Rooted cosmopolitanism
Sociologist
As a teacher, I have always found myself in a multicultural classroom characterised by heterogeneity, and yet a rhythm of connectedness. I have seen young Muslim girls wearing hijab, and reflecting sharply on Karl Marx and Michel Foucault. And I am lucky to find European students showing deep interest in Gandhi’s ‘experiments with truth’. Even though Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Christians, or students wearing hijab/turban/kurta/jeans occupy the same space, I have not found any problem. Instead, this visible diversity distinguishes a living/vibrant classroom from a bunch of Army jawans wearing the same uniform with soulless homogeneity. Furthermore, the exchange of ideas in a classroom of this kind seeks to accomplish what we ought to strive for: the ability to live with and learn from others, even when one is not ashamed of one’s cultural identity. This is what I regard as rooted cosmopolitanism; and a heterogeneous society like ours needs this.
Why should a Hindu be deprived of the ecstasy of Zen Buddhism or Sufism? You might love your hijab, but why should it be impossible for you to embrace Jesus’s sermon?
But then, it seems we live in a sick society characterised by majoritarian violence, intense cultural and psychic insecurity, and obsessive preoccupation with the way organised religions define and mark one’s identity. And, as the recent hijab row in Karnataka indicates, even our educational institutions are becoming toxic, regressive and divisive. Imagine college students, instead of engaging with deeper questions relating to science, philosophy and literature, are shouting slogans like ‘Jai Shri Ram’ or ‘Allahu Akbar’. They are supposed to be wanderers, work together, and enchant the classroom with a rigorous debate on great books and ideas. But then, the hyper-nationalist champions of Hindutva are so insecure that they feel threatened when they find a Muslim girl with hijab riding a motorcycle, and refusing to be silenced by their aggression. The tragedy is that academic bureaucrats, instead of cultivating the ethos of a dialogic/critical/reflexive pedagogy, get obsessed with the dress code. It is not secularism; it is essentially a design to target and humiliate the Muslim community.
As opposed to this communally charged environment, imagine a classroom where students are encouraged to ask a complex question like this: Can it be said that what one wears is necessarily always one’s free choice? Think of, for example, a beauty queen wearing a fancy garment. Is it a free choice? Or is it that the market-driven beauty industry and associated ‘brand’ consciousness have already defined what she should wear, even if she thinks she is modern and free from all orthodoxies? Likewise, when a Hindu woman sees sindoor as a distinctive symbol of her marital status, is she really free? Or, is it that she has already been conditioned by her religious tradition? It is possible that because of socialisation and resultant internalisation, this conditioning looks so normal and natural that she begins to see it as an act of her choice. Likewise, a Muslim girl too might confuse her conditioning with voluntarism when she says that she has freely chosen to veil herself. We can say that as culturally embedded beings, it is impossible to be absolutely free from the symbols like turban, sindoor, hijab or even American blue jeans. But then, to evolve and grow up as a mature learner is to be aware of this dialectic. Only then is it possible to be receptive, expand one’s horizon, realise that there is something more in life than what one wears or eats, and even cherish hybridity with the lightness of being.
The irony is that the all-pervading politics that manufactures and stimulates our limiting identities, ghettoises our consciousness, and erects walls of separation. While militant Hindu nationalists radiate the symbols of aggression, the Muslim clergy continue to defend oppressive practices to limit the movement of women. And amid this vicious cycle of majority communalism vs minority communalism, even our ‘secular’ parties, instead of pleading for multiculturalism or rooted cosmopolitanism, choose to remain diplomatic. It is tragic that we love to see ourselves as part of Muslim/Hindu/Jat/Dalit votebank. It is unlikely that the prevalent political culture can emancipate our consciousness. Is it, therefore, surprising that the political class is exploiting the controversy over the hijab row for utilitarian interests?
I have no hesitation in saying that it is only through a creatively nuanced critical pedagogy we can move towards a society that liberates itself from the burden of identity politics. It is in this context that the meaning of the art of living with heterogeneity and cultural pluralism has to be understood. I am born in a Hindu family. But then, why should it deprive me of the ecstasy of Zen Buddhism or Sufism? Or, you might love your hijab, but why should it be impossible for you to embrace Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount? Or, why should it be impossible to keep Karl Marx’s The Communist Manifesto as well as Thich Nhat Hanh’s Living Buddha, Living Christ on your bookshelf? A vibrant/dialogic classroom that opens the windows of consciousness can take us to the true spirit of multiculturalism — the spirit of fusion of horizons.
As an educator, I feel like urging these angry Hindu/Muslim students obsessed with their identity markers to pause, and think of, say, Gandhi and Tagore. Gandhi’s ‘sanatani Hinduism’ was inseparable from the touch of Tolstoy and Ruskin, and continual cross-religious conversations. Likewise, Tagore’s Upanishadic prayers enabled him to embrace the entire world, and interrogate the ideology of militaristic nationalism. They were the living illustrations of rooted cosmopolitanism. Will these students dare to learn?
