[sacw] SACW | 19 April 03
Harsh Kapoor
aiindex@mnet.fr
Sat, 19 Apr 2003 02:49:49 +0100
South Asia Citizens Wire | 19 April, 2003
#1. Peace overture by Mr Vajpayee? (edit , Daily Times Lahore)
#2. A tale of two women - A Married Woman, by Manju Kapur (Reviewed
by Shailaja Neelakantan)
#3. Islamisation proposals to be discussed at NWFP Assembly
#4. Literary Giant Stirs Up A Hornet's Nest in India (John Lancaster)
#5. Peace at what price [in Nepal]? (Manjushree Thapa)
#6. Progressive South Asian Voices Against War On Iraq - Series:
- Open Appeal to Amnesty International to set up an Indpependent War
Crimes Tribunal on Iraq by Eleven Peace and Human Rights Activists of
South Asia
- Rage by Nirmalangshu Mukherji
- Dealing with the US in today's climate by Samir Kelekar
- Iraq: From the cradle of civilization to its grave by Aseem Srivastava
- The new colours of imperialism (Mushirul Hasan | April 19, 2003)
- A Way Between The Towers: Shooting and shagging, screwing and
killing (Bhaswati Chakravorty)
#7. Making A Statement Against Communal Politics : The Attack On
MKSS Shops During The VHP Bandh on 15th April 03
#8. Stabbing at communal harmony (edit, HindustanTimes, New Delhi)
#9. Federation of Atheist, rationalist and humanist associations in
A.P. on renaming of State Run TV channel (Doordarshan Hyderabad) to
SAPTAGIRI.
#10. The Nadimarg massacre was not just a gory picture. (Jessi Hempel)
#11. Pedagogy and the Future Citizen (Meenakshi Thapan)
--------------
#1.
The Daily Times
April 19, 2003
Editorial: Peace overture by Mr Vajpayee?
Speaking at a rally in heavily guarded Srinagar on Friday, India's
Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee has signalled to Pakistan that
New Delhi is prepared to extend "the hand of friendship", but he
added, significantly, that "hands should be extended from both
sides". "We want friendship and brotherhood with our neighbours
=2E...We should resolve issues through talks. All issues can be
resolved through talks, nothing can be solved through war."
What should Pakistan make of Mr Vajpayee's call for talks? On the
face of it, the gesture is a welcome development. But given the past
record of bilateral relations and the number of initiatives that have
foundered on the rocks of mutual animosity, we can be forgiven for
being slightly sceptical. Consider.
There is deep distrust on both sides. The situation has reached a
pass where the two sides can communicate and signal to each other
only during periods of one-upmanship, much like the couple George and
Martha in Albee's "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolfe," who have turned
insults into a finely honed art and cannot even perform conjugal
rites without playing games to hurt and humiliate each other. This is
exactly what we have seen happen between Pakistan and India. Is there
a way out of this?
There are two levels to the ongoing India-Pakistan conflict. One
relates to game-playing; the other to the still elusive, meaningful
task of finding a way out of the logjam. Both sides have invested
much in the first, little or nothing in the latter. Examples of
game-playing abound and we don't want to go into the details of
perfidious tactics on both sides. The question is a more basic one:
How is Mr Vajpayee's Friday overture any better, or more meaningful,
than his previous attempts at normalising with Pakistan?
What does he mean by "hands should be extended from both sides"? Is
he again harping on the old line: If Islamabad stops "cross-border
infiltration", we are willing to talk? Which is setting a
pre-condition. Or is he saying that India is setting no precondition
for a resumption of talks and neither should Pakistan, a subtle hint
at Pakistan's earlier insistence on playing up the "core" issue of
Kashmir and holding all else hostage to it? If it's the first, then
we are afraid there is not much to what he has said that he hasn't
said earlier. If, however, it's the latter, then we are talking. No
preconditions by either side is a definite advance.
In fact, given the second approach, we would like to remind Mr
Vajpayee that when General Pervez Musharraf went to Agra, he made
clear that he was prepared to talk about everything if India agreed
to his formulation that the core dispute is Kashmir. His logic was
that this fact could not be brushed under the carpet. But his
approach was more nuanced than that of any previous Pakistani head of
state: not only did he talk about an integrated dialogue on all
issues, he spoke of solutions regarding Kashmir, not any particular
solution. No one in Pakistan has signalled more clearly than General
Musharraf did in Agra, that Islamabad is amenable to appreciating the
complexity of the issue if only New Delhi would give it the space to
do so.
But the ground from under Mr Vajpayee's feet was cut by the
hard-liners in his own party. There was nothing General Musharraf
could do to prevent that, though a little less panache by him in
front of the media might just have saved the day.
We are also concerned that there is no dearth of spoilers on both
sides. Yet, silver linings are all we can hope for right now. The
United States is doing much to address the issue. A recent report
indicates Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage will be in the
region soon. In an interview to an Indian channel just two days ago,
Director for Policy Planning, Richard Haass, said that Washington is
"frustrated" by Islamabad's inability to fully stop "cross-border
infiltration". Earlier this year, during a visit to India, Ambassador
Haass told his Indian audience that New Delhi needs to begin talking
to Pakistan if it wants to realise its potential. Clearly, Washington
is weighing in on both sides. The US government was also disturbed by
the flair of India's Foreign Minister Yashwant Sinha to run off at
the mouth and talk of pre-emptive strikes against Pakistan just as
much as the Pakistani government is discreetly advising loudmouths
like Sheikh Rashid to clam up.
The world is sick of the Walpurgisnacht (Night of the Witches) in
South Asia, not least because of the existence of nuclear weapons.
Islamabad should welcome Mr Vajpayee's gesture rather than proffering
a knee-jerk reaction to it. If Mr Vajpayee is serious, let him come
up with the parameters for the talks. But if talks have to succeed,
they must move towards negotiations. A good sign are voices within
the BJP asking for a dialogue with Pakistan; similar statements have
been made by former minister Omer Abdullah, son of former chief
minister of Kashmir. The Mufti Sayeed government in held Kashmir,
whose party cadres Mr Vajpayee addressed Friday, also wants a clear
roadmap outlining the state's future. The circumstances, despite the
clouds, are propitious. Let's hope the two sides take advantage of
the tide. *
_____
#2.
Asia Times, Apr 19, 2003
BOOK REVIEW
A tale of two women
A Married Woman, by Manju Kapur
Reviewed by Shailaja Neelakantan
Manju Kapur's second novel, A Married Woman, is set in the time
leading up to the destruction of the Babri Masjid in India in 1992.
It deals with the crisis of a middle-class woman from Delhi caught in
an unhappy marriage.
Aastha has had her share of schoolgirl heartaches, but once over
them, she looks forward to married life with a nice, romantic dream
boy. She happily agrees to an arranged marriage with an
America-returned MBA (master of business administration), Hemant, who
seems the complete antithesis of a traditional Indian man. When
Aastha is pregnant, the couple inform her mother, who hopes the child
will be a son. "But Ma, I want a daughter ... In America there is no
difference between boys and girls. How can this country get anywhere
if we go on treating our women this way?" says Hemant, to Aastha's
(and her mother's) amazement.
Aastha does have a daughter and the family prospers until her husband
inexplicably transforms into a cliche of the male chauvinist pig, in
one throwaway sentence: "Somewhere along the way Hemant's attitude to
Aastha changed. She told herself it was only slightly, but it
oppressed her." Hemant now wants the second child to be a son. When
Aastha tells Hemant that his mother has engaged a priest to perform
rituals to ensure she gives birth to a son, Hemant sees nothing wrong
with it. Aastha wonders aloud what would happen if she has another
daughter. "Don't worry, sweetheart, then we will try again, it's
perfectly all right," he says. She protests, saying she can't keep
trying because it would be difficult for her to continue her teaching
job if she were constantly pregnant. "Oh-ho, what is there in
teaching? Hardly a serious job, you just go, talk to some children
about poems and stories, organize a few clubs and come back. If you
do feel it is so important, all the more reason not to mind if Mummy
does some puja. Who knows, it may yield good results."
Women caught in the traditional-versus-modern bind are familiar
terrain for Kapur, whose debut novel, Difficult Daughters, has a
rebellious heroine who becomes the second wife of a man she loves,
even though her family turns against her. That novel, which won the
2000 Commonwealth Writers Prize for the best first book (Eurasia),
has a fluid narrative, vivid historical details and a credible
protagonist. Unfortunately, Kapur's second book has a tardy
narrative, no believable characters and spotty grammar.
When Hemant transforms into a bad guy, Aastha starts to feels
unappreciated, condescended to, and bored. Aastha, like Gloria
Steinem once said, doesn't breed well in captivity. But Aastha's
angst is tiresome and problematic to the plot. Aastha was never the
rebellious sort and all she wanted to do was marry a romantic, rich
guy. Her father is more of a feminist than she is. Even more
troublesome is Aastha's sudden makeover into a political animal, by
virtue of her meeting a political activist, Aijaz Akhtar Khan, who
alerts her to the growing religious fundamentalism in India. Aijaz
and his street-theater troupe are burned alive by a fundamentalist
mob and the incident makes Aastha more committed to the cause. Her
transformation into a flag-waving, protest-marcher fighting
sectarianism is farcical. Virmati, the heroine of Difficult
Daughters, is a consistent character. Aastha isn't.
It gets worse. In a strange plot twist, Aastha and Aijaz's widow
Pipeelika start having a torrid affair. Pipeelika keeps taunting
Aastha for not leaving her husband and says more than once, "Why did
I think it would be different with a woman?" Why indeed? In the brief
description the reader gets of Pipeelika's married life, there seems
nothing chauvinistic about Aijaz. Pipeelika was annoyed that Aijaz
delayed telling his parents they were married (he is Muslim and she
Hindu), but that is hardly gender-specific behavior. Aastha's and
Pipeelika's affair ends, as does, thankfully, the book.
The destruction of the Babri Masjid as the backdrop to the novel is
ineffective, because it is inconsequential. Long tracts about
Hindu-Muslim relations make their appearance in the novel, but they
are stilted and seem out of place. Some of the paragraphs sound as if
they have been lifted straight out of a pamphlet.
A Married Woman, at its best, is a weak, proto-feminist novel, and at
its worst is a pulp romance. Gloria Steinem once said, "A woman
without a man is like a fish without a bicycle." Steinem got married
three years ago. Aastha returns to her husband.
A Married Woman by Manju Kapur, Faber and Faber, 2002. ISBN: 0 571
21566. Price: US$17.29; 272 pages.
______
#3.
The News International, April 19 2003
http://www.jang.com.pk/thenews/apr2003-daily/19-04-2003/national/n5.htm
NWFP Assembly to discuss Islamisation proposals on 21st
By our correspondent
PESHAWAR: The recommendations of the Nifaz-e-Shariat Council, besides
eight other resolutions relating to the federal government, would be
presented in the forthcoming assembly session of NWFP Assembly
requisitioned by opposition. It will be held on April 21.
The eight resolutions were already presented by the NSC to the MMA
government with its detail recommendations to implement Islamic
system in the province. The MMA provincial cabinet has already
approved the council report and assured to present it in the
forthcoming session.
The joint opposition, which had earlier, obtained signature from its
43 members for requisitioning session, delayed its submission in
assembly secretariat, when the chairman of the council Mufti Ghulamur
Rehman, presented his council report to the government.
The opposition said that the government would have to summon assembly
session to adopt Islamisation of the province bill but later they had
to take signatures from its members once again to discuss their seven
points agenda; which includes NFC award, provincial finance
commission, net profit on hydel power generation, Tameer-e-Sarhad
Programme under which the MMA government has allocated Rs 5 million
to each MPA, contract appointments, large-scale irregularities in
appointments and transfers in government departments, price hike,
lawlessness.
In the first resolution, the NWFP Assembly has been asked to
recommend the federal government to amend article 193 of the
constitution to appoint Ulema judges in High Courts. The appointment
of Ulema judges should be made keeping in view the nature of work and
number of judges in every province. With the same time, it suggest
that the Hudood cases, appeals should be brought under the
jurisdiction of High Courts and those cases should be heard by the
bench comprising on Ulema.
In the second resolution, the federal government has been asked to
stop delaying tactics in eliminating interest-based system in the
country. To purge the country's economy from interests, all rules
regarding interests should be abolished and enforce Islamic financial
system according to the report of Islamic Ideology Council and
Quran-0-Sunnah.
The third resolution will recommend the federal government for the
permanent appointment of judges at Federal Shariat Court and same
facilities for them as were being given to other judges. The
discrimination between Ulema and regular judges should be eliminated,
with the appointments of ulema judges, the court should be declared
permanent appointment of ulema judges in Shariat Appellate Bench and
they should be given the same facilities being enjoyed by the judges
of the Supreme Court of Pakistan. The same resolution said
subordinate courts under the Federal Shariat Court should be
established at provincial level like those of the High Courts.
In fourth resolution, the federal government will be asked to make
the Qisas and Hudood laws practicable, as the existing British system
could not fulfil the requirement of justice. The fifth resolution
asked the government to declare the list of joint legislation in
Pakistan as provincial legislative list. The sixth resolution asked
the government to end obscenity and vulgarity on electronic media,
seventh asked to declare Friday as weekly official holiday.
______
#4.
The Washington Post , April 17, 2003; Page A19
Literary Giant Stirs Up A Hornet's Nest in India
Khushwant Singh Says Hindu Nationalism Poses Grave Threat
PHOTO: Singh, 88, has special criticism for an organization he
considers fascist, and which gave rise to India's ruling party. (File
Photo/John Moore -- AP)
By John Lancaster
Washington Post Foreign Service
NEW DELHI -- "Are you a drinking man? Good. Come at seven."
No surprises there. Last year, after a half-century in India's
literary limelight, author and journalist Khushwant Singh announced
that he was retiring from public life "on my own terms, with creature
comforts and Scotch."
Cocktail hour finds him sprawled comfortably in his favorite
armchair, feet propped on a wicker stool and a glass of Black Label
in his hand.
=46ew would begrudge him the right. A legendary bon vivant who
abandoned a career in law to become one of India's most celebrated
and prolific writers, Singh has published more than 100 books, from
novels to collections of bawdy jokes to serious scholarly works such
as his two-volume history of the Sikhs, now in its 20th printing.
But at the age of 88, Singh is proving that he can still make a splash.
In a controversial new book that may turn out to be his last, Singh
argues that the rise of right-wing Hindu nationalism -- as manifested
in discrimination and sometimes violence against the country's large
Muslim minority -- poses a grave and perhaps irreversible threat to
India's future as a secular, pluralistic democracy. The book's
apocalyptic title: "The End of India."
Singh is hardly the first liberal writer to sound alarms about the
dangers of mixing politics and religion in India, and most of his
slender new book consists of essays that have already been published
elsewhere. But Singh's stature as a literary giant in the sunset of
his career, and the unrelenting bleakness of his predictions --
outlined in a lengthy new introduction -- have propelled the book to
the top of India's nonfiction bestseller lists in less than a month.
"India is going to the dogs, and unless a miracle saves us, the
country will break up," Singh writes in the introduction. "It will
not be Pakistan or any other foreign power that will destroy us. We
will commit hara-kiri."
The villain of Singh's narrative is the Rashtriya Sawayamsevak Sangh,
or RSS, the Hindu-nationalist organization that drew partial
inspiration from the Fascist movements of Europe between the world
wars -- and whose many offshoots include India's ruling Bharatiya
Janata Party. "It could be dismissed as a lunatic group as long as it
remained on the fringes of mainstream politics," Singh writes. "Not
anymore."
Ram Madhav, the chief RSS spokesman here, said he was "shocked" by
the book when he read it a few weeks ago. "These are very
irresponsible statements coming from a writer of the stature of Mr.
Khushwant Singh," he said in an interview. "The RSS has never made
enemies of or targeted any minorities. All we have said is that Hindu
self-respect should be honored by everyone."
Singh's sky-is-falling analysis also has detractors among some
erstwhile admirers. "I don't want to remember Khushwant Singh by the
impression this book leaves behind," one reviewer wrote in the
liberal magazine Outlook. "It would be horrible and cruel if this
book ends up as his swan song."
Among other criticisms, the reviewer described the book as "trite,"
"unreadable" and burdened with "assertion rather than analysis."
India Today, the country's largest newsmagazine, was scarcely more
charitable. "Somehow, the doomsday clock ticking away on Kushwant's
desk doesn't ring right," the reviewer wrote. "Certainly recent
events, most notably the rise of Hindu militancy, are a cause for
concern. But no one can seriously buy his argument that the country
is about to break up."
Singh said he isn't bothered by critics who find his conclusions
overwrought. "India Today said it will give you nightmares -- that's
the whole idea, to warn the country," he said.
Still, he added, a little clarification is in order: "I didn't say
the end of India. I said the end of secular India."
So what about the title? "I didn't give the title -- the publisher
did. He was trying to sell it."
Singh came relatively late to the profession that would make him
famous. A member of the Sikh religious minority, he was born into a
well-to-do family in what is now Pakistan and, after studying at
London University, set up a law practice in Lahore. That lasted until
1947, when the partition of the subcontinent into India and Pakistan
triggered an explosion of communal violence that forced millions to
flee their homes.
"I had no intention of leaving," recalled Singh, who by that time was
married with two small children. "I thought it would all blow over."
=46inally a British police officer, a friend from college, convinced
Singh that he had no choice but to leave. He gave his house keys to a
Muslim friend and "that was it."
After moving to New Delhi, where his father was a successful property
developer, Singh joined the Indian diplomatic corps, taking posts in
Canada and London. He never had any regrets about leaving the law. "A
common prostitute renders more service to society than a lawyer," he
wrote in his autobiography, published last year. "If anything the
comparison is unfair to the whore."
Singh launched his literary career while living overseas, beginning
work on his history of the Sikhs and writing his first novel, "Train
to Pakistan," which dealt with the themes of communalism that would
inform much of his subsequent work. It was published to international
acclaim in 1956.
In the intervening decades, Singh has edited several leading
magazines and newspapers, including the Hindustan Times, for which he
still writes a weekly column. He also taught briefly at Princeton and
even found time to serve in Parliament from 1980 to 1986.
Asked about his many hats, Singh replied, "Must I have only one? I
wear a six-yard turban to cover a lot of sins."
Despite his record of scholarship and literary achievement, Singh has
cultivated a public persona as something of a scamp. His
autobiography is filled with sexual misadventures, several involving
prostitutes. His 1999 novel, "In the Company of Woman," could just as
well have been titled, "Fantasies of an Octogenarian," as Singh put
it in an author's note.
"When you meet a woman you wonder what she'll be like in bed," he
explained to an interviewer at the time. "My mind is no dirtier than
most men's. I am honest and I say it. Fantasizing is a common
phenomenon and there's no censorship here."
Singh's public profile has diminished in recent years. His wife,
Kaval, died last year after 62 years of marriage, and since then he
has largely honored his pledge to "opt out of the rat race." He
spends most of his days in his ground-floor apartment, surrounded by
books and paintings of bare-breasted women. An illustrated copy of
the Kama Sutra sits on the coffee table.
=46or several hours each day, Singh works on a novel that he began two
years ago, writing it out in longhand on a yellow legal pad. But the
project, which deals with "bigotry and fanaticism," is "getting
nowhere," Singh said matter-of-factly. He spends most afternoons in
his small garden. Unannounced visitors are discouraged.
"I can be very rough with people who arrive without an appointment," he said=
=2E
But if old age and infirmity have taken their toll -- Singh gave up
tennis two years ago after concluding that opponents were humoring
him -- Singh's eyes still sparkle mischievously from behind his
steel-rimmed spectacles. And he still has the power to provoke.
Sipping his Scotch the other day while reflecting on the themes he
outlined in his book, he compared the situation in India today to
that of Germany in the waning days of the Weimar Republic. When Hindu
nationalists speak of restoring the country's lost honor, he said,
"the targets are really the Muslims. They're the Jews, what the Jews
were to the Nazis."
=46or evidence, he added, one need only turn on the television, where
"every fourth channel is spouting Hinduism, and two or three are
entirely devoted to astrology. Can anything be more backward?"
Singh voiced particular distress at the role of mainstream
politicians, among them Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee, in
promoting the nationalist doctrine of Hindutva, or Hindu-ness.
"He can be so damn sweet and convincing," Singh said of Vajpayee, an
acquaintance of his. But "before a receptive Hindu audience he says
something quite different."
On the other hand, Singh said, the prime minister may not be wholly
beyond redemption. "He is a drinking man," Singh said approvingly.
"He's more human than the others."
=A9 2003 The Washington Post Company
_____
#5.
Nepali Times | 18 -24 April 2003
Peace at what price?
Ten weeks into the ceasefire, the action has shifted to Kathmandu
streets. In the countryside, victims of war wait for the truth to be
told.
MANJUSHREE THAPA in JUMLA
Nepalis want peace-but at any price? Not if you listen to the people
of the war-torn hinterlands. In Dailekh and Kalikot and Jumla, people
who have seen family members and neighbours killed either by the
Maoists or by state security forces are asking what will be done, in
the peace process, to redress these killings.
While in faraway Kathmandu the government announces its negotiating
team, the villagers ask whether all the war dead will ever be
accounted for. While political parties and the palace jostle for
advantage, the Jumlis want to know whether their families will be
compensated. "What will happen in cases where civilians were wrongly
branded Maoists and killed by the state?" asks a teacher in Haudi. A
farmer from Pakha asks if compensation is on the agenda for the peace
talks. In Tatopani, a young Maoist cadre asks why human rights
organisations have not documented all the violations of the past
year: "Will they ever come to find out what has happened?"
These raw questions are not being heard in Kathmandu, which in the
past few weeks has been as giddy with bad politics as ever. Now that
the Maoists have come above-ground, the media, intellectuals, NGOs
and other civil society actors are in a mad rush to kiss and make up,
in between attending conflict-resolution talk-shops. At his first
press conference, even Baburam Bhattarai became coy when asked about
IGP Krishna Mohan Shrestha's death. He preferred, he said, not to
dwell on the individuals who had been killed in the war. It would be
more constructive to look forward than back, he said.
This would obviously help exonerate his party members from the
murders that they have committed. It would also help exonerate the
state security forces, which, if made to look back, would have to
answer allegations of rape, torture, disappearances, arbitrary
detention, and killings of thousands of civilians and unarmed Maoists.
Do we really want this kind of a "quick-fix" peace? It would be
dangerous, say human rights activists. "The trauma of war has to be
addressed all the way down to the village level," says Bhogendra
Sharma of the rights group, CVICT. "The government must set up a
truth and reconciliation commission."
Subodh Pyakurel of INSEC agrees. "The process of truth and
reconciliation should begin the day the peace talks begin. At the
very minimum, every violation must be documented. Those who committed
crimes must take responsibility for them. And those who suffered at
their hands must forgive them." The motto 'Forgive, but forget not'
motivated the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa.
International human rights experts point out that achieving truth and
reconciliation is a drawn-out, complicated process, especially in
countries such as Nepal, with weak justice systems. The push for
peace can make people compromise on discovering the truth. "The
biggest danger at times like these is that the day they sign the
peace agreement, all past violations will be forgotten," says
Pyakurel. "Sentimentality will take over. Someone will say,
'Whatever's happened has happened. Now we are united.' From that day
on, all the perpetrators of war crimes and of human rights violations
will get blanket immunity."
The Mallik Commission report of 1990 stands as an infamous example.
That report on government repression during the People's Movement was
buried soon after its preparation, an atmosphere of moral compromise
tainted all the political parties from the start of the second
democratic era.
An Amnesty International report last year cited state-supported
intimidation of a young girl allegedly raped in the Chisapani army
barracks. If this glaring case could not be countered, who will press
for the truth about the 7,000+ dead, and the other casualties of war?
"That doubt is well founded," Pyakurel admits. "The human rights
community has its weaknesses. Because of our past affiliations, our
present political loyalties, the state favours that we depend on, and
the relationship between the state, the parties and international
partners, we sometimes cannot fulfil our duties."
"I won't say that a truth and reconciliation commission here would be
unsuccessful," he concludes. "But it may not be as successful as it
should be."
_____
#6.
PROGRESSIVE SOUTH ASIAN VOICES AGAINST WAR ON IRAQ - SERIES:
http://www.mnet.fr/aiindex/iraq/
- Open Appeal to Amnesty International to set up an Indpependent War
Crimes Tribunal on Iraq by Eleven Peace and Human Rights Activists of
South Asia (April 18, 2003)
http://www.mnet.fr/aiindex/iraq/safhrOnIraq170403.html
- Rage by Nirmalangshu Mukherji (April 18, 2003)
http://www.mnet.fr/aiindex/iraq/NMukherji180403.html
- Dealing with the US in today's climate by Samir Kelekar (April 18, 2003)
http://www.mnet.fr/aiindex/iraq/Kelkar180403.html
- Iraq: From the cradle of civilization to its grave by Aseem
Srivastava (April 17, 2003)
http://www.mnet.fr/aiindex/iraq/Aseem170403.html
o o o
The new colours of imperialism (Mushirul Hasan | April 19, 2003)
http://www.thehindu.com/2003/04/19/stories/2003041900271000.htm
o o o
The Telegraph, April 19, 2003
A Way Between The Towers: Shooting and shagging, screwing and killing
REVIEW ARTICLE BHASWATI CHAKRAVORTY
http://www.telegraphindia.com/1030419/asp/opinion/story_1886240.asp
_____
#7.
THE ATTACK ON MKSS SHOPS DURING THE VHP ( TOGADIA ) BANDH ON THE 15TH OF
APRIL 03: MAKING A STATEMENT AGAINST COMMUNAL POLITICS
When Togadia chose Ajmer to distribute his version of the trishul, a
weapon that can kill, the local Hindutva elements started to strut
around. He gives venomous energy and a sense of legitimacy to the lumpin
elements in society. They get inspired by his abusive language and his
hatred filled dreams of power. So what happened with the call for the VHP
bandh on the 15th was not surprising. We decided to keep open the Mazdoor
Kisan Kirana Stores- fair price shops run by the MKSS in Jawaja,
Surajpura, Todgarh and Bhim. While Bhim was quiet partly because of firm
action taken against Kalu Ram Sankla, self styled don of the Shiv Sena
Commando Force, and Todgarh was quiet too, Jawaja and Surajpura got the
brunt of the wounded pride of the VHP and its conglomerate, partly as a
fallout of the Sankla episode.
Kaluram Sankla, self styled president of the Shiv Sena Commando force
came and held a ^"dharma sabha^' in Bhim in February 2003. The purpose of
the sabha was actually to publicly distribute swords and Pharsas (an
axe like weapon) accompanied by filthy hate speeches. When the MKSS filed
=46IRS against him, and demanded strong action, the government booked him
first under section 153 A and then later under NSA. Bhim now minds how it
treats public spaces and fears the consequences of participating in the
Sangh Parivar^"s aggressive and unlawful tactics. Though like most small
towns it is still a BJP base and vote bank.
On the 15th of April, the MKSS shops in Jawaja and Surajpura opened as
usual .When they were ordered to pull their shutters down in support of
the bandh to protest against Togadia^"s arrest in Ajmer , they refused to
comply. The MKSS workers were then abused and threatened by a small mob
of 50 odd lumpin elements led by Sita Singh, BJP Ajmer Zila Parishad
member, Mool Singh aspirant for the MLA ticket from the BJP, and Prabhu
Singh Panchayat Samiti member Jawaja. They shouted communal abuses at all
the MKSS comrades, in particular against Chunni Singh. The SHO and the
police were present and tried to persuade the MKSS to shut the shop down
for the sake of peace and maintaining ^"law and order^'!&nbs
There has been tension since then; the younger lumpin elements keeping
the bazaar closed for 3 days after that, threatening the other shop
keepers and preventing them from opening their shops. The 20 who were
booked u/s 151 of the IPC have been let out on bail and the other five
have been re-arrested on the 17th of April.
The MKSS has been involved with anti-communal activites since 1992. This
began after the demolition of the Babri Masjid. We spent a year doing
little else. The shop which was set up a few weeks earlier in Bhim,
became an important entry point into the communal Hindutva politics of
Bhim. We used the shop to sit, literally in the middle of the stronghold
of the BJP and the RSS; a constant irritant. We showed ^-ram ke naam^"
on a video screen and took the constitutional oath for a secular
democratic India, in the hot bed of the RSS stronghold. The disgruntled
were angry and aggressive but could do nothing. At that time too the MKSS
had refused to pull the shutters down when the BJP had called for a bandh
to protest against the arrest of LK Advani. The MKSS shop was open to
business and the market opened within hours.
The shops have had ups and downs, problems with this and that and there
are times when we wonder whether we should carry on with this
^"commercial^' activity. But once again the shops have given us space and
helped us make a very strong statement opposing communal politics. The
majority of the community in the villages of that area are not in
sympathy with the bandh anyway. This has been proved by the sale proceeds
in the last 3 days, despite calls for the boycott of the MKSS shop. At
the end of the day the till added to over 12000 rupees, twice the normal
daily earnings of the Mazdoor Kisan Kirana Store!
Most importantly the sangh parivar is exposing its real intent to
encroach on all public spaces and its inability to be democratic and
accept contradictory points of view. By the MKSS standing up to their
bullying, the people in the area have got opportunities to join the
debate, and in effect, expose the shallowness of the support for these
fundamentalist causes.
We are still in the middle of this incident in many ways . We do not
quite know what turn it will take. But we will continue to state our
point of view and confront these forces. We will keep you posted on the
happenings
Nikhil , Aruna, Shankar, Chunni Singh, Hanswarup, Narayan, Ram Singh,
Sushila, Sua, Raju, Teju, Ranjit, Bhagwan, Narender, Viram Singh,Lakshman
(MKSS)
Mazdoor Kisan Shakti Sangathan (MKSS)
Village: Devdungri, Post: Barar,
District Rajsamand
Rajasthan, Pin Code-313341
India.
Tel:91-2951-243254, 91-2951-250655,(messages) telefax:91-2951-250180
=46ax:91-1463-288206 (attn:aruna roy)
_____
#8.
The Hindustan Times, April 19, 2003 | Editorial
Stabbing at communal harmony
Is Rajasthan the next communal flashpoint after Gujarat? In the
recent past, several places in Rajasthan have witnessed ugly scenes
which stopped short of riots mainly due to a watchful administration.
By putting a ban on carrying or distributing trishuls, Chief Minister
Ashok Gehlot has shown his commitment to those who seem equally
determined to inflame communal passions before the next elections due
in November.
In the past four years, over 10,000 trishuls have been ceremonially
distributed and fiery speeches made in carefully selected minority or
tribal areas. Bhilwara was an obvious choice in 2001 after a Hindu
mob demolished remains of a disused mosque that stood for centuries,
curiously, in the middle of a large temple complex. Phagi near Jaipur
was chosen right after local Dalits were prevented by upper-caste
Hindus from bathing in the village pond. Gangapur in Sawai Madhopur
witnessed trishul rallies after three people were killed in police
firing when a mob tried to block the Moharram procession in Godhara's
aftermath. Instead of denying charges, the VHP claims that the actual
number of trishuls doled out in Rajasthan since 1998 is 70,000.
Notwithstanding its larger-than-life postures, it was difficult to
ignore the VHP's claim that it was determined to 'arm' over one lakh
people in Alwar district which has not seen a major riot in decades
despite a large population of Meo Muslims.
The method is to take trishuls to areas of potential or spontaneous
conflict and wait for a conflagration. What began as a dull campaign
is now becoming a frenzy as polls approach. RSS chief Mohan Bhagwat,
the VHP's Giriraj Kishore and Ashok Singhal are among the
rabble-rousers who have descended over Rajasthan after Praveen
Togadia's arrest. The entire Sangh parivar, including the BJP, has
vowed to intensify the illegal campaign. Poll gimmick or otherwise,
it's time the trishul controversy - and the way it's being bandied
about - pricks the conscience of the BJP leadership.
_____
#9.
Date: Sun, 13 Apr 2003 19:04:54 -0400
=46rom: Innaiah.N coordinator, Federation of Atheist, rationalist and
humanist associations in A.P.
We the member organisations of the Federation of Atheist, Rationalist and
Humanist Associations of Andhra Pradesh are astonished that Doordarshan
Hyderabad has changed its name to SAPTAGIRI.
Saptagiri, meaning Seven Hills, is clearly a reference to the 'Seven Hills'
of Tirumala, where the temple for Lord Venkateswara is located. The Tirumala
Tirupati Devasthanam, the second richest religious centre in the world after
the Vatican, does considerable damage to India's progress by propagating
through its publications superstitions and blind faith.
Doordarshan certainly needs a change of image and needs to attract more
viewers for its programmes. A public service channel like Doordarshan should
urgently professionalise its production, take steps to recruit comptetent
anchors, and has also an obligation to make programme content more relevant
to people's needs, in an illiterate country like India. The government has
now received Prasar Bharathi's recommendations (under the Chairmanship of
Veteran Journalist and Hintutva advocate M.NV. Kamath) which include
reintroduction of a licence fee to finance DD's programmes.
Being financed by public funds like the present way or in future through
licence fees imposes obligations, and FARA demands that instead of pandering
to Hindutva, Doordarshan fulfill its legal and consitutional obligations of
impartial news reporting, and impartial programming. Doordarshan Hyderabad
should immediately revert to its well known name or reveal the market
surveys undertaken which have resulted in this change of name and the
religious identities of those involved in the decision making.
In a media and entertainment world where songs and dances are taking
precedence over knowledge and impartial news, Doordarshan must live up to
the uniqe ideals to fulfil which it has been established. This includes the
non-negotiable obligation of reflecting India's plural culture and
non-favouritism to any religious denomination or community, be it a majority
or a minority.
_____
#10.
Indian Express, April 19, 2003
What lies beneath
The Nadimarg massacre was not just a gory picture. Jessi Hempel still
can't find the right words for its caption.
Like many American journalists, I hopped onto a plane last month to
cover a conflict, but I didn't end up in Baghdad. Instead, I went to
Kashmir, that frequent nuclear flashpoint forgotten as soon as
tension heats up in another part of the world.
I'd come as part of a university trip to spend a week interviewing
women who were grieving. Instead, the day after I arrived, I found
myself in a car being driven at top speed to a village where more
than half the residents lay dead.
The two-hour trip was my first introduction to the Valley. Small
girls in headscarves lined up in schoolyards for morning prayers.
Boys in woollen coats played cricket. Against the backdrop of the
hills, spread the yellow-blossomed mustard fields and spindly apple
orchards. More than that, I felt for the first time, how both my US
passport and my shoulder-length blonde hair can weigh heavier than
they actually are.
I was on my way to Nadimarg, a village so small it hadn't earned its
place on the Valley's 14-year-old blood-soaked map until that
morning. Hours earlier, my local guide had told me that 24 Hindu
Pandits were brutally slaughtered in the Valley's worst massacre in
three years. ''Do you want to come with me to cover it?'' he'd asked.
Earlier that morning, sitting in a room in a deserted hotel in
downtown Srinagar, I'd watched BBC TV reporting the Coalition's
advances in southern Iraq, I had read the local newspaper's
front-page headlines about how the entire city would be closed in
protest against the US. How could I want to weave my way through the
Kashmir landscape to see this horrific event? But I grabbed a bandana
to cover my hair and jumped into the car.
As we passed through villages, we passed young men gathered to
express ''anti-US'' sentiment. In the village of Pulwama, a growing
crowd pressed against our car, raising their fiery effigy of George
Bush. The turquoise bandana didn't seem enough to hide my identity
from a crowd that saw Bush's image in my own.
As we neared, a stick hit the window of our car. I ducked into the
foot well of the backseat while my fellow classmate, Mike McPhate,
averted his face. Though he's travelled in Kashmir before, he later
admitted he was shaken by the incident. Our US passports, once
enviable to most travellers, suddenly felt like our greatest
liabilities.
=46ar more frightening was the massacre site. Nadimarg was tucked so
far into the countryside that dirt roads gave way to a pot-holed path
upon which large military vehicles moved back and forth. Army
officers stood at attention every few feet. I wandered past the
journalists and the police to where one woman wailed at the head of
her dead husband.
His sheet-covered corpse, along with 23 others, formed a long line of
bright white cotton rectangles, which stood in sharp contrast to the
muted earth tones of a town that hadn't seen new development in many
decades. The last time I'd reported on a death, the American victim
had had a short illness. I saw her only in a funeral home casket, her
body preserved and her face made up so she looked like she was taking
a nap. This death was different.
Beneath the sheets, most victims had been mutilated, their insides
spilling into the dirt, their faces unrecognisable. Someone directed
me to the Chinar tree across from the pink Hindu temple where the
villagers had been rounded up and shot.
=46irst I saw a woman's shoe, a lantern, and a pair of flip flops; then
I noticed the blood. It hadn't yet dried, and it welled up in puddles
between brown and yellow leaves. From the little crime reporting I
have done, this scene would necessitate yellow tape, white chalk, and
forensic scientists who would take samples from these items to a
laboratory to eventually help identify the murderers.
But two days later when I returned, the shoes hadn't yet been moved,
the blood had become brown and crusty. The dead leaves had covered a
lot of the stains.
Later in the morning, a paramedic moved down the row of bodies with a
silver dish, performing a Hindu ritual by spooning water into the
mouths of the deceased. As he pulled the sheet from a body toward the
centre of the line, the miniature features of a child appeared, his
hair matted against a graying forehead. As the paramedic spooned
water into his mouth, blood gurgled up and spilled from his lips.
My job as a journalist was to document the situation through words
and photographs. But my fingers remained frozen, my camera hanging
limp from my neck. My knees buckled and swayed, and vomit rose to the
back of my mouth. Mike and I were the only Western journalists to
record the day's events. I was the only woman. I felt I needed to
toughen up, to brace myself against my emotions. If the past two days
were any indication, covering death was a way of life for reporters
in the Valley.
As I looked up, I noticed a steadily growing crowd of Muslim
neighbours. They came walking along the thin path that connects this
cluster of homes to the Muslim neighbourhood across the gorge. In
their faces were fear and agony. They sat with the survivors, brought
them water and held their hands and heads.
As per stereotypes I'd acquired through things I'd read, I'd always
thought that Hindus and Muslims didn't get along. I entertained
images of vicious Islamic militants perpetrating hatred towards their
neighbours. But in Nadimarg, Muslim neighbours came by the hundreds
to express their grief and outrage. One Hindu survivor told me the
Muslims had planned for the Hindu funerals and helped with
arrangements for the bodies' cremations.
I approached some Hindu women on a blanket and one woman, the aunt of
the two deceased children, beckoned to me to take her photograph. As
I touched her shoulder, she placed both hands on my arm. I wanted
something that would allow me to say that I was trying to understand
her grief but I had nothing except a camera. So I took scores of
photographs, pictures I have trouble looking at now that I'm back in
the United States.
I watched politicians show up late in the afternoon, deliver their
speeches and leave. It seemed the event had become a rallying point
for their political agendas. In fact, the following day, L.K. Advani
visited Nadimarg. I'd had the chance to interview Advani in Delhi
just days before and he'd seemed so affable in his grand North Block
office as he shook our hands.
In Nadimarg, he shook his fist, blaming India's ''neighbour'' for the
event and inferring that the Hindu Pandits should leave for Jammu if
they felt ''insecure''. To be fair to him, however, he did mention
that an exodus of Hindus from the Valley was ''what the enemy
wanted''.
As I mingled among the villagers, an old man asked where I was from.
I paused, thought, then lied: France. ''Good,'' he said. ''They're
with us.'' Never misrepresent yourself, that's what we are taught as
journalists. But for that fleeting moment, my pangs of guilt were
buried under my fears of security. I spent the late afternoon on a
grassy hill some 50 feet from the bodies, smoking cigarettes even
though I don't smoke. The Kashmiri journalist who was my guide told
me he was 32. He said 70 per cent of his nursery school class had
lost their lives to this conflict. Every time I looked up, it seemed
some soldier's gun was pointed directly at my head, and I kept
shifting position to steer myself clear of their potential lines of
fire.
My guide pulled folded graph paper from his wallet and read from a
poem he'd written: ''Before Satan gets you, get the hell out of this
place.''
Now that I'm back in the US, I read the body counts plastered on the
front page of our local newspaper: 136 British and US soldiers. CNN
has posted each of their pictures on its website with their names,
ages, and the way that they died. I see the victorious picture
postcards from the streets of Baghdad and Tikrit, of a child kissing
a US soldier, of an adult hugging a Marine. And I wonder where the
truth lies, is there something beyond the frame of these pictures
that didn't make it to the camera lens? Or am I reading too much into
these simple scenes?
On the night of the massacre, I returned to my hotel room exhausted.
If I were at home, I would surely have participated in San Francisco
street protests against the war. But on the way back to Srinagar, my
heart sped up in fear whenever we passed through a village where
there might be a demonstration.
I borrowed a headscarf to wear and spent the remainder of the week
clumsily trying to prevent it from slipping off my head. Later that
evening, I watched the Academy Awards from the safety of my hotel
room. Steve Martin made jokes about Bush. American movie stars
paraded across a stage in dresses that cost more than my college
education.
I sought refuge in the frivolity of an event. And when I closed my
eyes, I saw a woman's shoe dripping in blood against the foot of a
Chinar tree. I still see that picture, I search for the right words
for its caption.
The writer, a graduate student at the University of California,
Berkeley, and her colleague, Mike McPhate, covered the Nadimarg
massacre for salon.com
_____
#11.
Economic and Poilitical Weekly (Bombay)
April 12, 2003
Pedagogy and the Future Citizen
A primary institution through which values and norms are
simultaneously constituted and reproduced in society is the school.
While conceptual categories such as the educational code, pedagogic
work, pedagogic authority and so on have been examined as essential
components of schooling practices that further relations of power and
social control, it is contended here that the pedagogic encounter
that does not exclusively take place in the location and context of
the school is critical to this process.
Meenakshi Thapan
One aspect of the current war being waged by the US in Iraq is the
manner in which the Muslim and 'uncivilised' other has been carefully
constructed into an untrustworthy and alien foe. Although supporters
of the American president may cry themselves hoarse about Saddam's
vile dictatorship as being the single most convincing reason for the
use of force, there is no doubt that they have succeeded in the
othering, and exclusion, of Muslims across the world from what they
consider the civilised and modern world. Civilised nations, it
appears, must therefore go to war with the barbaric and uncivilised
in their laudatory attempts to curtail the spread of what they
consider immoral and destructive behaviour. In such a construction,
normative definitions of 'right' values and morals, 'right' judgments
and forms of ideal citizenship, abound in the already fractured
domain of the national and international imaginary. These values are
constructed not only by the politics of international coalitions but
are also embedded in national cultures and practices and find
legitimacy in the manner in which they are reproduced through state
and other institutions in society.
A primary institution through which values and norms are
simultaneously constituted and reproduced in society is the school.
The relationship between pedagogy and citizenship is premised on the
relationship between pedagogy and values that has been examined in
the context of school textbooks in terms of the manner in which they
reflect and identify the constituents of citizenship within the
parameters of the dominant ideologies of society. In schools, notions
of citizenship are embedded within the ethics of citizenship, namely,
what constitutes a good citizen and normative definitions of
citizenship that prevail in terms such as 'ek achha nagrik', whether
this takes place textually or in the everyday discourse of schools in
India. The self is constructed in terms of a normative value placed
on relationship to the nation in terms of the components of selfhood,
citizenship and nation-building. Schooling produces through excessive
specialisation, and clearly demarcated and strictly maintained
boundaries, an 'abhorrence of mixed categories, blurred identities
and intolerance of ambiguity' as Rubina Saigol, the well known
Pakistani sociologist tells us, which results in the construction of
pure and unmixed social categories.
We find that this takes place not only through the habitus but also
through processes of social reproduction in schools. However,
although conceptual categories such as the educational code,
pedagogic work, pedagogic authority, and so on, have been examined as
essential components of schooling practices that further relations of
power and social control, I contend that the pedagogic encounter that
does not exclusively take place in the location and context of the
school is critical to this process. The pedagogic encounter indicates
the process of transmission which is critical to life in school. Such
transmission is not however a one-way process but an encounter in
which both the pedagogue and the pupil are simultaneously engaged.
Such an encounter is also not limited spatially to the school and
includes, for example, historically, the colonialist discourse on
educating natives as well as nationalist interventions in educational
practice. It is located also in the family in the process of
socialisation practices that lead, for example, to the constitution
of gendered identities and reproduction of patriarchy. The pedagogic
encounter is therefore the process of communication through which
knowledge and culture is communicated, contested, revised,
appropriated or challenged; and it becomes crucial to understand this
process in terms of the socio-political underpinnings of the
different contexts and locations within which such encounters take
place. In the contemporary public and social discourse, these include
the space within which the creation of the notion of citizen as
protector of national honour takes place, viewed through coloured
lens, and a valorisation of aspects of relations between self and
nation that emphasise honour, integrity, purity and above all,
dignity.
Who now constitutes the 'good' citizen? It is significant that in
this post-colonial society, the good citizen remains one who seeks to
protect national honour and liberate the nation from foreign
domination of different kinds. The 'achha nagrik' is now one who
emphasises the pure, the constant, the dominant in terms of what is
sacred and dominant in a Hindu India as being that which must
prevail. The othering of those who are excluded from notions of
citizenship takes place through an emphasis on the 'foreignness' of
some citizens such as Christians who may even occupy positions of
constitutional power and authority (for example, our Chief Election
Commissioner) thereby excluding them morally from a legitimate public
and social domain that is encased in the 'values' of a dominant
culture.
All these normative definitions of citizenship do not necessarily
articulate within the classroom in a school but through the media,
and other public spaces, finding a place in the minds and lives of
children. The pedagogic encounter therefore is not restricted to a
building or an institution but takes place in the everyday lives of
children both within well-defined spaces as well as in more amorphous
and nebulous spaces where identities are constructed, selfhood is
defined and redefined, and boundaries are created and recreated.
If we examine these spaces, as well as those within schools, as
constitutive of relations of ruling in the everyday life histories of
both selves and societies, we will find how selves are not only
included or excluded, affirmed or alienated, but how
socially constructed and other-ed selves are eventually removed, with
surgical precision, from the social and public domain. We must surely
be conscious that in this process we are only stepping back into
history, into conflict, struggle and war and not moving forward into
a just, fearless and more enabling future.
[I must thank Shahid Amin for selecting a fine topic for the brief
presentation at the University of Heidelberg-University of Delhi
meeting organised by him in February this year.]
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