Musings: Prickly pride

Hate politics never fails. Whether it’s CK Raut spewing venom against the racist Pahades or Kamal Thapa pouring scorn over the conniving Christians, one thing they are guaranteed is a captive audience. Before they know it the seemingly rationale masses, their basest instincts stirred, find themselves blindly following these hate-mongers. If speaking ill of their enemies doesn’t do the trick, they can always resort to the downright dirty. A case in point is the attack a couple of weeks ago of Shiv Sena, a Maharashtra-based Hindu nationalist party, on author Sudheendra Kulkarni.

BISWAS BARAL

Hate politics never fails. Whether it’s CK Raut spewing venom against the racist Pahades or Kamal Thapa pouring scorn over the conniving Christians, one thing they are guaranteed is a captive audience. Before they know it the seemingly rationale masses, their basest instincts stirred, find themselves blindly following these hate-mongers. If speaking ill of their enemies doesn’t do the trick, they can always resort to the downright dirty. A case in point is the attack a couple of weeks ago of Shiv Sena, a Maharashtra-based Hindu nationalist party, on author Sudheendra Kulkarni.
The Shiv Sainiks emptied a whole pot of black ink over the head of Kulkarni, heads of an influential Indian think-tank, for an unforgivable sin: his presence at the launch of a book by ex-Pakistan foreign minister Khurshid Mahmud Kasuri. As expected, instant and widespread condemnation followed. This, of course, was exactly what Shiv Sena had been angling for: more attention. Instead of remorse, Shiv Sena chief later expressed his pride at the antics of his brave foot soldiers and their ‘peaceful’ means of protest.
The incident reminded me of another author, Taslima Nasreen, who in 2011 had to cancel her trip to Nepal after furor over a supposedly innocuous Tweet. The New Delhi-based Bangladeshi writer had supposedly forgotten to bring her passport to airport since she “didn’t consider Nepal a foreign country!” At best this was reflective of the author’s warmth for all Nepalis; at worst it was a sign of ignorance of a world-famous writer in which case ridicule rather than rage would have been the proper response. But we touchy-feely Nepalis reacted as if our beloved country was facing an existential crisis—from a misshapen Tweet!
Our nationalism can manifest in all kinds of bizarre ways. Take the reaction to the recent Indian blockade. True, this was a clear case of a big country trying to bully its small neighbor into obeying its diktat. But it was also funny to witness the waxing and waning emotions of some of my friends as the crisis unfolded.
At first, there was an instant expression of anger at the Indian establishment and Prime Minister Narendra Modi. But no sooner had Modi congratulated new prime minister KP Oli and invited him to India, a gesture accompanied by some loosening of border controls, the past rancor was quickly forgotten. There was a lot of back-slapping at having showed India its rightful place and people went to their bed safe in the knowledge that they would be able to procure a few liters of petrol tomorrow. This is how the self-serving Pahade nationalism works.
Some scholars like to differentiate between nationalism (with its cultural overtones) and patriotism (deep-held values underpinning the love of your country). But often it’s impossible to distinguish between the two. Not in a transitional society like Nepal where the recent cacophony of competing narratives makes it impossible to arrive at the truth. In this state of flux there is no dearth of people who claim to be true patriots.
“Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel,” English critic and writer Samuel Johnson said at the dusk of eighteenth century. But Johnson was careful to distinguish between true and false patriots. In his reckoning, while a true patriot really loves his country and seriously thinks about its wellbeing, a false patriot is no more than a rabble-rouser who plays with people’s base instincts to achieve his political goals. Johnson believed there were many more false patriots in the eighteenth-century England then there were real patriots. Apparently, yesterday’s England is no different to today’s Nepal.
In Nepal, the only acceptable proof of your nationalist (or patriotic) credential is how much you hate India, or its close substitute, the Indian cricket team. Part of the reason for such instinctive hatred of India is geopolitics; Nepal is effectively India-locked and Nepalis are acutely aware of their confined existence. But that surely is not the whole picture. Surely it also says something about us, the Nepali people, who can invoke our national identity only in opposition to India.
If we are so keen on cultivating a unique identity, why hasn’t there been a real effort to emerge from India’s long shadow? Why did it take a humiliating Indian blockade to diversify our source of oil, that most vital strategic asset?
Tossing and turning in your bed for the whole night because you couldn’t digest the latest victory of the Indian cricket team is precisely how not to do it. Nor can it be done by selective reading of our past. Only when we come to terms with our difficult history, a history written in blood by the marauding Shah kings, will we be able to divine our true national character and together build a bridge to the future.
It’s clear what we stand against. But what do people from every part of the country stand for? Until we find out the peddlers of hate will continue to find keen ears.

biswas.baral@gmail.com

The Shiv Sainiks emptied a whole pot of black ink over the head of Kulkarni, heads of an influential Indian think-tank, for an unforgivable sin: his presence at the launch of a book by ex-Pakistan foreign minister Khurshid Mahmud Kasuri. As expected, instant and widespread condemnation followed. This, of course, was exactly what Shiv Sena had been angling for: more attention. Instead of remorse, Shiv Sena chief later expressed his pride at the antics of his brave foot soldiers and their ‘peaceful’ means of protest.

The incident reminded me of another author, Taslima Nasreen, who in 2011 had to cancel her trip to Nepal after furor over a supposedly innocuous Tweet. The New Delhi-based Bangladeshi writer had supposedly forgotten to bring her passport to airport since she “didn’t consider Nepal a foreign country!” At best this was reflective of the author’s warmth for all Nepalis; at worst it was a sign of ignorance of a world-famous writer in which case ridicule rather than rage would have been the proper response. But we touchy-feely Nepalis reacted as if our beloved country was facing an existential crisis—from a misshapen Tweet!

Our nationalism can manifest in all kinds of bizarre ways. Take the reaction to the recent Indian blockade. True, this was a clear case of a big country trying to bully its small neighbor into obeying its diktat. But it was also funny to witness the waxing and waning emotions of some of my friends as the crisis unfolded.

At first, there was an instant expression of anger at the Indian establishment and Prime Minister Narendra Modi. But no sooner had Modi congratulated new prime minister KP Oli and invited him to India, a gesture accompanied by some loosening of border controls, the past rancor was quickly forgotten. There was a lot of back-slapping at having showed India its rightful place and people went to their bed safe in the knowledge that they would be able to procure a few liters of petrol tomorrow. This is how the self-serving Pahade nationalism works.

Some scholars like to differentiate between nationalism (with its cultural overtones) and patriotism (deep-held values underpinning the love of your country). But often it’s impossible to distinguish between the two. Not in a transitional society like Nepal where the recent cacophony of competing narratives makes it impossible to arrive at the truth. In this state of flux there is no dearth of people who claim to be true patriots.

“Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel,” English critic and writer Samuel Johnson said at the dusk of eighteenth century. But Johnson was careful to distinguish between true and false patriots. In his reckoning, while a true patriot really loves his country and seriously thinks about its wellbeing, a false patriot is no more than a rabble-rouser who plays with people’s base instincts to achieve his political goals. Johnson believed there were many more false patriots in the eighteenth-century England then there were real patriots. Apparently, yesterday’s England is no different to today’s Nepal.

In Nepal, the only acceptable proof of your nationalist (or patriotic) credential is how much you hate India, or its close substitute, the Indian cricket team. Part of the reason for such instinctive hatred of India is geopolitics; Nepal is effectively India-locked and Nepalis are acutely aware of their confined existence. But that surely is not the whole picture. Surely it also says something about us, the Nepali people, who can invoke our national identity only in opposition to India.
If we are so keen on cultivating a unique identity, why hasn’t there been a real effort to emerge from India’s long shadow? Why did it take a humiliating Indian blockade to diversify our source of oil, that most vital strategic asset?

Tossing and turning in your bed for the whole night because you couldn’t digest the latest victory of the Indian cricket team is precisely how not to do it. Nor can it be done by selective reading of our past. Only when we come to terms with our difficult history, a history written in blood by the marauding Shah kings, will we be able to divine our true national character and together build a bridge to the future.
It’s clear what we stand against. But what do people from every part of the country stand for? Until we find out the peddlers of hate will continue to find keen ears.

biswas.baral@gmail.com