, mar, is their
preferred mode of critical practice.
It is not an entirely new approach to art. Many hatchet men have romped
through the portals of history, slashing a canvas here, lopping off an
exposed breast there, hammering a sculpture elsewhere. The Taliban even
carried out, with great success, missile target practice on the Bamiyan
Buddhas. The complex structural and technical features of those awesome
giant sculptures or even Buddha’s own beatitude seemingly had no calming
influence on the rubble-masonry experts of artistic fundamentalism.
The new Indian aesthetes (who seem to have no qualms about emulating
the deep cultural tutelage of the Taliban) do not place much value on what
‘pleases’ in art. They focus selectively on what ‘offends’. And that’s a
pretty broad criterion to apply. For, one can offend with anything. Humour,
irony, sarcasm, candour, irreverence, imagined insults to imagined
cultural values or traditions; anything can instigate their critical
faculties. In the blink of an eye they can pull out their idle kerosene
cans and matchboxes and apply their well-practised pyromania on the
offending object.
These ‘cultural zappeurs’ are forever alert and active. They
track individual artists. They ambush auditoria. They throttle theatre.
They are cynical of serious cinema. They dread documentaries. They get
into hysterics with history. They cannibalise canvases. They gherao
galleries. They parade their penchant for pinch-hitting. "Apologise, or
else!" becomes their magic mantra for regulating a compliant
art.
Their steady list of victories, over the past decade and more, includes
corralling individual artists like Husain while thoughtfully torching the
Husain-Doshi Gufa in Ahmedabad which housed the Chester Herwitz collection
of Husain’s works; amputating the work of leading Indian historians in
exhibitions like Ham Sab Ayodhya in Faizabad and Delhi; terrorising
scores of individual artists and writers; censoring filmmakers like Deepa
Mehta or Mani Ratnam or even an entire festival like the Mumbai
International Film Festival (MIFF).
The ‘little man’ that political psychologist Wilhelm Reich so beseeched
us to beware of has now turned critic. We are squarely into the era of an
aesthetic of erasures where it is not creativity that will evoke pleasure
but destruction. Here, destruction is the magical antiseptic in the hands
of necrophilic agents, to be used on what seems "offensive and impure" in
order to maintain social hygiene.
Perhaps the day is not far when a casual tourist to our cities will be
able to identify the location of a handful of art galleries there by the
quantum of police bandobast around them.
The more worrying issue is about the artists who have not been
singled out and targeted or whose works are ‘non-objectionable’.
What are they to make of themselves? Should they now preen at being
certified ‘safe’ artists or should they voluntarily consign their works to
the flames for not being good enough to provoke anyone? The essential
premise of the post-classical foundations of art in modern times has been
about the individual artist’s sacred right to self-expression – often
against the grain. If classical art was considered divinely ordained and
canonical, resulting in it becoming over-decorated and decadent, modern
art has sought freedom to turn the canons upside down, to seek a more
liberating human content.
Poets, painters, playwrights, dancers, filmmakers, have functioned on
the premise of an imperative need to assert their personal insights on the
inner universe of the mind on the one hand and the outer world of social
practices on the other, often coming up with views quite divergent from
accepted beliefs or familiar and comfortable positions. Artists have
claimed a space that has the potential to undermine, disturb, subvert, the
status quo. In fact, their art consists in their very ability, in Italian
semiotician Umberto Eco’s words, to perennially "carry out a new and
subtle guerrilla warfare at the borders of meanings". This has been
construed as their valuable civilisational contribution which, in turn,
confers an aura upon the arts and artists.
But violent chastisement for having transgressed imagined boundaries
of the permissible is now considered a legitimate activity within parties
of the Right. Way back in 1993, senior ideologues of the sangh parivar
like LK Advani, KR Malkani and others attempted to publicly instruct
MF Husain on how and what to paint. In 1996, VHP president Ashok Singhal
cautioned Husain to "ceremonially burn" his "offending" paintings of
Saraswati to demonstrate his "good intentions". A far more belligerent Uma
Bharti had also recommended "psychiatric treatment" for Husain.
Since those days in 1993, the art appreciation brigade of the Hindutva
flank has not missed a trick in drumming up the bogey of uncontrolled art
leading to social prurience, erosion of cultural values and, more
significantly, simply being critical. It is hardly surprising now to hear
Mr Advani doling out artistic advice to students of the Vadodara school of
art, on the "limits of artistic freedom".
There is a well-articulated middle class conceit that the
cut/slash/rip/dig formula of art appreciation is the dark hubris of a
loony fringe of the sangh parivar. They would assure us that these are
small and isolated incidents whose perpetrators are mere lumpen madcaps
and should not be confused with the otherwise sane and cultured lot of the
parivar. Well, perhaps the news needs to be delivered to these worthies –
the fringe has, in fact, usurped the field.
The pleasures of destruction are unquestionable, as any child
psychologist will corroborate. But extended into adulthood and the public
sphere these merely become self-indulgent pleasures. As a society grows,
it needs to find filters to curb this destructive tendency. All residues
of it can only be termed malignant.
What they surface as then, to the eternal shame of any claims to a
democratic ‘public sphere’, is the kind of state instigated/supported
genocide that we witnessed in Gujarat. For parties intent upon
aggrandising the ‘public sphere’, one of the advantages of encouraging
such deviant violence in citizens transformed into mobs is the well-known
psychological fallout – Guilt. Their silence in the face of injustice and
their complicity in guilt merely propels them into further cycles of
escalating violence. Only this can explain the totally remorseless and
sullen non-acceptance of the ‘Best Bakery’ savagery or the videos of the
brutalities of the riots now circulating through video libraries in the
state as ‘home entertainment’.
It is clear that the existence of a supple and robust ‘public sphere’
has always been a well-nurtured myth of Indian participatory democracy. It
is a myth that conflates the principle of ‘voting rights’ of citizens with
the idea of ‘janata janardhan’ (people power), making out as if the
sheer exercise of casting votes ensures the nurture and amplification of
the ‘public sphere’.
No one has explained more clearly than Herbert Marcuse (German-born
philosopher, sociologist and member of the Frankfurt School), the blinding
fallacy of this premise. Marcuse said, "Free election of masters
abolishes neither masters nor slaves."
Indian democracy has enabled a rapid formation of this ‘master’ class,
which has successfully violated every principle of democratic politics. It
has also substantially reneged on the idea of a ‘democratic commons’ that
can not only inform democratic practice but create a community of
activist-citizens who fiercely defend the systematic throttling of the
‘public sphere’.
"I am tired; tired of the patience of my people," the ‘nightingale of
India’, Sarojini Naidu had exclaimed in exasperation a decade before
independence.
Six decades after independence, the marker of that collective
‘patience’ progressively translates as an increasing silence over the
daily encroachments into the public sphere.
(Sadanand Menon is a photographer, journalist and cultural commentator
based in Chennai.)