Mukul Kesavan - Speaking in tongues - Narendra Modi and the Anglosphere // Garga Chatterjee - Modi salutes US military casualties in the Vietnam War
NB: Two perceptive comments on Modi in America: Kesavan notices his pathetic yearning to be accepted at the high table of the Anglophone powers; Chatterjee sees through to the symbolism of his homage to US soldiers killed during the Vietnam war. For those who may not know it, the RSS referred to the American intervention as a dharmayuddha, or holy war. For the RSS and Jana Sangh (the ancestor of the BJP) the Americans were fighting unholy communism. For all their nationalistic talk, they did not recognise what even American critics of that war saw clearly - that the National Liberation Front was the most dogged proponent of Vietnamese nationalism. The significance of both of Modi's gestures (his chummy speech and his genuflection at Arlington cemetry) point to the same pathos of inferiority; the same desperation to be One of Them. And they point to Modi's single-minded devotion to the Sangh Parivar's ideological 'line': DS
Mukul Kesavan - Speaking in tongues - Narendra Modi and the Anglosphere
Watching the prime minister in America is unlike watching him elsewhere. Narendra Modi is a different person there. At home or in our neighbourhood, he is very much the Leader: deliberate, unsmiling and over-produced like someone soaked overnight in gravitas. When he makes a stump speech, he is more animated but you have to be on his side to enjoy it because it is a taunting animation. His rhetorical control in Hindi is remarkable, given it isn't his mother tongue. This isn't the routine Hindi-fluency of the RSS pracharak because in campaign mode, Modi's spoken Hindi can be robustly Hindustani. Advani was fluent but it was a stranger's fluency: too shuddh to be rousing, made faintly absurd by the prissy delivery. Even when he was touring UP in his pink chariot whipping up a frenzy over the Babri Masjid, he wasn't formidable, just sinister: the bigotry of his message weirdly at odds with his gentility. Modi's public-speaking manner is variable: he can be colloquial and grandiloquent, masterful (when trolling his enemies) and tiresome (when congratulating himself).
Watching the prime minister in America is unlike watching him elsewhere. Narendra Modi is a different person there. At home or in our neighbourhood, he is very much the Leader: deliberate, unsmiling and over-produced like someone soaked overnight in gravitas. When he makes a stump speech, he is more animated but you have to be on his side to enjoy it because it is a taunting animation. His rhetorical control in Hindi is remarkable, given it isn't his mother tongue. This isn't the routine Hindi-fluency of the RSS pracharak because in campaign mode, Modi's spoken Hindi can be robustly Hindustani. Advani was fluent but it was a stranger's fluency: too shuddh to be rousing, made faintly absurd by the prissy delivery. Even when he was touring UP in his pink chariot whipping up a frenzy over the Babri Masjid, he wasn't formidable, just sinister: the bigotry of his message weirdly at odds with his gentility. Modi's public-speaking manner is variable: he can be colloquial and grandiloquent, masterful (when trolling his enemies) and tiresome (when congratulating himself).
In America, he's
different. There is an eagerness to him in the US that's unusual. The
self-conscious dignitary turns into a curious visitor, inhaling a brave new
world. Stateliness yields to something very like sprightliness. Walking down the
aisle before addressing the joint session, he pumped hands, squeezed arms,
slipped in a thumbs up, reached out with both hands when one wasn't enough,
acknowledged the galleries and just radiated affability and goodwill. When he
assumed the lectern, he waved and pointed and waved and basked in
the sunshine of their regard. If they had clapped any harder he might have
clambered over tiers of seats to shake their hands. Americans don't know it but
their Congress is to Narendra Modi what Centre Court was to Pat Cash.
The fact that he spoke
in English tells us something. Modi is willing to stumble and forgo his
absolute control of Hindi to impress, to persuade, to forge a direct
connection. This isn't the first time he has done this; when he addressed a
joint session of the British parliament he spoke in English for the first time
on a major stage in an English-speaking country. It was a more wintry,
buttoned-up affair than the American occasion. Modi was sombre in a darkbandh-gala suit
whereas he wore a churidar-pyjama and a waistcoat (black, not one of his pastel
specials) to Congress. Also British MPs don't do enthusiasm well; they clapped
politely without the standing ovations that fire the blood of a rhetorician
like Modi. The main difference, of course, was that Great Britain is an
influential offshore island that punches above its weight while the United
States, though diminished, is still our only global hegemon. Modi is a
connoisseur of power and its concentration, and in Congress he sensed that the
Force was with him.
But more important
than the differences were the similarities in the two speeches. Take the
high-literary references that marked both of them. The speech in Parliament
featured T.S. Eliot, the one in Congress ended with Walt Whitman. The Eliot
reference in Modi's speech is to "The Hollow Men". With apologies to
Eliot, Modi assures the gathered MPs that India is a great place to invest in
because he (Modi) won't let a shadow fall between the idea (his vision of India
as a business destination) and the reality (the actual ease of doing business
on the ground).
Did the speech-writer
tell the prime minister that the second of the poem's two epigraphs reads,
"A penny for the Old Guy"? It's a reference to Guy Fawkes, a
terrorist who tried to blow up England's parliament exactly 410 years before
Narendra Modi addressed it. Guy Fawkes is ritually burnt in effigy every
November, the same month in which the Indian prime minister addressed
parliament. Luckily for Mr Modi he spoke on the 12th; had it been a week
earlier it would have been the anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot! From the
haystack that is English literature, it takes a special kind of genius for the
prime minister's brains trust to nobble this needle.
The allusion in the
speech to Congress was more appropriate. Once again, one of Modernism's giants,
Walt Whitman, was pressed into service to sell India as a place to invest in.
"The orchestra," declared the prime minister, "have sufficiently
tuned their instruments, the baton/has given the signal." With senators
and congressmen laid out in cheering banks in front of him, Mr Modi must have
felt like a virtuoso conductor. And if the quote reminded those assembled
Americans of the lines that followed, so much the better: "The guest that
was coming, he waited long, he is now housed,/ He is one of those who are
beautiful and happy, he is one of those/ that to look upon and be with is
enough." Yes!
More seriously,
though, the other thing the two speeches had in common was political banter.
Both times, Modi made a point of calling out the principal figure in the house
by name and joking about the cut and thrust of parliamentary politics. In
London, he named David Cameron and observed that he was looking relaxed and
relieved because parliament wasn't in session. In Washington, he name checked
Paul Ryan, the speaker, and joked about his reputation for being non-partisan.
Wit is a good way of warming up an audience, but there was more, I think, to
those little sallies than a man working a crowd. The prime minister was working
the inside track as a democrat - he could joke about the
trials of working with a legislature or an obdurate opposition, because he was
one of them.
When commentators talk
about how strongly Mr Modi has pushed India westwards, they don't give enough
credit to Mr Modi's anglophilia. I mean this in the broadest possible sense. Mr
Modi isn't about to turn into Shashi Tharoor or (heaven forbid) Mani Shankar
Aiyar. Mr Modi is an anglophile because it isn't the West he has designs on; it
is the Anglosphere, that strange transnational entity that consists of the old,
white Commonwealth: Great Britain, New Zealand, Australia, Canada and the
United States.
These are Churchill's
English-speaking peoples, who together form an invisible and enormously
powerful entity. They watch one another's soap operas, and act in one another's
movies. They have always fought one another's wars. When an Indian applies for
a visa to the United Kingdom, the online form has a special section where the
applicant is asked if he has visited Canada, the US, New Zealand and Australia
in the last ten years. As the Five Eyes, these countries formally pool their
intelligence with each other in a way that excludes even their closest
non-anglophone allies. This is the most exclusive club in the world.
Indian leaders are
peculiarly susceptible to its charms. Dr Manmohan Singh famously thanked the
British empire for the good it had done India and then, in his one flash of
political passion, risked his government to sign the Indo-American nuclear
deal. Lal Krishna Advani was so taken with the prospect of being a part of the
Anglosphere's Coalition of the Willing during the Iraq War, that he pledged
Indian soldiers to that disastrous conflict, a pledge that A.B. Vajpayee had
the good sense to repudiate. Now it is Narendra Modi's turn.
This is the club Modi
wants India to join, if not as a charter member, then at least as an honorary
associate, like Israel or Japan. It's why he takes the trouble to court Britain
and America in English, it's why he quotes their writers back at them and it is
why, even as he flatters them in their legislatures, he is seduced, unknowing,
in his turn. To take the Anglosphere by storm is an act of great ambition...
and no little pathos.
http://www.telegraphindia.com/1160613/jsp/opinion/story_90833.jsp#.V149DdJ97IWBy visiting the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington, Modi crossed a sacred line
Foreign visits by
heads of state are important for their symbolism and the signals they send.
Hence, speeches are carefully worded and the sites to visit are chosen
tactically, keeping the PR value of such symbolism and signalling in mind. India’s
prime minister kicked off his three-day US tour on Monday with a visit to the
Arlington National Cemetery, a United States military cemetery in Arlington
county, Virginia and laid a wreath at Tomb of the Unknowns. This was no
ordinary decision.
The Tomb of the
Unknowns is dedicated to, among other US military personnel, those part of the
invasion of Vietnam whose remains are yet unidentified. The government of India
had staunchly opposed the US invasion of Vietnam, widely regarded as one of the
most brutal and technologically superior imperialist campaigns against the
Vietnamese forces of national liberation. The war (known in Vietnam as the
Resistance War against America) saw the US being politically and morally
isolated at home and abroad. By the end of the war, any reputation that the US
might have had as a force of intervention on the side of good lay in tatters.
In fact, its later
campaigns in Iraq were considered, within the US military-political
establishment, as a sign of recovery from the Vietnam shock. Former diplomat
and astute external-affairs observer KC Singh pointed out the significance of
Modi’s wreath-laying in a series of tweets.
Though Prime Minister
Indira Gandhi had also visited the Arlington cemetery during her 1966 US visit,
when the US invasion of Vietnam was underway, she had laid a wreath at former
US President John F Kennedy’s memorial and crucially, not at the Tomb of the
Unknowns. In fact, prior to Modi, no prime minister of the Indian Union has
ever acted publicly in a manner that pays respect – in any way, directly or
indirectly – to US military personnel involved in the invasion of Vietnam.
A departure: This week in Virginia, Modi crossed a sacred
line. Among the other sharp criticisms it invited, the Vietnam War had also
brought forth scores of charges of heinous war crimes against US military
personnel. Right from the My Lai massacre, the Vietnam War saw the US military
and its allies allegedly carry out the mass murder of civilians, organised
gang-rapes at a mass scale, aerial bombing of large, densely populated civilian
population centres, burning and destruction of whole villages, mass torture,
murder of prisoners of war, loot, forced labour and so on.
Thousands of US
military combatants who allegedly perpetrated such crimes or were witness to it
suffered post-traumatic stress disorder. Internal investigation by the Pentagon
showed that there was a factual basis to at least 320 such “alleged” incidents
of war crimes. The war crimes
perpetrated on non-white people typically becomes a statistic, but it is
important to list the nature of some such events in which the US military was
specifically involved. The present-day US Secretary of State, John Kerry, testified before the US senate in 1971 as follows:
The “country” in
question was the US. Using its vastly superior aerial power, its military,
during the multi-decade South-East Asian campaign, dropped more than three
times the amount of explosives as during the Second World War. I mention the
Second World War for a reason. Few foreign heads of state, if any, would
publicly pay respect at any memorial that included the German war criminals of
the Second World War. To this day, China protests every time Japan’s Prime Minister pays homage
to a shrine for fallen Japanese soldiers during that War, because Japan’s
military had committed a series of war crimes during its invasion of China.
Why it's a problem:
Those engaging in war crimes
are war criminals. Paying respects at a tomb that may potentially include many
such individuals is an act that may be justified by the emergent US-India
strategic alliance optics of the occasion, but not by any stretch of human
ethics. Later, in his address to a joint session of the US House of
Representatives, Modi proudly declared: “Our relationship has overcome the
hesitations of history.”
It is important to
examine what those “hesitations” were about and what the stance of the Indian
Union’s citizens was towards them. There was huge opposition to the Vietnam War
among the citizens of the Indian Union. Robert McNamara, the US secretary of
defence under whom America’s invasion and involvement in Vietnam was deepened
and escalated, wasn’t allowed to enter the city of Kolkata on November 20,
1968. He was blocked by a huge crowd of protesters surrounding the DumDum
airport when McNamara came visiting as the President of the World Bank.
Slogans rang aloud in
Bengal’s streets – tomar naam, amar naam, Vietnam, Vietnam (your
name, my name, Vietnam, Vietnam). The anger went beyond Calcutta and its
students and extended even to the fishermen of rural Murshidabad. Elsewhere in
the Indian Union too, there were many Vietnam-solidarity committees.
It is in the shadow of
the Vietnam War and Cold War politics that the US strategy towards arming
Pakistan was devised during the Bangladesh liberation struggle, resulting in
another genocide. It is not accidental that no prime minister post the Vietnam
War, including Atal Bihari Vajpayee, did what Modi has done. There was a
domestic constituency to think of.
A different optics
mattered – not the optics of big-table camaraderie of realpolitik without
morals but that of how a brown republic’s prime minister would be perceived if
seen showing respect to the perpetrators of war crimes on other coloured people
resisting a largely white foreign invading army.
At some level, that
this hesitation has been overcome is a sad commentary on the sacrifice of the
moral compass at the altar of the hunger for global supremacy by a nation-state
home to the largest number of hungry people in the world.
Poor reflection: Days before Modi's visit, Mohammad Ali died. At
the peak of the Vietnam War, the boxing legend and activist showed the courage
of refusing to be enlisted in the US Army, summarising the war as one in which
“the white man sent the black man to kill the yellow man”. While his stance has
come to be adulated in the wake of his death, those in South Asia might do well
to remember some facts.
Many of the regiments
of the Indian Army, have historically done exactly this. Before Partition,
brown men enlisted in the then British Indian Army gained valour and gallantry
by suppressing rebellious anti-British brown people or assisting British
imperial expeditions abroad – in other words, the white (British) man sent the
brown (British Indian Army) man to kill brown (in the subcontinent and in West
Asia), yellow (in China and elsewhere) and black (in Africa) men.
While the Pentagon at
least engaged with the war crimes committed by its forces in Vietnam, the
British Indian Army or its successor, the Indian Army, has not done so for its
colonial-era crimes. One may argue that the present Indian Army was formed on
August 15, 1947 (strangely, with all ranks being maintained and those swearing
allegiance to British crown a day before suddenly becoming loyal to the
government of India overnight) and is not accountable for actions done before
that. However, the fact that
so many of its regiments and formations to this day proudly celebrate their
pre-transfer-of-power Raising Day and boast of the number of Victoria Cross
awardees and retain pre-1947 mottos and war cries underlines the structural
continuity. The lack of hesitation
on the part of Modi while laying a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknowns is a sad
commentary on the state of human values in the Indian Union.
More posts on Vietnam