http://groups.yahoo.com/group/IndianCivili...n/message/76072
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin-->From: "ewynants" <ewynants@...>
Date: Wed Jun 8, 2005Â 10:34 am
Subject: Savarkar;Â ewynants
Offline Offline
Send Email Send Email
A question, which forms part of the title of Savarkar's 1923 work, is
at the heart of ideas of Hindu nationalism. It is a question that may
be related directly to those processes of objectification we have
noted above associated with the development of Hinduism. Indeed, the
difficulties experienced by elites in the late nineteenth and early
twentieth century in conceptualising Hinduism as a religion, and the
tensions that subsequently emerged, were highly influential in the
development of major lines of Hindu nationalist thought. This is
because these were, in the absence of any theological coherence,
debates about the parameters of Hinduism as a social phenomenon. Where
one drew the boundaries of Hinduism and how its shape was articulated,
formed key underlying questions in the contest over whether and how
the religion needed to be `reformed' or `regenerated'. Two broad
patterns of response emerged: one which sought to articulate the idea
of Hinduism through the restructuring of society, as exemplified by
some elements within the Arya Samaj; and one which sought to
articulate the idea of Hinduism through the consolidation of the
existing structures of society, emphasising the `organic' unity of the
component parts.
Savarkar answers his own question by emphasising and extending the
latter response. Hindutva/Who is a Hindu? constructs a notion of Hindu
nationality that is catholic, embracing a broad range of religious and
cultural systems. This catholicity is characteristic of the spiritual,
universalist approach to Hinduism and Hindu culture developed in the
nineteenth century by figures such as Vivekananda. At the same time,
however, Savarkar's notion works obsessively on the boundaries of this
range, producing some formulaic models through which an individual or
a group may be identified as Hindu or not. There is, for example, the
widely recognised formula of pitribhum-punyabhum (fatherland-holy
land) (Savarkar Hindutva/Who is a Hindu? Bombay: 1989: 111). Whoever
can identify India as both may be considered as Hindu. In consonance
with this formula, he develops the idea of rashtrayat=sanskriti
(nation-race-culture), as components of Hinduness (Savarkar 1989:
116). Identification with the Hindu race and nation is encompassed by
the recognition of pitribhum; whereas identification with culture is
encompassed by the recognition of punyabhum. On this reckoning,
Savarkar's key social exclusions are of Muslims and Christians, in
that they locate their holy land, their cultural identity, outside
India. This formulaic approach has proven to be remarkably resilient,
turning up in later Hindu nationalist works, although not always
attributed to Savarkar.
Golwalkar develops a similar approach in We, Or Our Nationhood
Defined. He developed a formula based around what he terms the `famous
five unities' (We or Our Nation Defined, Nagpur: Bharat Prakashan
1944: 18) of territory, race, religion, culture and language. These
may be related to the Savarkian formula of pitribhum (territory, race)
- punyabhum (religion, culture, language), and they follow the same
pattern of emphasising a broad, catholic approach to cultural and
religious idenÂtity, while identifying exclusions in a quite
uncompromising manner. Golwalkar also identifies Muslims and
Christians as key exclusions, although he moves on to encompass
communists as anti-national or an `internal threat' (Golwalkar Bunch
of Thoughts, Bangalore: Vikram Prakashan 1966: 187ff.). This reflects
a developing concern, in the immediate pre- and post-Independence era,
with the strength of the left in Indian politics.
The quality of inclusion and exclusion formulas identifying Hinduness
forms the basis for a consistent area of Hindu nationalist action:
resisting conversion. The critical exclusions exemplified in the
pitribhumpunyabhum formula mean that conversion to Islam or
Christianity amounts to a process of 'de-nationalisation'. Indeed,
this term was used by the RSS organiser, Kishore Kant, to describe the
activities of Christian missionaries in northeastern states during the
1990s (The Asian Age 1998: 1 January). At the same time, there has
always been recognition of the vulnerability of certain groups to the
`threat' of conversion. These are principally low caste and tribal
groups, those who exist on the fuzzy margins of Hinduness - in a way
that Savarkar would have regarded as anathema - and who suffer
oppression precisely because of their status within Hindu society
(Zavos Conversion and the assertive margirts: an analysis of Hindu
nationalist discourse and the recent attacks on Indian Christians',
South Asia, 24(2):73-89. 2001).
The success of conversion campaigns among low caste or tribal groups,
then, appears both as an indication of the fragility of Hindu society,
and a confirmation of fears about the erosion of Hindu identity. As
such, resisting conversion has always been a key concern of Hindu
nationalism because it operates as a means of affirming and
consolidating the idea of a broad notion of Hindu identity, on the
basis of the pitribhum-punyabhum and other associated formulas.
(ii) Hinduness - a question of culture
In a rather paradoxical fashion, we can see that as well as
rationalising exclusion, the formulaic approach is designed to
encompass a broad range of traditions, including such historically
resistant traditions as Buddhism and Jainism. Savarkar is able to do
this because he begins with the idea that Hinduness - or Hindutva as
he coins it - is not so much a reliÂgious as a cultural signifier,
based on an identified continuity of blood in the Hindu `race'.
`Hinduism,' he says, `is only a derivative, a fraction, a part of
Hindutva' (1989: 3). Through this distinction, Savarkar is able to go
on to construct a grand, catholic vision of Hindu identity as diverse,
yet unthreatened by that diversity. The diversity itself is perceived
as characteristic of Hindu culture.
As a model of cultural development, we can relate this idea to some
classic accounts of Indian syncretism and tolerant, such as Jawaharlal
Nehru's Discovery of India. Nehru notes that `the mind of India' has
been occupied for millennia by `some kind of a dream of unity'. Within
this idea of unity, he states that `the widest tolerance of belief and
custom was practiced and every variety acknowledged and even
encouraged' (1985: 62). Of course, Nehru is insistent on embracing
Muslim and Christian communities within this model, but the premise of
`unity in diversity' is similar to that of Savarkar. The latter's
ideas about Hindu culture, then, to a certain extent reflect a broader
discourse about the Indian nation.
Interestingly, Golwalkar almost reverses Savarkar's formulation of the
relationship between Hinduism and Hinduness. He claims that culture is
`but a product of our all-comprehensive Religion, a part of its body
and not distinguishable from it' (1944: 22). This difference is partly
explained by the use of contrasting conceptions of religion. Savarkar
works with a narrow definition of religion, based on the idea of
individual commitment and spiritual fulfilment. Golwalkar works with a
different kind of concept altogether, a broad, all-encompassing
concept, which provides a kind of framework for belief, culture and
social organisation. Indeed, Golwalkar criticises the narrow
conception of religion in We or Our Nationhood Defined. It is possible
that this critique is aimed at Savarkar, the `secular Hindu';
certainly there is a reverse echo of Savarkar's statement quoted
above, when Golwalkar states that the individual spiritual fulfilment
view is `but a fractional part of Religion' (1944: 23).
Golwalkar's conception of religion is rather as a broad framework,
which `by regulating society in all its functions, makes room for all
individual idiosyncrasies, and provides suitable ways and means for
all sorts of mental frames to adapt, and evolve' (1944: 23).
Golwalkar, then, is equally able to encompass diversity in the
tradition, by broadening the idea of religion in the context of India
and articulating it as `the elastic frameÂwork of our dharma' (1966:
101). It is this very elasticity, he goes on, which operates to
`protect and maintain the integrity of our people', as various sects
had emerged to counter threats to the framework; Sikhism, for example,
`came into being to contain the spread of Islam in Punjab' (1966:
103). This is highly reminiscent of Savarkar's idea of diversity as a
defining feature of Hindu culture.
Ultimately, both Savarkar and Golwalkar produce approaches that
attempt to resolite the threat posed by doctrinal diversity and
fragmentation within Hindu identity by reference to `framework' ideas,
which endorse this diversity as archetypal. This approach, following
Savarkar's articulation, has emerged in contemporary Hindu nationalism
as a valorisation of Hindu culture; indeed, despite the tension noted
between Savarkar and the Sangh Parivar, the idea of Hindutva has been
fully adopted and is used freely in Sangh literature (although again,
it is rarely attributed to Savarkar).
What, though, characterises this framework of Hindu culture or
Hinduty*Both Savarkar and Golwalkar locate the idea of Hinduness by
reference to history. Even taking into account its diversity,
Hinduness is rooted in Aryan civilisation and the establishment of the
Vedic tradition. According to Savarkar, there was a gradual expansion
of Aryan influence, leading eventually to the religious, cultural and
political unification of the subcontinent under Lord Ram (1989: 11-12).
These then followed periods of relative Hindu and Buddhist ascendancy,
which in turn were superseded by the `human sahara' of Muslim
incursion, the beginning of a long period of struggle to maintain
Hindu identity in the face of `foreign invasion' (1989: 42-6). This
interpretation of history was based on some familiar elements of
nineteenth- and twentieth-century Hindu worldviews. The idea of the
Vedic civilisation of the Aryans was used as a reference point by a
whole host of movements and individuals involved in conceptualising
Indian religion and society (e.g. Dayananda, Jotiba Phule); Ram Rajya
also had a distinctive resonance as indicative of perfect governance
and a harmonious society (e.g. Gandhi). And the idea of `Muslim' rule
creating a decisive break in Indian history was most familiar, and had
been institutionalised in James Mill's influential early
nineteenth-century History of British India (1817). There is nothing
distinctive, then, in the use of these ideas to characterise the
quality of Hinduness. They serve again to emphasise the embeddedness
of the Hindu nationalist approach in developing ideas about Indian
culture during the first half of the twenÂtieth century.
This version of history is nevertheless used as the basis for the
development of some further key elements of Hinduness as Indian
culture. Perhaps most significant is the valorisation of the geography
of India.' This key feature is clearly indicated by the emphasis on
the land in Savarkar's pitribhum-punyabhum formula. He writes:
Yes, this Bharat bhumi, this land of ours that stretches from Sindhu
to Sindhu is our Punyabhumi, for it was in this land that the Founders
of our faith and the seers to whom `Veda' the Knowledge was revealed,
from Vaidik seers to Dayananda, from Jina to Mahavir, from Buddha to
Nagasen, from Nanak to Govind, from Banda to Basava, from Chakradhar
to Chaitanya, from Ramdas to Rammohun, our Gurus and Godmen were born
and bred. The very dust of its paths echoes the footfalls of our
Prophets and Gurus.
(Savarkar 1989: 112)
Here, Savarkar articulates archetypal diversity as indicative of
Hinduness through the land itself - the dust of its paths is
representative of Hindu culture. Golwalkar, who delineates Bharat as
`a land with divinity ingrained in every speck of its dust ... the
holiest of the holy, the centre of our utmost devotion' (1966: 86),
reiterates this kind of reverential approach. Again, this reverence is
present in a broader dlourse on the Indian nation during this period.
Varshney has used the example of Jawaharlal Nehru's will, in which he
expresses a desire for some of his ashes to be thrown into the Ganga,
because that river has been `a symbol of India's age-long culture and
civilization, ever-changing, ever-flowing, and yet ever the same
Ganga' (Ethnic Conflict and Civic Life: Hindus and Muslims in India,
New Haven: Yale University Press. 2002: 63).
Varshney makes a distinction between Nehru's view of the river, and
that encompassed by Hindu nationalism, on the basis that Nehru's
vision of sacred geography was `metaphorical', rather than `literal'.
The quality of this distinction is not clear, particularly since he
goes on to say that the `emotions and attachment generated by the
geography were equally intense' (2002: 63). Rather than emphasising
difference, we can see here again the way in which Hindu nationalist
thought has emerged within a broader complex of ideas about the
emerging nation, and that the idea of polarisation between these ideas
is apparently untenable.
One further aspect of Hinduness as Indian culture needs emphasising at
this point. This is the focus on Ram and Sita, the heroes of the
Ramayana, as archetypal Indians. There has been a fair amount of work
in recent years on the developing ways in which these figures have
been represented in art, film and other media. The emphasis of this
work has been on the representation of Ram as a martial hero,
defending the honour of Hinduism with the aid of a mighty bow (Kapur
1993). Sita has operated increasingly as the site of that defence, a
meek and pure individual who needs protection from violation (Basu
`Feminism inverted: the gender imagery and real women of Hindu
nationalism', in T. Sarkar and U. Butalia (eds) Women and the Hindu
Right: A Colection of Essays, New Delhi: Kali for Women1995: 158-80.).
In the context of Hindutva, these figures are national, rather than
religious. Hence, the desire in recent times to build a temple at the
proclaimed `birthplace' of Ram in Ayodhya is perceived as a national
project, and resistance to this project is interpreted as
anti-national, regardless of your religious persuasion.
This valorisation of Ram and Sita is indicative of a wider point on
the idea of Hinduness or Hindutva. It denotes a set of ideas that is
consciously articulated as cultural, rather than religious, and yet
there is constant slippage into what we might perceive as more clearly
religious territory. On the one hand, this appears to be a reflection
of slippage in the original pitribhumi-punyabhumi formulation, which
claims to include on the basis of cultural space, but clearly excludes
on the basis of religious identity. On the other hand, it is also a
reflection of the problematic identification of Hindu nationalism as
religious nationalism, if religion is defined as a discrete category,
in the manner critiqued by Golwalkar as noted above. To an extent,
this is a set of ideas that exists in broader discursive fields than
those signified by such a category.
(iii) Sangathan -ordering society
Nothing demonstrates this latter point more clearly than what has
emerged as the most influential organisation propagating Hindu
nationalism during the twentieth century: the RSS. As is well
documented, the Sangh emerged in the mid-1920s with specific cultural
objectives. It was established in Nagpur in Central Provinces, a city
with a minimal Muslim minority, and its first formal public action was
at the Ram Navami festival at nearby Ramtek. The Sangh volunteers, led
by the founder of the organisation Dr. KB. Hedgewar, engaged in a form
of crowd control, enforcing queues, providing drinking water, and
keeping an eye on commercial activity at the festival, among other tasks.
This first public action is interesting because it exemplifies two
significant features of Hindu nationalist thought. First, as we have
just noted, Ram was an important cultural symbol of the nascent Hindu
nation. Here was an intervention in a festival dedicated to Ram.
However, the Sangh was apparently not interested in the form of
religious practice articulated at the mela (festival); rather, it
pursued the objective of establishing a sense of order within this
environment. Not only does this reiterate the idea of the focus on Ram
as a cultural, rather than an explicitly religious symbol, it also
points us towards the second significant feature: the estabÂlishment
of a sense of order, discipline and organisation in Hindu social and
cultural relations. This idea, expressed in Hindi as sangathan, has
emerged as a fundamental Hindu nationalist concern.
The specific trajectory of this concern with discipline and
organisation. Sangathan is significant because it is directed at the
organisation of society. A Hindu nationalist vision of the Hindu
nation is intimÂately bound up with the progressive realisation of a
society which operates harmoniously, in an integrated fashion. Most
generally, this vision has been articulated as a kind of organicist
approach: society operates like a body, each component part having its
own valuable function. Golwalkar comments:
All the organs, though apparently of diverse forms, work for the
welfare of the body and thus subscribe to its strength and growth.
Likewise is the case with society. An evolved society, for the proper
functioning of various duties, develops a multitude of diverse
functional groups. Our old social order laid down a specific duty for
each group and guided all the individuals and groups in their natural
line of evolution just as the intellect directs the activities of the
innumerable parts of the body.(1966: 100)
The ideal Hindu, then, knows his place in this organism. Fulfilling
one's function in the organism, in a disciplined and orderly manner,
is each individual's dharmic duty. Members of thAangh organisation -
to a certain extent the swayamsevaks (volunteers), but more
specifically the pracharaks (full-time workers) - act both as a
vanguard working to bring this society into being, and as examples of
how to conduct oneself in accordance with dharma. In fact, the Sangh
itself has been described as a model for Hindu society; the RSS
ideologue M.G. Vaidya, for example, has described the Sangh as `not an
organization in society, but of society' (Zavos 2000: 196).
Such a vision, of course, entails addressing the issue of caste, and
Hindu nationalism is rather ambivalent on this issue. At times, a
fullfledged defence of the caste system has been articulated; at
others, a `return' to varnashrama dharma5 is advocated; at others, the
Sangh's vision is perceived as the eradication of caste altogether. A
consistent element in this position, however, is a non-confrontational
approach to established caste structures. Any transformation of caste
structure is perceived as occurring through `organic' development,
rather than as requiring radical change. This approach reflects the
development of Hindu nationalist thought in high caste, middle class
social groups, and explains the strong antipathy to any forms of
independent low caste assertion (Zavos Conversion and the assertive
margins: an analysis of Hindu nationalist discourse and the recent
attacks on Indian Christians', South Asia, 24(2):73-89.2001).
This refers us back, of course, to the concerns noted earlier over the
shape of Hinduness in the modern world. The organisation of society
emerges as a key means of articulating this shape. As an institution,
the RSS has consistently focused on this objective and rationalised
its actions in relation to it. Indeed, one way of understanding the
Sangh Parivar is as a project to establish a focused presence within
the various spaces of society, with the objective of demonstrating the
Sangh's vision of organisation in microcosm and in relation to
specific issues. Politics and the state may be regarded as one of the
identified spaces.
(iv) Integral humanism - the politics of social order
The argument that politics must be seen as a component space within
the Hindu nationalist conception of society is exemplified by the idea
of integral humanism. This term enjoys a prominent profile in the
BJP's main website (along with the notion of Hindutva), and it refers
to a set of ideas developed in lie 1950s and 1960s by Deendayal
Upadhyaya.6
Upadhyaya was an RSS pracharak who had been influential in the
Bharatiya Jana Sangh since it was established in 1951 as the Sangh
Parivar's first venture into the world of post-Independence politics.
Integral humanism was fully articulated as a political programme in
1965. In a series of lectures, Upadhyaya sought to pitch this
programme into what he perceived as a sea of cynicism and opportunism
in politics. `Parties and politicians have neither principles nor aims
nor a standard code of conduct,' he opined. In particular, he pointed
to Congress as lacking any kind of ideological coherence. `If there
can be a magic box which contains a cobra and a mongoose,' he
continues, `it is Congress' (1965: Ch. 1).
The set of ideas which he went on to develop are based around a series
of key themes. First, the need to articulate specifically Indian
answers to modern problems (through, for example, promoting swadeshi
and small scale industry); second, the need for politics to be
practised in consonance with the chiti (specific essence) of the Hindu
nation; and lastly, the need to sustain the `natural' balance between
the individual and different institutions in society - institutions
like the family, caste and the state - by acting in accordance with
principles of dharma. This set of themes has been interpreted as an
incorporation of Gandhian idioms into Hindu nationalist politics, in
order to enhance the potential for forging alliances with other
anti-Congress forces, after twenty years of total domination of the
polity by that party. Integral humanism, then, may be interpreted as a
means of increasing the possibilities of power. As it so happens, new
possibilities were created in the late 1960s and early 1970s,
particularly in association with the Gandhian political leader, J.P.
Narayan. The involvement of Hindu nationalist forces in Narayan's
anti-Indira agitations undoubtedly gave the Jana Sangh the credibility
to take a share in power in the post-Emergency Janata Party coalition
government . It is quite possible, then, to view this key element of
Hindu nationalist ideology in terms of electoral strategy, a resolve
to bid for power in the late 1960s. A similar interpretation of the
VHP strategy around the issue of the Babri Masjid in the 1980s is also
well established (Jaffrelot The Hindu Nationalist Movement and Indian
Politics, 1925 to the 1990s: Strategies of Identity-Building,
Implantation and Mobilisation (with Special Reference to Central
India), London: Hurst & Company. 1996). In these interpretations,
Hindu nationalism as ideology is framed to support the primary
interest of an organisation or set of organisations in state power.
The trajectories of Hindu nationalist thought discussed so far in this
chapter, however, must lead us to consider a different kind of
interpretation in relation to integral humanism. In particular,
Upadhyaya's ideas appear to follow the logic of the emphasis on the
organisation of society as a principal objective. This may be seen in
the key role he gave to the concept of dharma (duty) in his lectures.
Dharma, that is, in the same sense noted in relation to the Hindu
nationalist vision of society: a harmonious, integrated system in
which each individual and group has a specific function or duty.
Although Upadhyaya presents dharma as part of an integrated regulation
of human activity based on purushartha (the four universal objectives
of humanity), in his discussion he demonstrates this integration by
referring each objective (and in particular the `worldly', political
objectives of artha (gain) and kama (pleasure) to dharma. 'Dharma,' he
says, `defines a set of rules to regulate the social activity, Artha
and Kama, so as to progress in an integral and harmonious way, and
attain not only Kama and Artha but also Moksha eventually . Without
reference to dharma, then, other objectives may not be reached.
The invocation of dharma indicates a further articulation of the idea
of order or organisation of society as central to a Wdu nationalist
worldÂview. Upadhyaya interprets dharma as a kind of dynamic network
of interÂrelated regulations by which life should be led. It is these
regulations that govern social relations. Upadhyaya seeks authority
from the Mahabharata to argue that in the kritayuga (the first of the
four eras of the world), `there was no state or king. Society was
sustained and protected mutually by practicing dharma' (1965: Ch. 3).
In subsequent yugas (epochs), he explains, `disorganisation came into
existence', and as a result, the state was introduced as an additional
form of regulation, but the state was only ever legitimate if it
operated in accordance with dharma. The primacy of society, then, is
clear here, and the state exists as an institution - `an important
one, but not above all other' (1965: Ch. 3) - which is framed and
governed by this idea.
This approach locates integral humanism within the context of
developing Hindu nationalist ideas focused primarily on the
transformation of society, rather than viewing it as an
instrumentalist appropriation of Gandhian idioms designed to increase
the possibility of power. There is cerÂtainly evidence of the
appropriation of Gandhian idioms, if not ideas, in Upadhyaya's
lectures, but what this demonstrates primarily is interaction in ideas
about the development of society. I have argued elsewhere that
Gandhian idioms, ideas, and strategies were quite significant in the
articuÂlation of Hindu nationalism in the 1920s (Zav6s 2000: 189-91).
This significance was not because of instrumentalist appropriation, or
indeed because Gandhi was a surrogate Hindu nationalist. Rather,
Gandhian ideas and Hindu nationalist ideas developed in the same
discursive spaces, drawing on a similar range of ideas about and
experiences of history, culture and political mobilisation.
Whether in the 1920s or the 1950s, the dialogue between Gandhian and
Hindu nationalist ideas has to be viewed as a straightforward element
of the development of ideological forms. These are, after all,
perspectives on the world which exist primarily in what Stuart Hall
has called the `mental frameworks' of people, both individually and in
groups. These individuals and groups exist in time and space, and they
forÂmulate their `mental frameworks' in accordance with the
`languages, the concepts, categories, imagery of thought and systems
of representation' which are available to them. In this context, the
blending of ideological forms, the borrowing of idioms and symbols,
the adaptation of existing ideas has to be perceived as the way in
which meaning is constructed.
The structure of Indian politics, with its sharp division between the
secular and the communal, does not help us to recognise this point.
Recognising the shapes of Hindu nationalism
A key conclusion to be drawn from this analysis is that Hindu
nationalist ideas about identity, culture and politics draw on and to
some extent reflect the construction of ideas about the Indian nation
and its cultural heritage in the late nineteenth and twentieth
centuries. Nevertheless, I have suggested that the use of formulas and
explicit religious symbols to draw the boundaries of national identity
may be construed as distinctive. Two lines of thought - the obsessive
concern with conversion and the aggressive asserÂtion of ownership
over sites projected as sacred - are indicative of this distinctiveness.
Yet even here, there is a degree of embeddedness in broader fields of
thought. Perhaps the clearest post-independence example of this point
is the restoration of the Somnath temple in 1947/8. This was carried
out under the auspices of an INC government, with the Home Minister
Sardar Patel noting that `the restoration of the idols would be a
point of honour and sentiment with the Hindu public' Jaffrelot 1996:
84). INC involvement in this project is often perceived as indicative
of the presence of `Hindu traditionalists' in the party, a group who
are distinguished from Hindu nationalists through the comparative
weakness of their ideological commitment, or through their primary
concern for the promotion of culture rather than opposition to the
other (both ideas are expressed in Jaffrelot 1996: 83-4). This
distinction is, I feel, rather over-wrought. The ideas underpinning
the approach of Patel and others in the INC during this period are
clearly informed by the same kind of concern for Hinduness overrun by
Muslim `invaders' as those noted earlier as indicative of Hindu
nationalism. Again, we get an indication of the fuzzy boundaries of
this field of thought, rather than its clear distinctiveness from
Congress nationalism.
Conversion issues also indicate a broader reach for ideas associated
with Hindu nationalism than the formal organisations of the Sangh
Parivar. The conversion of some Dalits to Islam in Meenakshipuram in
1981 is a good example of this, in that the concerns expressed about
this event were far broader than those generated by the Sangh.
Jaffrelot notes that `leading articles in newspapers not known for
their support of Hindu nationalism suggested that the converts had
been paid sums of money', and that the whole process had been
sponsored by rich Arab nations inspired by pan-Islamism (1996: 341).
This view was also taken by certain sections of the INC Government,
and the Indian Express published a poll revealing that as many as 78
per cent of north Indian urban Hindus wanted the government to ban
conversions in the wake of Meenakshipuram (Jaffrelot 1996: 341). Such
figures, of course, need to be taken with a pinch of salt, but these
responses do indicate again a degree of embeddedness of some key ideas
associated with Hindu nationalism in Indian political life. The shapes
of Hindu nationalism, in this sense, are not The shapes of Hindu
nationalism necessarily constrained by the limits of the Sang-Parivar
and other overtly Hindu nationalist organisations.
A further conclusion concerns the focus on society rather than the
state, through the realisation of correct dharma. Formal politics and
the control of the state is significant, but it needs to be placed
within the context of this broader focus, which conceptualises society
as a range of segmented areas and `functional groups', as Golwalkar
would have it. This point is graphically demonstrated by the network
of organisations that constitute the Sangh Parivar. These
organisations focus on a variety of issues, from tribal welfare to
education to labour relations, and this is an expanding network across
areas of social and cultural life.
The RSS - the `parent organisation' - maintains a loose, rather
inforÂmal sense of control over the Sangh network. The current
sarsanghchalak (leader) of the RSS, KS. Sudarshan, explained the
relationship in a recent interview. `For the overall development of
society', full time RSS workers are encouraged to enter `different
fields according to their abilities'. Their general objective is
common: `to try to find solutions to probÂlems in those assigned
areas, under the Hindutva ideology'. Although the organisations are
independent, Sudarshan continues, the RSS maintains a guiding
relationship with its workers, who remain swayamsevaks (RSS cadre)
(Outlook 2003: 30 June). It is well known, for example, that the Prime
Minister and his deputy during the NDA's tenure, A.B. Vajpayee and L.K
Advani, have remained as swayamsevaks. Other key figures in the BJP,
for example, Gopinath Munde and Murli Manohar Joshi, have also
followed this path. Key leaders in the VHP, such as the international
secretary, Ashok Singhal, are also swayamsevaks, as are other key
Sangh figures such as the leader of the Swadeshi Jagran Manch (SJM, an
affiliate of the RSS set up in 1992 to oppose economic
liberalisation), Dattopant Thengadi.
Joshi and Singhal demonstrate the route taken by ambitious
swayamsevaks. Joshi joined the RSS, at the age of 10, in 1944. While
pursuing academic studies, which culminated in a PhD in Spectroscopy
from Allahabad University, he became increasingly involved in the
Sangh's student organisation, the ABVP, achieving the status of
General Secretary of this organisation in the early 1950s. In 1957, he
joined the Bharatiya Jana Sangh and enjoyed increasing prominence in
the Uttar Pradesh hierarchy of this organisation; before becoming
General Secretary of the BJP in the 1980s, President in the early
1990s, and a key cabinet minister in Vajpayee's adminÂistration, first
as Home Minister, then taking charge of three ministries: Human
Resources Development (including education), Science and Technology
and Ocean Development. It is in the HRD ministry where he has really
made his mark, instigating policy initiatives in the education sector,
which demonstrate the Sangh's desire to shape national consciousness.7
Singhal also hails from Uttar Pradesh, having been born in Allahabad
in 1927. He also pursued a technical education, achieving a BSc from
Benares Hindu University in Metallurgical Engineering. He joined the
RSS as a swayamsevak, before becoming a pracharak (full-time worker),
and eventually being assigned to the VHP in 1980. At this dynamic
period of the organisation's history, Singhal rose quickly to become
its general secretary in 1986. Singhal later indicated the role the
RSS had to play in the development of different areas of social life
by calling them `ascetics in the real sense'. He identified `service'
as `the key word of our culture, and Sangh's swayamsevaks are symbols
of service. Today in all spheres of activity such workers are needed'
(cited in Katju Vishwa Hindu Parishad and Indian Politics, Hyderabad:
Orient Longman. 2003: 68).
The complexity of the Sangh network has increased over time, as new
institutional layers are created. For example, the VHP established the
Bajrang Dal, initially as a sort of youth wing. Over time, the Bajrang
Dal has developed into a kind of confrontational front for the VHP,
providing foot soldiers in key campaigns such as that over the Ram
temple in Ayodhya. The Bajrang Dal also operates as a continuous
activist presence in local situations, providing its own version of
'socio-religious policing' to guard the honour of local Hindu girls,
protect local cattle and local temples, and so on (Katju 2003: 52).
Likewise, the SJM is another organisation which has gone on to develop
more focused organisations, such as the Centre for Bharatiya Marketing
and Development and the Swadeshi Vichar Kendra.'
Given these developing, dynamic networks, it is not surprising that
the Sangh has developed a diversity of approaches to the idea of
`finding soluÂtions to problems' using 'Hindutva ideology'. Nothing
has brought this diversity into focus more than the period of NDA
rule. The BJP's perceived inability to find the kind of solutions
demanded by different Sangh organisations has induced sharp criticism.
Ashok Singhal, for example, commented in 2003 that 'Atal and Advani
have backstabbed the VHP' because of the government's reticence over
temple construction in Ayodhya (Free Press journal 2003). Also in
2003, national convenor of the SJM, Muralidhar Rao, described the
VajÂpayee government's economic policies as `dubious, deviant,
diluted', particularly in relation to disinvestment and the World
Trade Organisation (Telegraph (Calcutta) 2003). As a result of this
divergence, the BJP was not able to rely fully on the grassroots cadre
of other Sangh organisations during the 2004 general election
campaign. At the BJP's National Executive meeting held in July 2004 to
review election performance, L.K. Advani stated that there had been `a
sense of alienation in our Parivar and a weakening of the emotional
bond with our core constituency' .
As if to reinforce this point organisations such as the SJM and the
VHP have shed few tears at the fall of the NDA Government. Muralidhar
Rao has gone so far as to welcome the Common Minimum Programme of the
incoming INC-led United Progressive Alliance, commenting that the NDA
had `lost touch with the masses' . It appears from this evidence,
then, that the constraints of coalition government have caused a
fracturing - and therefore weakening - of Hindu nationalism as a
political force.
The arguments presented here, however, suggest that any assessment of
the influence of Hindu nationalism in political terms needs to
recognise that this is a set of ideas which is located in a much
broader space than that represented by the BJP. Because they overlap
and blend with other key discourses on Indian society, culture and
identity, these are ideas which are manifested in a wide range of
political actions and articulations. In addition, the focus identified
here on social relations and social develÂopment demands a broader
understanding of what constitutes politics. For example, in tribal
areas of states such as Madhya Pradesh and Orissa, the Sangh affiliate
Vanvasi Kalyan Parishad has been increasingly active, reshaping tribal
religious practices within a Hindu framework (Frontline 2004b). In the
arena of education, the Sangh now has a network of schools, many run
by the Vidya Bharati Akhil Bharatiya Shiksha Sansthan. The Vidya
Bharati system supervises over 18,000 schools across India, with 1.8
million students and 80,000 teachers focusing on Sanskrit, moral and
spiritual education, yoga and physical development.' The political
impact of Hindu nationalism really needs to be measured in terms of
its continuÂing activism in such arenas, where politics is manifested
not in terms of formal state institutions, but as a contest for power
in a network of localised institutions and practices (Zavos et al.
`Deconstructing the nation: politics and cultural mobilization in
India', in J. Zavos, A. Wyatt and V. Hewitt (eds) Politics of Cultural
Mobilization in India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press: 1-16. 2004:
3).
An approach which focuses on the political impact of organisations
such as Vidya Bharati can also help us to locate Hindu nationalism in
the context of government. It is no coincidence that one of the most
significÂant areas of policy development during the NDA's tenure has
been in the area of education. From the National Council for
Educational Research and Training (NCERT) to the Indian Council for
Historical Research, Hindu nationalist approaches have been vigorously
promoted; further reshaping ideas about Indian history and society in
a wide range of schools, colleges and universities.10 In order to
recognise Hindu nationalÂism as a feature of the NDA Government, then,
we need to look particularly at those policy areas, such as education,
which impact on the structure and development of social relations.
Hindu nationalism continues to be an influential force in the
development of worliviews in India, through the interaction and
overlap of ideas as highlighted above, and the vigorous, diversifying
development of Sangh activities through its affiliate organisations.
In the final analysis, the shapes of Hindu nationalism cannot really
be contained in the arena of formal politics. Recognising the impact
of Hindu nationalism means looking beyond this arena, beyond the state
and the immediate problems posed by coalition politics, to the ways in
which its key ideas resonate in the broad spaces of Indian social and
cultural life.
<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->