Monday, November 12, 2018

Hindu nationalists increasingly use anti-Semitic slurs to target me – and that isn’t surprising




Independent India has developed a strong appetite for aspects of fascism, including Nazi ideology.

 

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Sanjay Kanojia / AFP

Two years ago, I awoke to the following tweet, “I hope another Hitler comes back and finishes off your people”, accompanied by a picture from 1945 of the bodies of dead Jews piled outside a liberated concentration camp. Since then, I have been regularly attacked with anti-Semitic language and tropes on social media, especially on Twitter.

I am a target for anti-Semitic insults due to my work: I am a historian of premodern India. My research primarily concerns the Mughals, a Muslim dynasty that ruled much of north and central South Asia in the 16th and 17th centuries and built the Taj Mahal. Most historians – especially those who work on non-Western, premodern topics – find their audience confined to scholars and students. But Indians have a voracious appetite for history, and the historical legacy of Islam in India has become a subject of explosive controversy in recent years. This potent combination has made my scholarship of wide interest among Indian and Indian American readers and has also made me a target of vicious personal attacks on the basis of my perceived race, gender, and religion.

Historically, anti-Semitism was not an Indian problem. Small Jewish communities, often traders, have dotted India’s western coast for more than a millennium. Premodern Indian Jews did not suffer from the persecution and discrimination that often characterised the lives of their European counterparts. In the 20th century, many Indian institutions and independence leaders condemned rising anti-Semitism in Europe. For example, following Kristallnacht in 1938, the Indian National Congress issued a declaration against Hitler’s Germany. Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru, two of India’s most famous Independence leaders, condemned the Nazi treatment of Jews.

India’s distaste for anti-Semitism began to erode in the early 20th century, however, especially among Hindu nationalists. Hindu nationalists – who believe that India ought to be a Hindu nation in population and character – warmly embraced fascist ideas. The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, a paramilitary Hindu nationalist group founded in 1925, modelled itself on contemporary European fascist movements. The Hindu Mahasabha, a Hindu nationalist organisation founded in 1915, openly supported Nazism, including “Germany’s crusade against the enemies of Aryan culture”, as a spokesman for the group put it in 1939.

Rise of anti-Semitism in India


A key appeal of Nazism for early Hindu nationalists was anti-Semitism, which they saw as a useful model for how to demonise India’s Muslim minority. Muslims constituted 24% of the Indian population in 1941, and they comprise 14% of Indians today (the drop is explained by the Partition of Pakistan and its large Muslim population from India in 1947). Speaking in 1939 in Calcutta, VD Savarkar, the ideological godfather of Hindu nationalism, identified Indian Muslims as a potential traitorous people not to be trusted, “like the Jews in Germany”. In the same year, MS Golwalkar, a Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh leader, wrote that Germany’s “purging the country of the semitic Race – the Jews” was “a good lesson for us in Hindustan to learn and profit by”.

For decades, Hindu nationalists constituted a set of fringe organisations whose extreme ideas were rejected by the wider Indian public. In 1948, a Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh man, Nathuram Godse, assassinated Mahatma Gandhi, which sparked a brief ban on the group’s operations. The Sangh experienced a remarkable recovery in subsequent decades, however, transforming itself from an extremist association known for producing Gandhi’s killer into the leaders of independent India. Today, Narendra Modi, who has had a lifelong association with the RSS, leads India as its prime minister.

Independent India has developed a strong appetite for aspects of fascism, including Nazi ideology. Hitler’s autobiography, Mein Kampf, has gone through countless editions in India and has been a bestseller in the country for decades. The work is especially popular among businessmen who see it as a self-help guide for how determination and strength can produce success. Indeed, I was once told by a gentleman in Bikaner, “Madam, you are a great leader like Hitler.” This was meant as a compliment.

Growing hate and intolerance


The Indian fascination with Hitler is often explained away as having nothing to do with anti-Semitism. Some argue that Indians hardly learn about the Holocaust in school and that they are historically and emotionally distant from the darker sides of Nazism. Others point out that the Indian state enjoys robust relations with Israel.

In India, however, growing bigotry and close relations with Israel are hardly mutually exclusive. A prejudiced attitude against Muslims has served as a binding glue between Israel and India over the past decade or two. Hate crimes against numerous groups – including Muslims, Christians, Dalits, and anybody who eats beef – are on the rise in Modi’s India. Such trends are unsurprising given the Hindu nationalist propaganda espoused by Modi and his political party, the Bharatiya Janata Party.

Anti-Semitic attitudes are not a central storyline in this larger flowering of prejudice, but they are a readymade playbook of virulent hate that can be unleashed against foreign scholars. Academics, such as myself, often contradict Hindu nationalist claims about a pristine Hindu past, in which Muslims are seen as barbarous invaders, by arguing that many Muslims were embedded into the fabric of premodern Indian society. By virtue of our dedication to accuracy, scholars also shed unfavourable light on the origins of groups such as the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh. Hindu nationalists lack the historical evidence to counter academic claims on scholarly grounds, and so they turn to one of their most finely-tuned weapons: identity-based attacks.

I have personally received dozens of anti-Semitic messages over the last few years from Hindu nationalists and those sympathetic to their cause. These ugly attacks use vicious anti-Semitic slurs, frequently invoke the Holocaust, and draw on crude anti-Semitic tropes such as that I am somehow pursuing my academic research for the money. Such language feeds on a wider global rise in anti-Semitism, including violent attacks on Jewish individuals and communities.

One curious aspect of this anti-Semitism directed at me is that I am not, in fact, Jewish. Perhaps my last name suggests a Jewish identity to those unfamiliar with eastern European surnames, but I suspect that darker reasons often lurk behind this mistaken identification. Several of my academic advisors are Jewish and frequently maligned as such by Hindu nationalists. As a result, I am evidently perceived as a Jew by association. More insidiously, the old anti-Semitic trope that Jews control universities still surfaces with alarming regularity. This is a sub-type of the foundational anti-Semitic trope that there is an international Jewish conspiracy to run the world. In other words, anti-Semitism blinds people into assuming that I am Jewish, and then provides them with a remarkably hateful set of tools with which to attack me.

India has a growing problem with hate and intolerance. Alarmingly, in recent years, much of this hate has been sponsored by groups and figures that are close to the Indian government. Within India, Muslims remain the chief targets of mounting bigotry and violent assaults. When attacking non-Indians, however, Hindu nationalists increasingly resort to the virulent anti-Semitic ideas that inspired their early leaders.

Audrey Truschke is Assistant Professor of South Asian History at Rutgers University in Newark, New Jersey. She is the author of two books, Culture of Encounters: Sanskrit at the Mughal Court (Columbia University Press, 2016) and Aurangzeb: The Life and Legacy of India’s Most Controversial King (Stanford University Press, 2017). The latter is published in India and Pakistan as Aurangzeb: The Man and The Myth (Penguin).

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Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Violin a gift from Christianity to Carnatic music


The controversy began when Arun allegedly received a phone call from Ramanathan Seetharaman, demanding that he refrain from taking part in the concert.

Published: 27th August 2018 04:01 AM  |   Last Updated: 27th August 2018 04:01 AM

newindianexpress            
File photo|AP

By Samuel Merigala | Express News Service

CHENNAI:Despite threats from Hindu fundamentalist groups, ‘Yesuvin Sangama Sangeetham’, a concert envisioned by renowned Carnatic artist T Samuel Joseph (Shyaam) went on as planned in the city on Saturday. Singer Kalpana Raghavendar filled in for OS Arun, who backed out following threats and criticism from fundamental groups, who alleged he was being used to spread Christianity.

The controversy began when Arun allegedly received a phone call from Ramanathan Seetharaman, founder of a Hindu fundamentalist group on August 6, demanding that he refrain from taking part in the concert. Ramanathan also targeted Magsaysay award winner T M Krishna and singer Nithyasree Mahadevan. Ramanathan confirmed to The Wire that it was indeed his voice.While Krishna has come out strongly against the attempt to make Carnatic music exclusive to one religion, Arun and Nithyasree seemed to have succumbed to the threats. Nithyasree even offered an apology through an FB post ‘for inadvertently hurting your sentiments if any’.  

According to Paul Wilson, Head of the Department of Chemistry in a private college near the city and his wife Jasmine Wilson, who has an MFA in Indian Music from the Tamil University in Thanjavur, these threats stem from the false notion that Carnatic music has no Christian heritage. “We were very disturbed after the controversy and decided to do some research,” said Paul, also a musician.One of the most obvious yet unspoken contributions of Christianity to Carnatic music is the violin. This stringed instrument, which is an integral part of any Carnatic concert today entered the fray through Christian proponents.  

Vedanayagam Sastriar, a Christian, who is known to have composed hundreds of Carnatic keerthanas, learnt to play the instrument as a 12-year-old from German missionary Friedrich Schwarz in 1786. He went to pass on the art to Vadivelu Pillai, who became the ‘Asthana Vidwan’ in the court of renowned Carnatic composer Raja Svati Tirunal of Travancore.

Baluswamy Dikshitar, brother of Muthuswamy Dikshitar, one of the Carnatic trinity, is known to have been the first person to infuse the violin into Carnatic compositions using the ‘Sa Pa Sa Pa’ string tuning which is still followed today.But like Vedanayagam Sastriar, Baluswamy Dikshitar also learnt the violin from European Christians. “He is said to have learnt to play the violin from a band in Fort St. George,” said Paul, explaining the role that Baluswamy’s patron, Manali Muthukrishna Mudaliar, played in arranging the interaction with the East India Company.

In addition, Christian artists have also helped preserve the music with notation.Chinnaswami Mudaliar, a Christian, brought out Oriental Music in Staff Notation in 1870. This was the first large-scale attempt to record tunes of Carnatic music, which had till then been passed down through oral traditions. “Tyagaraya owes his immortality to Mudaliar, He approached the shishya-parampara of Tyagaraja like Walajahpet Krishnaswami Bhagavatar and transcribed 800 pieces of Tyagaraja and other composers in Staff Notation, checking his scripts with the help of violinists trained in Western music, who were asked to play them by sight,” said Jasmine, explaining that Mudaliar was also instrumental in ensuring the original compositions of Muthuswamy Dikshitar were preserved.

The contributions of Christian proponents also continued into the 19th and 20th century. The contributions of Abraham Pandithar, a Siddha doctor from Tirunelveli and his seminal work — Karunamirdha Sagaram, a 1346-page book continues to be a reference material for research on  Carnatic music.While Samuel Joseph believes “Carnatic music is like the air. Free for everyone who wants a breath”, Paul believes it “will only get more diverse by borrowing and evolving”.

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Did A Stolen Convict Ship Visit Japan During Its Closed-Country Period?

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In 1829, a group of convicts seized the English brig Cyprus off of Tasmania, and sailed her to the Chinese city of Canton. After his capture, the convicts’ leader William Swallow claimed the ship visited Japan on their way to China. No one believed him because Japan was famously isolationist at the time.

But last year an amateur historian discovered Japanese records of a visiting “barbarian” ship in 1830 that flew a British flag. Curious local samurai visited the barbarian ship. Luckily for history, they wrote about what they saw, and even made some watercolors.

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According to one of the samurai, the barbarians had “long pointed noses” and asked in sign language for water and firewood. One young barbarian put tobacco in “a suspicious looking object, sucked and then breathed out smoke.” These men “exchanged words amongst themselves like birds twittering,” and the ship’s dog “did not look like food. It looked like a pet.” Another samurai listed the gifts the crew offered, including an object that sounds like a boomerang – strengthening the idea that the ship with the British flag had been at Tasmania or Australia.

The Japanese refused to allow the mutineers to stay. They eventually scuttled the Cyprus near Canton, and worked their way back to England. Unfortunately for the adventurous convicts, they were arrested in England for piracy. They had stolen a ship, and they were convicts before that – and British law at the time was notoriously harsh. Swallow died in prison, and the rest became the last men hanged for piracy in Britain.

Source: historical-nonfiction

Read full article: abc.net.au

Monday, June 11, 2018

The Modi-Erdoğan Parallel

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Jun 7, 2018 Shashi Tharoor

While Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi has not achieved the degree of “state capture” that Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has, he is also 11 years behind. And the path the two leaders are on is similar enough to invite comparison – and provoke concern.

NEW DELHI – Comparisons are generally invidious, especially when they involve political leaders from different countries. But, while Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan rose to power 11 years before Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, there is much about their personal and professional trajectories that makes comparison irresistible.

Both Erdoğan and Modi come from humble, small-town backgrounds: Erdoğan sold lemonade and pastries in the streets of Rize; Modi helped his father and brother run a tea stall on a railway platform in Vadnagar. They are self-made men, energetic and physically fit – Erdoğan was a professional soccer player before becoming a politician; Modi has bragged about his 56-inch (142-centimeter) chest – not to mention effective orators.

Both Erdoğan and Modi were raised with religious convictions that ultimately shaped their political careers. Erdoğan’s Justice and Development Party (AKP) and Modi’s Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) have both promoted a religiously infused, nationalist creed that they argue is more authentic than the Western-inspired secular ideologies that previously guided their countries’ development.

Yet, to win power, Erdoğan and Modi did not count exclusively on religious voters. Both campaigned on modernist platforms, arguing that by implementing business-friendly policies and reducing corruption, they could bring about greater economic prosperity than the establishment they sought to supplant.

Here, Erdoğan and Modi press both the past and the future into service. Erdoğan extols the Ottoman Empire’s legacy, while telling voters that they are not only “choosing a president and deputies,” but also “making a choice for our country’s upcoming century.” Likewise, Modi constantly evokes the achievements of ancient India, which he claims to be reviving in the name of creating a better future.

In short, Erdoğan and Modi have consolidated their power by glorifying the past, while portraying themselves as dynamic, future-oriented agents of change – heroes galloping in on white stallions, swords upraised, to cut the Gordian knots holding their countries’ down.

At the same time, Erdoğan and Modi have painted themselves as political outsiders, who represent the “real” Turks or Indians long marginalized by cosmopolitan secularists. With popular discontent high when they rose to power, such political messaging fell on receptive ears. The narrative of resentment against the established secular elites, peppered with religious-chauvinist discourse and historical revisionism, facilitated their emergence as voices of the middle classes of the hinterlands and second-tier cities and towns.

When Erdoğan first became prime minister in 2003, his position was bolstered by booming global growth, emboldening him to start transforming the Turkish polity. His political formula – a potent compound of religious identity, triumphalist majoritarianism, hyper-nationalism, increasing authoritarianism (including institutional dominance), constraints on the media, strong economic growth, and a compelling personal brand – carried him to re-election as prime minister twice, and from there to the presidency in 2014.

Whether consciously or unconsciously, Modi has adapted Erdoğan’s formula to his own effort to reshape India. He has sought to marginalize Muslims and reinforce Hindu chauvinism. Minorities in general feel beleaguered, as Modi’s nationalism does not merely exclude them, but portrays them as traitors.

Moreover, in Modi’s India, political loyalties are often purchased, and institutions are subverted to serve a narrow sectarian agenda. Dissenters in the media and the universities have faced intimidation. The only area where Modi has been tripped up is GDP growth, owing to his government’s gross economic mismanagement.

On the international stage, too, there are notable parallels between how Erdoğan and Modi conduct themselves. Both pursue activist foreign policies aimed at boosting their domestic image, and have cultivated diaspora support. Erdoğan’s speeches in the Balkans might antagonize the United States and Europe, and even Serbs and Croats, but they raise his stock with Turks. When Modi addresses stadiums full of Indian expatriates on his visits abroad, his speeches are aimed squarely at audiences back home.

Soner Captagay, a Turkish analyst and author of a book on Erdoğan, recently remarked, “Half of the country hates him, and thinks he can do nothing right. But at the same time, the other half adores him, and thinks he can do nothing wrong.” The same is true of Modi in India.

Of course, there are important differences between Turkey and India. For starters, Turkey’s population, at 81 million, is less than half that of just one Indian state, Uttar Pradesh, with its population of 210 million. Turkey is 98% Muslim, while India is only 80% Hindu. Islamism, as Hindu chauvinists never tire of pointing out, is a global phenomenon; Hindutva is not. Turkey has no equivalent of Mahatma Gandhi, with his message of non-violence and co-existence drilled into the head of every Indian schoolchild.

Moreover, Turkey is more or less a developed country, while India still has a long way to go to reach that point. And, unlike India, Turkey was never colonized or partitioned on religious grounds, as India was to create Pakistan (though the exchange of populations that accompanied Turkey’s separation from Greece comes close).

What Turkey has experienced – and India has not – are bouts of military rule. In fact, India’s democracy is deeply entrenched, making it less vulnerable to capture by a single ruler. That partly explains why it is so difficult for many Indians to imagine their country following in Turkey’s footsteps to become a majoritarian illiberal democracy with an autocrat in charge.

But while it is true that Modi and the BJP have not achieved the degree of “state capture” that Erdoğan and the AKP have, they are also 11 years behind. And the path they are on is similar enough to invite comparison – and provoke concern. The warning bells are ringing: like the Turkish lira, the India rupee has lost over 5% of its value in the last month. With upcoming elections in both countries – Turkey this month, and India in Spring 2019 – will voters heed the alarm?