The current humanscape of the region is actually a result of multiply entangled histories. It has emerged out of thousands of years of migrations, commerce, and exchanges of myths, languages, and production technologies, as well as campaigns of military aggression and state power. … However, a contradictory fact is that the notion of South Asia is quite marginal to the popular imaginaries of its inhabitants. It has been severely mauled and smothered by the history and practices of its nation states, which have divided its humans and geography in tight silos separated by militarised boundaries.
Almost every fourth human being lives
in South Asia. Geographically contiguous from Hindukush and Himalaya in the
North to islands in the Indian Ocean,
this region hosts one of the most diverse humanscapes. Like a fractal pattern,
the diversity of cultures and languages of South Asians ranges from large
regional identities to a mosaic of tiny sub-sub regional cultures. Besides
Pashto and Dari, the two lingua franca of
Afghanistan, the people there
speak nearly 40 other languages. The 2011 census of Nepal counted more than 100
languages. Even linguistically most homogenous Bangladesh, with 98% citizens
speaking Bangla, has 28 other languages. Underlying this spatial mosaic of the
region are long historical timelines, aptly imagined as multiple writings on a
palimpsest by Nehru in The Discovery of India.
The current humanscape of the region is
actually a result of multiply entangled histories. It has emerged out of
thousands of years of migrations, commerce, and exchanges of myths, languages,
and production technologies, as well as campaigns of military aggression and
state power. The process continues into our own times. However, a contradictory
fact is that the notion of South Asia is quite marginal to the popular
imaginaries of its inhabitants. It
has been severely mauled and smothered by the history and practices of its
nation states, which have divided its humans and geography in tight silos
separated by militarised boundaries. The largest of these, the Republic of India and the
Islamic Republic of Pakistan were born in the bloody conflagration of the
Partition of 1947, which tore asunder the second and the third largest
linguistic and regional cultural communities of the sub-continent. The Indian
nation state suffers from the ‘big brother’ syndrome and has strained relations
with most of its neighbours. The liberation of Bangladesh was preceded by a
systematic genocide of its people by West Pakistani generals. The island nation
of Sri Lanka has gone through one of the longest and bloodiest of civil wars in
human history. The twenty first century has ushered in new forms of
majoritarian aggressions. Minorities and migrants live under suspicion
everywhere, and nationalist prejudices prevent people from appreciating even
basic facts about other countries of the region.
Despite these difficult times there are
enough number of ordinary people and organisations in all countries of South
Asia who are clear that the path to a better future for everyone in the region
passes through an active appreciation of our current realities, common
histories and entwined presents. At the minimum we need to see other South
Asians as they are, without nationally prejudiced glasses. And then, there is
indeed much that we can learn from each other. This issue of Critique is guided
by these aims.
Aslam Khwaja’s article ’People’s
Movements in Pakistan’ is a window to recent popular mobilisations in our
western neighbour. The vibrant women’s
movement, and the movement for the protection of minorities’ rights are of
special interest, as they counter the
increasingly Hindutva based perception of Pakistan in India. Sasanka
Perera’s interview explores many dimensions of the internal social developments
in Sri Lanka, and popular images of India there. Among many things we can learn
from each other in the region, he points to the role of publicly funded universal
education in achieving the highest human development indicators in South Asia. Ratan Kumar Roy’s article on recent youth
protests in Bangladesh highlights their vibrant cultural forms and creative use
of digitised social media. Anuj Goyal and Sanjay Kumar discuss the status of
social development in different countries of South Asia. Their comparative
analysis brings out some interesting facts. India and Pakistan, the two
countries with the most pronounced right-ward shift in their polity in recent
times have worse human development data on some indicators than much less
prosperous Nepal and Bangladesh. Javed Anees’ article ‘VIbhajit upmahaadweep
kaa saajhaapan’ (Commonalities in a Divided Subcontinent) discusses how
many people in Pakistan are trying to
resurrect popular heroes like Bhagat Singh from the common history of South
Asia, which challenges the state mandated re-writing of history along religious
lines. Pramita Mishra’s ‘Utsarito Alo’
explores the continuing significance of
Rabindranath Tagore to the culture of Bengal on both sides of
nation-state border between India and Bangladesh. Anuj Goyal’s article ‘Coke Studio Pakistan: Rashtra aur Rashtra
ke Pare’ (Coke Studio Pakistan: Nation and Beyond Nation) describes the
popularity of Coke Studio Pakistan among the youth of Delhi, and how the love
of music and digital social media trump national animosity. Sanjay Kumar’s
article ‘Vibhajit Bengal aur Punjab mein Maanava Vikas kaa Itihas’ (The
History of Human Development in Divided Bengal and Punjab) traces the
trajectory of human development in two of the largest provinces of South Asia
which were divided in 1947. ‘Rahul Sankrityayan kee Ghumakkadi: Dakshin Asia
ke Sandarbh Mein’ (Rahul Sankrityayan’s Art of Travel: in the context of
South Asia) by Saurabh Verma is a commentary on the art of travel evolved by
Sankrityayan during his innumerable journeys. For Sankrityayan travel was not
just an experience, but a source of cross-cultural knowledge, which was
possible only with free exchange of ideas. Hence, his ghumakkadee is a potent anti-dote to all cultural
fundamentalisms.
Other articles
in this issue discuss the crisis of higher education under neo-liberalism.
Ad-hoc teachers of University of Delhi went on strike for nearly two months in
the beginning of this year. More than forty percent of teaching faculty in
colleges of DU are ad-hoc, i.e. they are employed on contract only for four
months at a time. These teachers carry much greater burden of teaching and
managing colleges’ affairs than warranted by their numbers and service
conditions. However, when the university decided to squeeze them further by
taking away even their ad-hoc status and employ then as guest lecturers on a
lecture-to-lecture basis, most of them said ‘enough is enough’ and went on
strike. Kamalakanta Roul’s ‘Protest at a Colonial Site’ is an account of the
first few days of the strike when young teachers broke through police
barricades and occupied university Vice Chancellor’s office for two days. Devika Mittal’s ‘We Ad-hoc Teachers’ is an
insider’s account of the reality of the system of temporary teaching.
Yatendra’s ‘Stuck between Trishanku and Sisyphus’ brings out absurdities of
engineering education in private colleges of India. This too is an insider’s
account written from students’ perspective. If these articles look at
relatively recent developments in higher education in India, Archishman Raju’s
article is a critical appraisal of the history of higher education in the US.
Building upon radical insights of African-American author and artist James
Baldwin, Archishman shows how the academia in the US was designed from a white
supremacist perspective, and how in the twenty first century it has become a
breeding ground for social alienation. Raju’s observations about white
supremacism in the US gain increased significance in the aftermath of murder of
George Floyd and widespread popular protests against it.
As right-wing politics is consolidating
in many countries, so are popular protests against it. Chile, Ecuador, Bolivia
and Lebanon saw prolonged demonstrations before the lockdown due to corona
virus. One manifestation of imperialism is that the people of developing
countries become aware of political developments in other developing countries
only through the information gathered and filtered by news channels of richer
capitalist countries. Hence, even the news about other countries of the world
become a vehicle for ideological obfuscation and domination. For example, a 13 Oct 2019 report on protests in Ecuador in the well-respected
Indian web portal The Wire alleges that indigenous leaders of the
country had ‘instigated the protest over fuel price increases’ that led
to violence (emphasis added). The report was sourced from the German state news
channel DW, and its this claim could not be farther away from truth. Critique is fortunate in having friends in
many developing countries of the world who have been very generous in writing
insightful commentaries for it on developments in their countries. Pilar Troya
Fernández’s ‘Indigenous and People’s Revolt in Ecuador’ situates the recent
protests of Ecuadoreans in the context of IMF sponsored shift in economic
policy, and an increasingly central role of indigenous people’s movement in
popular politics. ’Mere jaise mool-nivaasion ke liya Evo Morales ke takhta
palat ke kyaa matlab hai’(The Meaning of Coup Against Evo Morales for
Indigenous People Like Me) is
translation of an article by Nick Este, who himself is an American indigenous
of Sioux tribe. As the title says, Evo Morales’ rise in Bolivia, and now the
coup against him by entrenched racist and capitalist elites of the country has
special meaning for the political assertion of indigenous people of the
Americas.
This issue of
Critique is coming out in digital format. The transformation to this form has
been on cards for some time for us, but corona lockdown forced our hand in
quick time. We hope our readers will accept the change. We also especially hope
that they will help us realise the potential of the digital form of the
magazine in terms of reach, and the two way interaction it permits between
readers and publications.