It is easy to be overwhelmed as a human rights activist. As much as, perhaps being a priest, a policeman, a doctor in the emergency ward, or a psychologist listening to the litany of hundreds of people one gets to meet in the space of a week, or a month.
As Siddhartha the Prince discovered two-and-a-half millennium ago, there isn’t a family that has not suffered something or the other, chief of which is the pain on the body, or the pain on the mind, and most of all, the pain of lack empathy. For this is a pain about, which one can do so little, which shows us the limitations of citizenship.
That Siddhartha also saw the resilience of the human soul and mind and finding solutions of peace led to his great knowledge, the core of his teachings as the Buddha. More than once, the human rights activist sees this resilience and strength, the eventual utter lack of bitterness towards the assailant or the aggressor, be it the covetous neighbour or the rapacious State and its agencies
A visit to Assam with Harsh Mander and Navsaran Kaur, resuming the Karawan-e-Mohabbat earlier in February 2023 after the enforced hiatus following the Covid pandemic, which brought several of us close to the doors of death, and participation in a momentous demonstration by the national capital region’s Christian community, made us see once again the core issues that cut across the communities of the afflicted, their faiths, genders, economic status.
Even in the depth of the darkness of their descent as marginalised citizens – and sometimes have their citizenship itself challenged as much as their loyalty and patriotism — one sees their commitment to fraternity.
And with this bond with their fellow human beings, comes a faith in the state and the instruments of state. They, therefore, wonder how these instruments of the Constitution of India have not been faithful to their maternal policies and promises. The Constitution itself has been amended a hundred times or more, sometimes in facelifts, sometimes in serious meddling, an once or twice in surgical strikes that have left deep scars on the Statues Book as well as on the citizens.
And yet the citizen victim swears by it. In statements to fact finding teams and to the police, the victim affirms his or her faith in the rule of law, in the judiciary and in the police. They forget they have seen most police stations show signs of being close to a religious temple, and presiding officer carry his bigotry on his sleeve. They see the place as a house of fair play and justice.
And so it is with other institutions. Activists know the National Human Rights Commission, always headed by a retired Chief Justice of India to have degenerated into a pathetic crony of the executive hesitating to fault persons, parties and agencies in power for major crimes of offence or neglect. But the number of complaints it receives it legendary. The National Commission for Minorities is now a joke. It has no Christian member. Its Chairman takes lead in demanding strictures against Christians and Muslims. The commission for women and child protection work as sword arm of ruling parties. And yet victims file applications, hoping that in just their one solitary case, they may make an exception. And give justice.
The recent mass mobilisation by the Christian community is a case in point, first of all because of the rarity of its occurrence. There have been just five such mobilisations in the national capital in the last 70 years or so. The first five, if perhaps not in this order, were the anger displayed against the Anti Conversion Bill moved by O P Tyagi in Parliament seeking which would have amounted to a total ban. It was a private bill, and would have died a natural death, but for the fact that the government gave it support and adopted its argument, if not its exact words. A lakh of Christians marched through the city in a display of anguish, rather than anger. Despite its size, there was no skirmish between the people and the police, or with people of other faiths.
The gang rape of nuns in Gajraula, the hideous murder of Graham Stuart Staines and his sons Philip and Timothy in Orissa in 1999, the movement by Dalit Christians for restoration of rights snatched away back in 1950’s Presidential order. This meeting in Parliament Street was met by brutal violence by the police. No rifle shots were fired, but the baton charges left many women and men injured. Some had to be hospitalised.
There was no violence by the 20,000 gathered at Jantar Mantar. There were victims giving their testimony, and activists listing the laws violated by the State and by non-State actors. On display in more than ample measure was the search and commitment to peace and goodwill, and to the welfare of India.
(John Dayal is an author, editor, occasional documentary filmmaker and activist. He lives in New Delhi)
