Vivek Menezes
Religion and politics are an especially volatile mix in South Asia, cleaved apart so painfully on the basis of religion in 1947, and roiled on the same lines again in the 21st century, as majoritarianism surges on all sides of the post-Partition borders. Here in India, the main divide remains Hindu-Muslim, with painful consequences – from casual intimidation to ethnic cleansing – playing out in different locations However, in recent years, Sikhs and Sikhism have also been targeted as “anti-national”, and Goa has experienced many silly and childish provocations about Catholics and Catholicism, including recurring absurdities about who can and can’t be considered Goencho Saib.
These slurs haven’t yet added up to much, and it would be unwise to overreact. However, the increasing conflation of myth and history by the state is an unhealthy trend. As the distinguished political scientist Niraja Gopal Jayal reminds us: “In effect, it is an attempt to construe Indian citizenship as faith-based, in consonance with the idea of a Hindu majoritarian nation, of which Hindus are natural citizens while Muslims, in this view, properly belong to Pakistan or Bangladesh. Perfecting this congruence is the object of the new project of citizenship.”
Catholics in Goa – and Christians in India – have not been primary targets in this scenario, and in fact Joseph Francis Pereira – Pakistani of Goan origin – was one of the first beneficiaries of the new Citizenship Amendment Act, which allows Hindus, Sikhs, Jains, Parsis, Christians and Buddhists (but not Muslims) from the neighboring countries to become Indian citizens if they entered before 2014.
Yet, there are warning signs, as the senior academic Peter Ronald de Souza shared in a recent column in Indian Express: “A few days ago, during an argument (in a WhatsApp group), I was told to "go back to Portugal". Not one to take such abuse without a fight I responded and asked my adversary to “go back to Afghanistan”. He was outraged. "I’m not from Afghanistan," he roared. "Well, I’m not from Portugal," I said. Two things come together in this brief exchange that are worth thinking about. My name and his outrage. For him I was obviously the outsider and, equally obviously, he was the insider. Both for him were self-evidently true. In this exchange, my argumentativeness faced his righteous anger. He said he was confronting me because I was evil. That we went to school together more than half a century ago did not matter.”
Palpably upset, de Souza writes “I must honestly admit I was surprised at the vitriol. What began as a discussion on an Indian festival, soon descended into a toxic spat watched by others who, in their silence, appeared to endorse his views that it was inadmissible for me to talk about things Indian, especially Indian culture. What did I know? And who was I anyway? An Indian on probation! Now I know what Draupadi must have felt in the assembly when she asked the custodians of dharma her question. They did not answer. They remained silent.”
“Who belongs? Who does not belong? What kind of state is being re-engineered by Hindu nationalism, and where did the historical impetus come from?” Precisely when it is needed most to help address these questions, Manu Pillai’s lucid, brilliant new Gods, Guns and Missionaries: The Making of the Modern Hindu Identity is an invaluable primer on India’s encounter with Western colonialism, and “the context in which Hindu nationalism – Hindutva, so dominant now in India – found its raison d'être. [It is] a survey of 400 years at most – a span that supplies the historical setting and much of the emotional stimulus empowering present-day Hinduism.”
All serious students of Goan history are strongly urged to read Gods, Guns and Missionaries for the way it begins alone, a deft and masterly treatment of colonialism and conversion in the Estado da Índia. This brave young author – he was born in 1990 – pulls no punches, but also refrains from cheap shots. This clear-eyed, sure-footed approach is both refreshing and absolutely required, because the subject is such a potent mix of history, religion and politics. Here is just one passage, for flavour: “the Portuguese came into everyday contact with Hindus, armed with scarce knowledge but copious pre-judgement. The encounter took barely a generation to turn violent. One factor was that the colonizer’s rigid religiosity had grown stiffer still in reaction to the anti-Catholic Reformation occurring in Europe. That is, with the emerging Protestant movement accusing the Catholic church of perverting the faith, Catholic powers had a special necessity to demonstrate unequivocal Christian credentials. And here, their newly acquired Indian enclaves offered a parade ground, packed as they were with devil-worshipping pagans.”
To be sure, all this is familiar ground to historians, but serious scholarship about these episodes is almost never knitted together, understood or presented with as much panache and storytelling flair as Gods, Guns and Missionaries. Via email, Pillai told me that “history in our country--and perhaps elsewhere too--is not merely a rational, academic inquiry into the past. It is an emotional, political affair. My very first book invited a Rs 5 crore defamation notice, so I know the risks and perils involved in presenting complexities from the past. In this context, historicising religious identities can provoke all kinds of responses. "The truth" pales here in comparison with how people interpret history to create "their truth" in the present or as groups; to find meaning by reading history a certain way. This is true of all communities and identities everywhere in the world. But today we are also seeing an active cultivation of animosity by exacerbating elements of divergence in these narratives. So, when writing a book on modern religious identity formation, yes there is a fear that some of its contents can be hijacked. Similarly, one can also be "cancelled" by different sides for not reinforcing their respective ideological positions. One chapter in the book might annoy the Left and please the Right. Another might achieve the reverse. But this is the risk of doing what I do today. One can't do history if worried about reactions. Even when one is aware of the risks involved in these reactions.”
As the topic is especially relevant in this Exposition year, I asked Pillai what to make of the paradox of “Saint” Francis Xavier – an unstinting zealot who believed in the superiority of his faith – becoming converted after death into an all-inclusive Indian holy man, who is addressed by pilgrims from every religion to answer their prayers. He responded thoughtfully: We must always view historical figures in their time and context. Xavier and his proselytising work stemmed from a vision of the world that emerged from his cultural background, the history of his part of the world, his education etc. The responses of his brown interlocutors were also similarly influenced. There is also in this equation the political power of the Portuguese and their own imperial goals, which skewed the field in favour of one side over another. We should be able to speak of this transparently while also recognising that historical dynamics also evolve and change. The same Portuguese state's attitudes shifted over time; the memory of Xavier and his work also changed. These too are real historical processes. History is full of contradictions. In the battle between "sides" today we can lose sight of this. There are no heroes and villains in history. Often the same characters in different contexts can look heroic or villainous, depending on the prism, the location of the viewer, and so on.”
Pillai acknowledges that it is difficult to have honest and open discussions about historical-religious-political issues in India at the moment, but they must occur nonetheless: “I think conversations help. Remember that outside of certain political constituencies, most human beings can take a sensible view of things. It is this mature, reasonable tendency that must be cultivated. By reacting to others, and their setting of the terms, we play into their game. Instead, we must engage in dialogue, speak of Xavier the complex, sometimes "negative" figure while also recognising the equally historical phenomenon of Xavier as he came to be recognised and reinterpreted in these same communities, not just by Catholics but also Hindus. I always say that most things in history are not a case of "either/or". The word we must embrace is "and". But this is admittedly easier said than done. I don't know if I have a solution other than dialogue, and engagement
in good faith.”