Source: The Hindu, 9 November 1999
Conversions and the Sangh Parivar
By Sumit Sarkar
THE SANGH Parivar has a rare ability to turn absurdities into what often threaten to become widespread commonsense. Today, with Ayodhya for the moment allegedly on the backburner, Christian conversion and the demand for an apology from the Pope for Inquisition atrocities are being sought to be made into key national issues. Meanwhile, the BJP and the Government it leads officially ``welcomesíí the Pope, but at the same time talks about the need for a ``national debateíí on conversions and does nothing to seriously curb the anti-Christian campaign by other Parivar affiliates like the VHP. The ground for the Ramjanambhumi agitation had been prepared in a similar manner by the VHP for years, before the BJP formally took it up. Already in Gujarat, where the BJP is solely in power, a bill has been circulated to punish conversion through (a very vaguely-defined) ``allurementíí by a minimum of three years in jail.
What is worrying is the way terms of discourse and commonsensical everyday assumptions are getting moulded, as had happened during the Ayodhya agitation. Many even among those who expressed indignation at the Staines murder thought it necessary to say at the same time that the doctor had not been indulging in conversions: as if it would have been somehow less terrible if a missionary proselytiser had been burnt alive with his sons. Conversion, again, is always assumed to be Christian (or, in different contexts, Islamic or any other non-Hindu) conversion. The systematic work of the VHP ever since its foundation in 1964 to spread high-Hindu practices and norms among adivasis is never acknowledged as conversion, but described by terms like shuddhi (purification), `reconversioní, or paravartan (turning back). The implicit assumption behind the use or acceptance of such terms is that being a Hindu is somehow the ``naturalíí condition of any Indian. Discursively, therefore, we are already perilously close to Hindu Rashtra. And ``Hinduíí, as defined by the Sangh Parivar, is obviously worlds removed from the devotion of a Ramakrishna for whom the difference between Ishwar, Allah and God mattered as little as that between jal, pani and water.
The surprisingly apologetic tone about conversions, even among many critics of the anti-Christian campaign, makes necessary the restatement of some things which should be obvious. Conversion in the sense of voluntary change of religion is not just a logical corollary of the Article 25 clause about the fundamental right to ``preach, practise and propagateíí religion (why else should anyone seek to ``propagateíí?). Freedom of conscience surely includes the right to change oneís views about religion, and a curbing of that right can lead to restrictions on freedom of choice in general, with dominant groups dictating what one can think or do in politics, artistic tastes, dress, ways of life. Conversely, conversion by force or fraud is equally reprehensible, and one fails to see the need for any ``national debateíí about it. Given the current political and administrative situation in a country where even Dara Singh can roam around freely, it should be obvious that groups like the VHP are far more likely to indulge in such methods. There is ample evidence, notably from Gujarat, that forcible or fraudulent Hindu conversions are in fact going on on a significant scale in adivasi areas (see, for instance, the Citizens Committee Report on Incidents in Dang District, Delhi, 1999).
The total implausibility of forcible Christian conversion in todayís India makes necessary a constant harping on Inquisition atrocities centuries ago. This extends to Christians the old Sangh Parivar strategy of branding all Muslims as `Babar-ki-auladí. All modern political movements deploy `historyí to enhance legitimacy and more. It needs to be emphasised, however, that `historyí is vital for the Hindutva project on a qualitatively higher scale: hence history text-books and funding bodies have always been the first target of saffronising drives whenever the Sangh Parivar has got into the corridors of power. Other 20th Century trends have also sought to link up with and/or construct heritages. But they have all been rooted fundamentally in contemporary conditions and contradictions: colonial domination, class, caste and gender oppression, environmental depredation. Hindutva in this respect has been always marked by significantly greater gaps and displacements. Thus a foundation-text of the movement, Savarkarís Hindutva/ Who is a Hindu (1923), written just a few years after Jallianwallabagh and the massive Hindu-Muslim unity of the Non-Cooperation-Khilafat movement, managed the remarkable feat of virtual silence about British rule through turning the edge of an admittedly-powerful and seemingly nationalist rhetoric entirely against medieval `Muslimí invaders and oppressors. The gap widened even more once Muslim communalism ceased to be a major political tendency after 1947 in the Indian part of the sub-continent.
Two inter-related questions arise here. Why target Christians, then, and how is the campaign attaining some plausibility?
Christians, as a small and electorally insignificant minority in most parts of the country, are in the first place a conveniently safe target under conditions of coalition government. Adverse foreign reactions have so far been kept within limits by the new strategy of, not big riots, but everyday petty humiliation of Christians in many parts of the country, interspersed with occasional gross acts of violence against individuals. Attacking them helps to keep the wilder elements within the Sangh Parivar both satisfied and in good fighting trim for future, more aggressive phases. Perhaps more important, Christians represent a convenient and not entirely implausible surrogate for `swadeshií at a time when BJP-led Union governments have speeded up the opening-up of the country to multinationals.
Like any major tradition, Christian history has its share of horrors and scandals: these would certainly include the Inquisition, close collaboration often with colonial projects, and numerous instances of crude cultural arrogance and Eurocentrism. It remains an elementary fallacy to hold todayís Christians (or Muslims) responsible for atrocities committed by some of their co-religionists centuries back. This becomes particularly absurd with the Inquisition, which had always had its edge primarily directed against fellow Christians (dissident Catholics, Protestant `hereticsí), and which in India could only have been a very marginal phenomenon, being confined to a few Portuguese ruled enclaves. The diversities within Christian (like many other) traditions must be kept in mind. Dissident readings of Christianity have been central to innumerable movements of the oppressed. The extent of missionary complicity with colonialism in India has also been much exaggerated and simplified. Early Company rulers like Hastings and Cornwallis, far from encouraging missionaries, often developed close collaborative relations with orthodox Brahman literati, and the Baptist mission had to set up its first outpost in Serampur, then outside British Bengal. Later, too, there have been many missionary critics of colonial policies. Above all, at the other end of the social scale, recent historical research is increasingly highlighting the extent to which sustained Christian philanthropic and educational work have had an empowering impact on significant sections of adivasis, dalits and poor and subordinated groups in general.
Such small gains in the direction of greater social justice may have been earlier the largely unintended fall-out of Christian proselytisation efforts, often among the very many who did not convert, but still found missions a helpful resource for their own upliftment. Today, with the churches clearly changing in quite striking ways, there is ample evidence of far greater awareness of such issues among manyó though of course very far from allóChristian activists in India. And perhaps it is precisely these aspects that arouse the greatest anger and fear among adherents of Hindutva. Certainly Arun Shourieís widely- circulated anti-Christian tirade, Missionaries in India (1994), is very clear on this point. It begins, and ends, with a violent denunciation of the ways in which the Church today ``spurred by the new `liberation theology,í is spurring movements among so-called `dalitsíííómovements which he fears ``would certainly disrupt Hindu society.íí
(The writer is Professor of Modern Indian History, University of Delhi.)
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