Manufactured nationalism

Manufactured nationalism

Nationalism is understood to be an umbrella term under which were subsumed the related phenomena of national identity and consciousness; occasionally, it is employed to refer to the articulate ideology on which national identity and consciousness rested. True, nationalism lends itself to several different meanings because of its fuzzy, shifting and ambiguous character. Yet it continues to fire popular imagination in many countries enabling politicians and publicists to mobilise, though not always for the right reasons, large segments of society in the name of nationalism.

Edward Said has written nostalgically about nationalism in Ireland, India and Egypt being rooted in the long-standing struggle for native rights and independence by nationalist parties like the Sinn Fein, the Congress and Wafd. He refers to the pantheon of Bandung flourishing, in all its suffering and greatness, because of the nationalist dynamic, which was culturally embodied in the inspirational autobiographies, instructional manuals,and philosophical meditations of great leaders like Nehru and Nasser.

Indian nationalism, though marred by Muslim estrangement, had its finer moments. In 1920, for example, when the Mahatma's spectacular mass mobilisation strategies paid off while his predecessors in the Congress were made to look silly. Again, when the same frail man, aged 60 years, marched from his Sabarmati Ashram with 78 followers for the shores of Dandi, a small village on the coast of Gujarat. This was nationalism, pure and simple, on the move. Tagore wrote that the influence emanating from Gandhi's personality was ineffable, like music, like beauty. Its claim upon others was great because of its revelations of a spontaneous self-giving. Not only did the Mahatma awaken the villages to a sense of their power, but also his novel conception of motion, exemplified in the Dandi March, shot across the changeless horizon.

The point is not to valorise Gandhi but to make sense of his political credo. Equally, the point is not to celebratethe Congress brand of nationalism but to delineate its characteristics. In its heyday, nationalism was defined and constructed differently by the elites and the "subalterns". Yet the ambiguities were the greatest strength of Indian nationalism. This is not something the post-modernists should frown upon, for the discourses of scores of groups, though often at variance with one another, were located and expounded within the anti-colonial paradigm. The evolution of institutional pluralism, democracy and political stability was not contingent upon a unified or monolithic interpretation of nationalism.

At a time when state-sponsored nationalism is being imposed on our society, this is a lesson that we will do well to remember. In free India, the finest hour in the tortuous career of nationalism was perhaps the drafting of a democratic and secular constitution, with a pronounced egalitarian thrust in so many of its provisions. The urge to clear the debris of the Raj and to rebuild a new and dynamic nation-statewas central to the post-colonial project. To me, these urges and the initial moves towards their fulfilment, captured the spirit and essence of nationalism. The tryst with destiny echoed the legitimate aspirations of the people.

Nehru underlined in 1951 that India had infinite variety and there was absolutely no reason why anybody should regiment it after a single pattern. This, if you do not already know, is what secular nationalism is all about. As its chief proponent after independence, the country's first prime minister pursued a goal set by the Mahatma, by the secular wing of the Congress, and by the socialists and communists.

A secular state as a political solution for modern India was based on the contention that it afforded the optimum freedom for the citizens to develop into fully integrated beings. This was a modern goal, rational and scientific, and in addition a specifically Indian goal. These values should have been apparent to all, and it was because of this that they were for Nehru and hiscolleagues both the ultimate and final legitimisation for the secular state.Yet the ``nationalist dynamic'' that Edward Said talks of has dissipated in several countries. India is no exception. Here the demise of inclusive nationalism has been hastened by three factors. First, the historical experience of resistance against colonialism does not find a place in the collective consciousness of the nation; secondly, secularism as an important component of nationalism has been assailed, for a variety of reasons, in different quarters; thirdly, the persistent failure of the state machinery to reduce social and economic inequities has raised doubts over the efficacy of nationalism as an ideology that cements the bond of unity; finally, the hegemonic language of nationalism has no appeal to the 'new' groups trying to assert their regional, linguistic and ethnic identities.

As a consequence, nationalism and secularism have become contested terms and grown out of their anti-colonial ranks into ethnic and untutoredreligious consciousness. Doubtless, these trends are incompatible with democracy and institutional pluralism. But what must cause greater concern is that ethnic collective consciousness in India, as indeed in South Asia generally, manifests itself politically and expresses itself in violent forms. The other disconcerting element is that ethnic nationalism, though objectified by perceptions of relative economic deprivation, has so easily merged with religious fundamentalism. The murky career of Jarnail Singh Bhindranwala and the ill-advised policies of the militants in Kashmir exemplify this.

What we experience today is state-sponsored nationalism or militarism that comes into play only when a nuclear explosion takes places, or when the country is at war with Pakistan. Otherwise, our nationalism remains dormant. Once the war euphoria is dissipated, the deep-seated fissures in our polity and society surface. We forget our war widows and leave our wounded soldiers at the mercy of their relatives. We valorisethe martyrs of Kargil, but forget those killed in Sri Lanka. We fund war memorials, but do precious little for the millions affected by the cyclone in coastal Orissa.Politicians ceaselessly debate the politics of aid in their cosy chambers, while the sufferings of the hapless victims are prolonged.

How do we travel into the next millennium with this ideological baggage? The ride is bumpy; the journey hazardous. The Hindi writer Rahi Masoom Reza would have said that the stories of demolition, war, flood, cyclones and disease are over. The stories of life have begun, because the stories of life never end.