A chance for the Army to look within
Lt Kamalesan case highlights tensions between an individual’s faith and institutional culture
LT Samuel Kamalesan must have been a proud man when he was commissioned in March 2017 into the 3rd Cavalry, an old and illustrious armoured regiment which had won battle honours in the 1965 and 1971 wars. Little would the young officer have imagined that barely four years later, the Chief of Army Staff would order his summary dismissal for “acts of misconduct”. The case entered the public domain when Kamalesan challenged the decision in the Delhi High Court. The court dismissed his appeal, finding no reason to interfere with the Army’s disciplinary action.
Opinion is sharply divided between those who consider any hint of criticism of the armed forces as “unpatriotic” and others who feel that in a democratic system of civilian control, the military should be accountable to the people through their elected representatives. Another view, which remains muted (for fear of judicial displeasure), holds that court interventions in recent years have forced the armed forces to alter policies, with potentially adverse effects on morale, personnel management and combat effectiveness. However, the Kamalesan case has wider, societal implications that transcend the usual civil-military debates and merits an open discussion.
First, the facts of the case. Given the religious diversity within its ranks, the Indian Army has established the unique institution of “Sarva Dharma Sthal” (multi-faith centres) in almost every major unit and station, where soldiers of all faiths can pray and where religious functions are conducted. These functions are treated as “regimental parades” and attendance is compulsory for all personnel, irrespective of faith.
Kamalesan’s offence was that despite repeated counselling, advice and direct orders, he refused to attend these functions, claiming that his Christian beliefs did not permit him to participate in the worship of “other gods.” Viewing his persistent refusal as a serious breach of discipline and regimental ethos, the Army dismissed him from service.
The court’s ruling prioritising unit cohesion over the officer’s religious beliefs may be legally unassailable, but it has sparked a debate in civil and military circles. While Kamalesan has paid the price for breaching discipline, the episode highlights tensions between an individual’s faith, tradition and the Indian Army’s institutional culture amidst the current social churn.
Over the past two decades, India has seen religion assuming an increasingly prominent and deeply polarising role in politics as well as society. This has been accompanied by assertive displays of religiosity. If the beard, hijab and burqa are seen increasingly in public, so are tilaks, vibhuti-smeared foreheads and sacred threads. Other consequences of this phenomenon include the incipient advent of segregation, ghettoisation and even persecution on religious grounds.
Against this backdrop, we must remind ourselves that India’s armed forces remain the strongest bond that holds our diverse and heterogeneous nation together. Apart from being defenders of the nation and its Constitution, they are also exemplars of unity, integrity, discipline and secularism for their compatriots. And while the Army remains the nation’s most respected institution, it has retained practices that accentuate religiosity, caste and regional identities: recruitment on caste/regional basis, religious functions treated as “regimental parades”, battle cries drawn from religious traditions and the sectarian identity of certain regiments.
India’s Army is the last major military in the democratic world that officially organises combat units along lines of caste, community and religion. In 1949, the Brigade of Guards was specifically created as the first “all-India, all-class” unit, and many of the arms and services, like artillery, engineers, aviation and signals, have followed suit. However, a bulk of the Army — including the infantry — still follows a fixed class composition and recruits primarily from specific communities, castes or regions.
Defended on the grounds of preserving “martial traditions” and signifying “regimental izzat”, these remnants of the colonial era now sit uneasily with the Republic’s constitutional promise of equality and secularism. Although the Army has steadfastly maintained that during recruitment, no discrimination is made on the basis of religion, race and caste, the existence of “fixed class units” such as Sikh, Rajput, Jat, Mahar, etc. will make it increasingly difficult for it to ward off future political demands that may arise for creating, say, Ahir, Yadav or Kurmi regiments.
Historically, religion, caste and the “martial races” theory were useful weapons for the British to implement their treacherous policies of “divide and rule” in India. The British Indian Army, especially after 1857, deliberately nurtured religious and caste identities because it believed doing so enhanced loyalty and fighting ability. Temples, mosques and gurdwaras were built on regimental lines; pandits, maulvis and granthis were officially appointed, and religiosity deliberately indulged in. The policy succeeded in its narrow aim of preventing another large-scale mutiny, but it also froze certain social categorisations in time. Independent India inherited that structure and successive generations of officers have defended it as indispensable to morale and “esprit de corps.”
While any criticism of the Army’s customs and traditions is bound to sound heretical to many, an essential question begs an answer. At a time when society is showing fissures along religious lines, should India’s Army continue to highlight distinctive identities based on ethnicity, caste and religion, or should it focus on “unity in diversity” as an uncompromising principle?
If exhortations to cast off our “colonial heritage” and overcome the “slave mentality” are to have any meaning, then a reappraisal of the Army’s inherited organising principles should get priority. Without suggesting abrupt or wholesale change, it is perhaps time to initiate a serious intra-Army discourse on three topics: (a) expediting expansion of all-India, all-class units, a process already accepted in principle, by the Army; (b) a review of compulsory attendance by all personnel at religious events that are organised; and (c) whether unit names that emphasise community identity can be supplemented or replaced by geographical or numerical titles.
Such steps, rather than diminishing the Army’s elan and heritage, would actually strengthen its status as a truly national institution that belongs equally to every Indian, regardless of faith, mother tongue or caste. India’s Navy and Air Force have embodied that ideal for 78 years, without any loss of elan or professionalism.
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