How we failed Fr. Swamy

QUITE often, I feel that Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi’s assassination was inevitable because a communally charged/violent Indian society was not ready to live with the Mahatma’s conscience — his lifelong quest for spiritualised politics, and Swaraj as decentralisation of power; or his longing for a simple and ecologically sustainable mode of living. In a way, Nathuram Godse symbolised what seemed to be more ‘practical’ to many — the centrality of brute force, the militaristic dream of modern nationalism, and the aggression of ‘development’. In a way, it was necessary to annihilate Gandhi’s utopias. Gandhi was an embarrassment for the power-hungry political class, and the gang of contractors, traders and the emergent elite.

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Likewise, these days yet another disturbing question is haunting me: As a society, do we deserve a man like Father Stan Swamy? His death — or the tragic end of his immensely altruistic and socially committed life-trajectory — reveals many things simultaneously: the absurdity of the mystified and complex legal system (imagine, as Hind Swaraj would indicate, Gandhi understood it so well) or the horror of Kafkaesque bureaucracy (was Stan Swamy like Joseph K in Franz Kafka’s The Trial?), the tyranny of power manifesting itself in the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act, the insensitivity or the process of dehumanisation that has corrupted the petty officials, and above all, the rising authoritarianism even amid all sorts of ‘democratic rituals’. Yes, believe it, Swamy had to die. Like Gandhi, he too was an embarrassment.

I am not sure whether political commentators would regard him as a Gandhian or an Ambedkarite. Moreover, in the eyes of the state, he was almost like a ‘terrorist’ with links with the banned Communist Party (Maoist). Yet, to me, he was beyond these labels or categories. Like Gandhi, he too was a noble soul. His commitment to the rights of adivasis and other marginalised groups, the critical voice he raised relating to land, forest and labour rights, or his deeply humanistic/spiritual urge to fight for the release of undertrials (our over-crowded prisons are full of them), or the spiritual strength in his simplicity and honesty—the hyper-masculine modern nation with its aggressive development agenda is incapable of appreciating the worth of this politico-spiritual treasure he carried with him. Hence, this 84-year-old Jesuit priest with severe Parkinson’s disease was seen as a conspirator, a threat to the mighty Indian state. He had to die. Was it simply a Covid-related death at the Holy Family Hospital in Mumbai — yet another addition in the official statistics? Or was it that multiple actors — NIA officials, the jail authorities, and even the judiciary—made it easier for him to die? There seems to be no escape from this question. Think of it. Swamy simply wanted a straw to drink water; the NIA took twenty days to file a reply. He filed for bail; the trial court took four months to hear the arguments and reject the bail application. Not solely that. The NIA refused to accept the severity of the Parkinson’s disease that inflicted his frail body.

However, there is yet another question we need to ask. Is it that as a society, our degeneration is almost complete, our values and aspirations have changed drastically, and our moral universe has crumbled? See the way the discourse of militant nationalism has made everything upside down: a stimulant/violent man — a man of the non-reflexive crowd intoxicated with the cacophony of Jai Shri Ram is seen to be a true deshbhakt, while the likes of father Swamy are castigated as ‘anti-national’ conspirators. See the way we have begun to value everything that is loud, noisy and gross—loud religion, loud nationalism, loud oratorical skill, loud politicians, and loud television anchors. Amid this loudness, how is it possible to listen to Swamy, or understand the angst of Sudha Bharadwaj and Prof Hany Babu? And see the way we have allowed the Adanis and the Ambanis to shape our ‘development’ discourse. How is it then possible to have a dialogue with Stan Swamy: his plea for the subaltern?

And see the way we — the middle class — have changed: the way we have allowed ourselves to be corrupted by psychic poisoning, the virus that the propaganda machinery of the ruling regime spreads, or the way we have allowed the cult of narcissism to diminish our creative and critical thinking. See the way we have begun to prioritise money over honesty, crude utility over ethics, instrumental reasoning over a lifelong commitment to a noble cause. Accept it, we do not want our children to be like Stan Swamy or Medha Patkar; nor do we want them to take Gandhi’s Experiments with Truth, or Bhagat Singh’s prison diary seriously. Instead, we want them to be street smart and ‘successful’—yes, well-fed/well-clothed slaves of the gigantic corporate empires. No wonder, we find what we deserve: goons wearing the garments of a saint, greedy capitalists projecting themselves as noble philanthropists, and mainstream politicians as the deputies of the techno-corporate empire.

Possibly, in the coming years we will continue to ‘elect’ our masters; we will continue to be impressed by the ‘success narratives’ of billionaires, Bollywood stars, cricketers, narcissistic political leaders and all sorts of deshbhakts. And some ‘foolish’ idealists will continue to experience what Stan Swamy passed through; we will become increasingly incapable of distinguishing political resistance from terrorism. Yet, our children will be taught by official educationists, celebrity babas and ‘star’ television anchors that everything is perfect with Indian democracy — its bureaucracy, it police, its legal system. Long live nationalism!

Sorry, Father Stan Swamy. We did not deserve you. You were an embarrassment for us.