Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s effusive praise of three Muslims in recent speeches resembles a ray of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel of hate politics that this year has been. Whether this glimmer is a mirage or emanates from a flickering flame which will get extinguished in the gusts of Hindutva politics, we can hardly tell. But what we can certainly do is decipher the message Modi seeks to convey, and to whom.
Soon after the electoral drubbing the Bharatiya Janata Party received in Bihar, Modi said to a packed Wembley stadium in London, “My India resides in people like Imran Khan.” Because of the proverbial 15 minutes of fame Khan has had, we know he is a government schoolteacher in Alwar, Rajasthan, who has developed a series of educational apps that students can download free.
Then, in his most recent instalment of Mann Ki Baat, Modi referred to Noorjehan, a sprightly lady in a village in Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, who rents out solar lanterns to not only eke out a living but also to, consciously or otherwise, reduce India’s carbon footprint. He also spoke of Javed Ahmed, a Kashmiri who was paralysed when a terrorist’s bullet lodged in his spine. Instead of wallowing in misery, Ahmed has taken to running a school for the differently-abled.
Facilitators of growth
It is indeed legitimate to argue that we shouldn’t focus on the religious identity of these three inspiring citizens. After all, Modi did not identify them as Muslim. But then we can’t but also be reminded of Modi’s Gujarat assembly election campaign of 2002, when he insisted on expanding the full name of Chief Election Commissioner JM Lyngdoh – James Michael Lyngdoh – to his spellbound audience.
This was widely perceived as Modi’s ploy to suggest to his audience that there was a conspiracy afoot to have him voted out of power, only because he dared to represent the interests of Hindus. Then Modi had dissolved the assembly before its term was to expire, in the hope that an early election would enable him to take advantage of the communal polarisation triggered by the grisly rioting in early 2002.
However, Lyngdoh nixed Modi’s plan, ruling that the atmosphere in Gujarat wasn’t conducive for conducting a free and fair election. It stoked Modi’s fury and he took to naming James Michael Lyngdoh in just about every election meeting of his.
It would, therefore, be disingenuous to suggest that Modi was oblivious of the religious identity of Khan, Noorjehan and Ahmed, or that references to them weren’t aimed at communicating a certain message to his listeners. Most newspapers took note of it. For instance, The Times of India said, “This is the third instance [Ahmed] in recent weeks that the PM has held up examples of persons from the Muslim community to highlight how individuals are making a difference to society.”
No doubt, the three Muslims whom Modi mentioned are examples of citizens who overcame tough odds to not only improve their own lives but also better that of others. They symbolise Modi’s idea that India is bound to grow because his government will enable people to channelise their inexhaustible zeal for development, and facilitate the flowering of their genius for innovations.
Modi-esque idea of Muslims
From this perspective, the three Muslims, Modi seems to suggest, are as much part of the new India as any Hindu. It would seem an attempt to break the popular stereotype of Muslims being backward and impervious to change. In referring to Ahmed, the prime minister is also alluding to the fact that Muslims too are victim of gun-toting Islamists, who show no compunction in targeting their religious brethren.
However, these Modi-esque ideas will not be considered by Muslims as revealing insights into their collective personality. They can scarcely subscribe to the popular stereotype of which they are victim. They, as is true of any marginalised group, experience in their daily lives the constant struggle against poverty. They, too, have been trying to educate their children, many of whom have harnessed technology to improve upon the station of their parents. And they very well know that Islam doesn’t fuel terrorism – it is terrorists who seek to draw legitimacy from Islam.
This is why Modi’s reference to the three Muslims will not enthuse the community. In the prime minister’s references, however, they will find reason to hope that a day might come when he will take to calling a spade a spade. He belatedly told the Parliament this week that incidents of atrocity are a blot on the nation, and that patriotism of no Indian should be questioned.
Welcome though his remarks are, they don’t meet the expectations of the community which had hoped Modi would unambiguously name, condemn and initiate action against the Sangh affiliates and bigwigs who haven’t dithered from fanning the fire of hatred. Perhaps he can’t do this out of his own political compulsion, but it is an argument which will not have a sympathetic echo among Muslims. They certainly won’t feel inspired to join his cult of followers.
It is, therefore, pertinent to ask: In speaking of the three Muslims, who was Modi addressing his message to?
Limiting the damage
Modi’s recent speeches have been framed against the backdrop of writers and other eminent personalities returning their awards to protest against the rising intolerance in India. Neither he nor his party are enamoured of these conscionable protesters. But what they are perhaps apprehensive of is the influence Hindi and other regional language writers might have over a certain class of people.
This class of people does not necessarily comprise Leftists or English-speaking urban elites. This class is made of intellectuals and liberals who live in India’s decrepit towns. They are those who are neither atheist nor deracinated. They are likely to worship the cow, but who are repulsed by the idea of killing a human being in its name.
It is to them Modi is messaging through his reference to the three Muslims. He wishes to convey to them that he isn’t a regressive Hindu, that as prime minister he represents the interests of all communities.
He perhaps also hopes his message will restrain the Hindutva foot soldiers ever eager to turn India Hindu. To them, through his reference to the three Muslims, he is conveying that there are “good Muslims” around, and the entire community shouldn’t be tarred with the same brush as some among it too, quite selflessly, contribute to the nation’s progress.
You could take this as a belated attempt to lower the communal temperature, or complicate the narrative of the Sangh Parivar, which has weaned its activists on a rich diet of hatred against Muslims. However, his messaging also underlines his predicament – he cannot name the Sangh affiliates accused of fomenting tension and violence, much in the same way the Congress can’t accept that its own members fanned the 1984 anti-Sikh riots.
Islam or Sufism?
Modi remains the Hindu Hriday Samrat. He draws his sustenance from the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh. He loves power inordinately to even think of biting the hand which guided him to become prime minister. He isn’t one who is going to sacrifice his career to enter history books as one who dared his own organisation.
But this isn’t to say Modi has altered his worldview. He did try to exploit the beef controversy in the Bihar election. He also believes in the binary of “good Muslims” and “bad Muslims”. For instance, of late, he has chosen to invoke Sufism to extol Islam. He lavishes praise on the Sufi culture, which, he claims, will spread the “true picture of Islam” far and wide. The defining features of this “picture”, as he said in one of his Mann Ki Baat series, are love and generosity.
His is an erroneous understanding of both Islam and Sufism, however well-meaning it might be. The Sufis adhere to the tenets of Islam, to all its practices. What distinguishes them from other Muslims is the spiritual exercises they undertake to inculcate in their hearts a deep love for God, to come closer to Him, not for entering paradise, but because it is what they believe is the true nature of reality, the very meaning of life. This is not the path the Muslim masses embark on, nor can they, given the austerity and rigour inherent in the journey of the Sufis.
What perhaps the prime minister has in mind is the tradition of Muslims, as also people of other faiths, visiting the mausoleums of Sufi saints who lived decades, if not centuries, ago. He perhaps mistakes Sufi poetry and music for a thriving contemporary culture of Sufism. This isn’t true. The “true picture of Islam” is in Islam, not in Sufism. Both Sufism and Islam are inseparable. There is never, ever, a “true picture” of great religious traditions. In all of them can be located sources of love and generosity, hatred and violence.
For decades, Hindutva has portrayed Islam as the religion of the sword. Its luminaries, now in power, realise that this depiction inspires their followers to fight what they think are battles of religions, the consequences of which are severe. It is to stem such a societal crisis the Prime Minister has discovered Sufism to subtly argue against the stereotype he and others popularised.
A flawed understanding of the Muslim psyche can only lead to a caricaturing of the community, an etching out of a picture remarkably different from the lived reality. However, this caricaturing is presumably not guided by dubious intentions, the reason why no Muslim scholars have countered Modi’s reading of Islam and Sufism.
Indeed, from whichever perspective you see, Modi’s references to the three Muslims or his articulation of what he thinks are the true teachings of Islam are aimed at messaging to the liberal Hindus and Sangh foot soldiers. That Muslims see a glimmer of hope in this messaging is incidental, as also an indicator of their desperation. But they will wait, as will large sections of the nation, to pronounce their judgement on Modi’s makeover until Assam and Uttar Pradesh assembly elections.
Ajaz Ashraf is a journalist in Delhi. His novel, The Hour Before Dawn, has as its backdrop the demolition of the Babri Masjid. It is available in bookstores.
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Soon after the electoral drubbing the Bharatiya Janata Party received in Bihar, Modi said to a packed Wembley stadium in London, “My India resides in people like Imran Khan.” Because of the proverbial 15 minutes of fame Khan has had, we know he is a government schoolteacher in Alwar, Rajasthan, who has developed a series of educational apps that students can download free.
Then, in his most recent instalment of Mann Ki Baat, Modi referred to Noorjehan, a sprightly lady in a village in Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, who rents out solar lanterns to not only eke out a living but also to, consciously or otherwise, reduce India’s carbon footprint. He also spoke of Javed Ahmed, a Kashmiri who was paralysed when a terrorist’s bullet lodged in his spine. Instead of wallowing in misery, Ahmed has taken to running a school for the differently-abled.
Facilitators of growth
It is indeed legitimate to argue that we shouldn’t focus on the religious identity of these three inspiring citizens. After all, Modi did not identify them as Muslim. But then we can’t but also be reminded of Modi’s Gujarat assembly election campaign of 2002, when he insisted on expanding the full name of Chief Election Commissioner JM Lyngdoh – James Michael Lyngdoh – to his spellbound audience.
This was widely perceived as Modi’s ploy to suggest to his audience that there was a conspiracy afoot to have him voted out of power, only because he dared to represent the interests of Hindus. Then Modi had dissolved the assembly before its term was to expire, in the hope that an early election would enable him to take advantage of the communal polarisation triggered by the grisly rioting in early 2002.
However, Lyngdoh nixed Modi’s plan, ruling that the atmosphere in Gujarat wasn’t conducive for conducting a free and fair election. It stoked Modi’s fury and he took to naming James Michael Lyngdoh in just about every election meeting of his.
It would, therefore, be disingenuous to suggest that Modi was oblivious of the religious identity of Khan, Noorjehan and Ahmed, or that references to them weren’t aimed at communicating a certain message to his listeners. Most newspapers took note of it. For instance, The Times of India said, “This is the third instance [Ahmed] in recent weeks that the PM has held up examples of persons from the Muslim community to highlight how individuals are making a difference to society.”
No doubt, the three Muslims whom Modi mentioned are examples of citizens who overcame tough odds to not only improve their own lives but also better that of others. They symbolise Modi’s idea that India is bound to grow because his government will enable people to channelise their inexhaustible zeal for development, and facilitate the flowering of their genius for innovations.
Modi-esque idea of Muslims
From this perspective, the three Muslims, Modi seems to suggest, are as much part of the new India as any Hindu. It would seem an attempt to break the popular stereotype of Muslims being backward and impervious to change. In referring to Ahmed, the prime minister is also alluding to the fact that Muslims too are victim of gun-toting Islamists, who show no compunction in targeting their religious brethren.
However, these Modi-esque ideas will not be considered by Muslims as revealing insights into their collective personality. They can scarcely subscribe to the popular stereotype of which they are victim. They, as is true of any marginalised group, experience in their daily lives the constant struggle against poverty. They, too, have been trying to educate their children, many of whom have harnessed technology to improve upon the station of their parents. And they very well know that Islam doesn’t fuel terrorism – it is terrorists who seek to draw legitimacy from Islam.
This is why Modi’s reference to the three Muslims will not enthuse the community. In the prime minister’s references, however, they will find reason to hope that a day might come when he will take to calling a spade a spade. He belatedly told the Parliament this week that incidents of atrocity are a blot on the nation, and that patriotism of no Indian should be questioned.
Welcome though his remarks are, they don’t meet the expectations of the community which had hoped Modi would unambiguously name, condemn and initiate action against the Sangh affiliates and bigwigs who haven’t dithered from fanning the fire of hatred. Perhaps he can’t do this out of his own political compulsion, but it is an argument which will not have a sympathetic echo among Muslims. They certainly won’t feel inspired to join his cult of followers.
It is, therefore, pertinent to ask: In speaking of the three Muslims, who was Modi addressing his message to?
Limiting the damage
Modi’s recent speeches have been framed against the backdrop of writers and other eminent personalities returning their awards to protest against the rising intolerance in India. Neither he nor his party are enamoured of these conscionable protesters. But what they are perhaps apprehensive of is the influence Hindi and other regional language writers might have over a certain class of people.
This class of people does not necessarily comprise Leftists or English-speaking urban elites. This class is made of intellectuals and liberals who live in India’s decrepit towns. They are those who are neither atheist nor deracinated. They are likely to worship the cow, but who are repulsed by the idea of killing a human being in its name.
It is to them Modi is messaging through his reference to the three Muslims. He wishes to convey to them that he isn’t a regressive Hindu, that as prime minister he represents the interests of all communities.
He perhaps also hopes his message will restrain the Hindutva foot soldiers ever eager to turn India Hindu. To them, through his reference to the three Muslims, he is conveying that there are “good Muslims” around, and the entire community shouldn’t be tarred with the same brush as some among it too, quite selflessly, contribute to the nation’s progress.
You could take this as a belated attempt to lower the communal temperature, or complicate the narrative of the Sangh Parivar, which has weaned its activists on a rich diet of hatred against Muslims. However, his messaging also underlines his predicament – he cannot name the Sangh affiliates accused of fomenting tension and violence, much in the same way the Congress can’t accept that its own members fanned the 1984 anti-Sikh riots.
Islam or Sufism?
Modi remains the Hindu Hriday Samrat. He draws his sustenance from the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh. He loves power inordinately to even think of biting the hand which guided him to become prime minister. He isn’t one who is going to sacrifice his career to enter history books as one who dared his own organisation.
But this isn’t to say Modi has altered his worldview. He did try to exploit the beef controversy in the Bihar election. He also believes in the binary of “good Muslims” and “bad Muslims”. For instance, of late, he has chosen to invoke Sufism to extol Islam. He lavishes praise on the Sufi culture, which, he claims, will spread the “true picture of Islam” far and wide. The defining features of this “picture”, as he said in one of his Mann Ki Baat series, are love and generosity.
His is an erroneous understanding of both Islam and Sufism, however well-meaning it might be. The Sufis adhere to the tenets of Islam, to all its practices. What distinguishes them from other Muslims is the spiritual exercises they undertake to inculcate in their hearts a deep love for God, to come closer to Him, not for entering paradise, but because it is what they believe is the true nature of reality, the very meaning of life. This is not the path the Muslim masses embark on, nor can they, given the austerity and rigour inherent in the journey of the Sufis.
What perhaps the prime minister has in mind is the tradition of Muslims, as also people of other faiths, visiting the mausoleums of Sufi saints who lived decades, if not centuries, ago. He perhaps mistakes Sufi poetry and music for a thriving contemporary culture of Sufism. This isn’t true. The “true picture of Islam” is in Islam, not in Sufism. Both Sufism and Islam are inseparable. There is never, ever, a “true picture” of great religious traditions. In all of them can be located sources of love and generosity, hatred and violence.
For decades, Hindutva has portrayed Islam as the religion of the sword. Its luminaries, now in power, realise that this depiction inspires their followers to fight what they think are battles of religions, the consequences of which are severe. It is to stem such a societal crisis the Prime Minister has discovered Sufism to subtly argue against the stereotype he and others popularised.
A flawed understanding of the Muslim psyche can only lead to a caricaturing of the community, an etching out of a picture remarkably different from the lived reality. However, this caricaturing is presumably not guided by dubious intentions, the reason why no Muslim scholars have countered Modi’s reading of Islam and Sufism.
Indeed, from whichever perspective you see, Modi’s references to the three Muslims or his articulation of what he thinks are the true teachings of Islam are aimed at messaging to the liberal Hindus and Sangh foot soldiers. That Muslims see a glimmer of hope in this messaging is incidental, as also an indicator of their desperation. But they will wait, as will large sections of the nation, to pronounce their judgement on Modi’s makeover until Assam and Uttar Pradesh assembly elections.
Ajaz Ashraf is a journalist in Delhi. His novel, The Hour Before Dawn, has as its backdrop the demolition of the Babri Masjid. It is available in bookstores.