What a university protests against defines it as much as what it accepts. The present protest is over the deletion of the essay by Ramanujan on the Ramayan by the Academic Council. As in every protest in the university, the agency and autonomy of teachers is cited. That is fair and legitimate.
But what about the agency and autonomy of the student, which is routinely, systematically and legitimately violated by the construction of a perfectly coercive system of 'attendance'. The requirement of 66% attendance of the total number of lectures given in a term, is a method anticipated to ensure that students attend classes. Those students who routinely earn this, are rewarded by 5 marks which is added to the marks their score in their exams. Loathsome system, but it works. On an average, this ensures that classrooms are filled with a largely mute and unwilling audience.
What it also does is that it reduces 'attendance' to a resource, and a commodity. It becomes a commodity because it has an exchange value, as it can be translated into an immediate raise of 5 marks in one's score sheet. That it is a commodity, and a scarce one too, is betrayed by the language used to invoke it.
"Attendance de dijiye" ('Give me attendance')
"Attendance mil jayegi na?" ('I will give it wont I?')
"Aaj ki laga dijiye" ("Give me today's)
The panic, the anxiety, the chase for a scarce commodity is palpable for every lecturer. This is reflected in the routine announcements to those who are 'falling short'. The university is correspondingly granted the constructed authority to those dissent and protest and refuse to attend '66%' of classes..discipline and punish? Very much indeed.And the dissent is dismissed as 'bunking'.
We need to debunk the practice of bunking...and ask ourselves the question: why are we frightened of scrapping this system...Are we frightened of a bewildered lecturer finding an empty classroom? Maybe we are.
What is not is that the we dont protests. We dont protest enough.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Distorting Diplomacy?
I was temporarily besotted by the Oxford series 'very short introductions'. They are what they say they are, a rare quality admittedly. And as a consequence, a greedy reader ambitiously imagines that from "nothingness" to "chaos", these capsules will push him sufficiently close to the shore, where he can choose whether to wade deeper into the dark sea, or admire it from afar. That is me. Or was me.
While most have been charming, I am no longer confident of the purpose of these brief, but stimulating nudges towards an area of knowledge. After the introduction, and the tight smile and quick hello, I havent seriously pursued a lengthy conversation with any of the subjects I have collided, willingly, into.
I was however, very excited, but then quickly aggrieved when I saw one on 'Diplomacy'.
'Diplomacy' has been written by Joseph M. Siracusa, whom I had not heard of, although my position in the sea of diplomacy is comparable to a submarine, submerged but with the possibility of being bouyant. When I read the one on WTO, I was pleased that it is Amrita Narlikar...but Siracusa? Not so sure really. I would have much preferred if that gorgeous mind, James der Derian had been asked to write it. Berhaal.
Siracusa disappoints, not only because, unlike Der Derian, he is not honest enough to admit that he is dealing with only 'Western, westphalian diplomacy', but because of the important diplomatic 'moments' he chooses to focus on. He looks at, a. the Diplomacy of the American Revolution, b. The Diplomacy of the Great War and Versailles, c. The night Churchill and Stalin divided Europe. But what is most unjustifiable was an entire chapter on the ANZUS treaty, one negotiated between the US and Australia. Scintillating stuff, no doubt. But an whole chapter in a work limited to 138 pages solely between Australia and the US? Inexplicable!
No, actually it is. Siracusa currently teaches at Griffith University, Australia.
While most have been charming, I am no longer confident of the purpose of these brief, but stimulating nudges towards an area of knowledge. After the introduction, and the tight smile and quick hello, I havent seriously pursued a lengthy conversation with any of the subjects I have collided, willingly, into.
I was however, very excited, but then quickly aggrieved when I saw one on 'Diplomacy'.
'Diplomacy' has been written by Joseph M. Siracusa, whom I had not heard of, although my position in the sea of diplomacy is comparable to a submarine, submerged but with the possibility of being bouyant. When I read the one on WTO, I was pleased that it is Amrita Narlikar...but Siracusa? Not so sure really. I would have much preferred if that gorgeous mind, James der Derian had been asked to write it. Berhaal.
Siracusa disappoints, not only because, unlike Der Derian, he is not honest enough to admit that he is dealing with only 'Western, westphalian diplomacy', but because of the important diplomatic 'moments' he chooses to focus on. He looks at, a. the Diplomacy of the American Revolution, b. The Diplomacy of the Great War and Versailles, c. The night Churchill and Stalin divided Europe. But what is most unjustifiable was an entire chapter on the ANZUS treaty, one negotiated between the US and Australia. Scintillating stuff, no doubt. But an whole chapter in a work limited to 138 pages solely between Australia and the US? Inexplicable!
No, actually it is. Siracusa currently teaches at Griffith University, Australia.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
The Third World Syllabus: Old, Wheezing Xerox Machines
How does one explain the enormity of the Treaty of Westphalia to classroom of students for whom 'Teen Murti Library' is in a 'VIP area'? For whom Europe is a stain, with a struggling to shrug off a boot?
This is not to suggest that tourists have remarkably grey, grey cells, or that to travel is to know. One needs to swiftly pass through the darkness of Ghosh's 'The Shadow Lines' to be reminded what Yuddhishter quietly observed: to travel and to move are two entirely different things. They frequently are conjoined, but part again amicably. But to move, often becomes the defining motto. For the tourist, to move is to get away. And for students, and teachers for whom 'to move' often means to get on with the syllabus. And for an excellent examination of the distinctions between travelling and toursism see Wanda Vrasti's essay here http://www.politicsandculture.org/2010/08/10/wanda-vrasti-the-politics-economics-and-ethics-of-independent-travel-rewriting-the-ethnography-of-the-travel-trope-2/). How does one move on from the alien and strange syllabus of International Relations and World History? One where wars are being waged in a moment and time and land lost in the past? Disembodied and ruptured from one's own train of memory?
The tragedy is that Europe, the World, Latin America, The Past, and Memory are all taught coldly, through a really dry map called the syllabus. And as Pouliot points out, there was a time when maps and syllabi's were not standardised pieces of paper printed in a machine, but had lovely tiny details: where can the traveller stop for a drink of water, which tree is really shady and where will one come across that tempting bunch of berries, which one MUST not eat? Such maps and syllabi no longer exist.
What one has instead is a dry, informative and universal roapmap. Where does one begin with International Relations? With the First World War. Where does one end? with the post cold war period. And in this entire universe which the student enters, a world which INTERSECTS with the history of South Asia at several points, but those points are severed and bled dry. So the fact that India Gate was built for those soldiers who fought during the war is not a part of international relations, or that the end of the Ottoman Empire seeped into the nationalist discourse is not...and that rich debate between Bose and Nehru on the issue of 'what is right for an empire, is not right for the colony' is passed over.
Its a pity. Because Europe again, and the world again, is taught as a world out there. compact and coherent. but for how much longer can one ignore those leaky taps, whose waters dismiss sovereignty and territory with a quick wave? And why isnt Salman Rushdie's The Enchantress of Florence a text in IR to demonstrate the leakiness and weariness of the true 'age of empires'.
This is not to suggest that tourists have remarkably grey, grey cells, or that to travel is to know. One needs to swiftly pass through the darkness of Ghosh's 'The Shadow Lines' to be reminded what Yuddhishter quietly observed: to travel and to move are two entirely different things. They frequently are conjoined, but part again amicably. But to move, often becomes the defining motto. For the tourist, to move is to get away. And for students, and teachers for whom 'to move' often means to get on with the syllabus. And for an excellent examination of the distinctions between travelling and toursism see Wanda Vrasti's essay here http://www.politicsandculture.org/2010/08/10/wanda-vrasti-the-politics-economics-and-ethics-of-independent-travel-rewriting-the-ethnography-of-the-travel-trope-2/). How does one move on from the alien and strange syllabus of International Relations and World History? One where wars are being waged in a moment and time and land lost in the past? Disembodied and ruptured from one's own train of memory?
The tragedy is that Europe, the World, Latin America, The Past, and Memory are all taught coldly, through a really dry map called the syllabus. And as Pouliot points out, there was a time when maps and syllabi's were not standardised pieces of paper printed in a machine, but had lovely tiny details: where can the traveller stop for a drink of water, which tree is really shady and where will one come across that tempting bunch of berries, which one MUST not eat? Such maps and syllabi no longer exist.
What one has instead is a dry, informative and universal roapmap. Where does one begin with International Relations? With the First World War. Where does one end? with the post cold war period. And in this entire universe which the student enters, a world which INTERSECTS with the history of South Asia at several points, but those points are severed and bled dry. So the fact that India Gate was built for those soldiers who fought during the war is not a part of international relations, or that the end of the Ottoman Empire seeped into the nationalist discourse is not...and that rich debate between Bose and Nehru on the issue of 'what is right for an empire, is not right for the colony' is passed over.
Its a pity. Because Europe again, and the world again, is taught as a world out there. compact and coherent. but for how much longer can one ignore those leaky taps, whose waters dismiss sovereignty and territory with a quick wave? And why isnt Salman Rushdie's The Enchantress of Florence a text in IR to demonstrate the leakiness and weariness of the true 'age of empires'.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
What Bhartrihari can Teach Professors of International Relations Theory
I suspect that Spivak asked the wrong question. It is not, can the subaltern speak. It is which language will the subaltern speak in?
In the March issue of Millennium - Journal of International Studies (one of the few brave journals in the world of International Relations theory, brave enough to utter 'Pablo Neruda' and 'Raina Maria Rilke' during serious and solemn investigations of the international) there two articles which discussed the possibility and implausibility of 'Non western International Relations Theory'. The discussion was between Amitav Acharya, whose naivete is almost charming, and Kimberly Hutchings. Both appear to agree that one must 'look' for non Western IR theory. Acharya's essay is therefore aptly named, Dialogue and Discovey: in Search of International Relations Theory Beyond the Rest.
The urgency in their tone is unmistakable: there has been a WW (white and western) war waged in International Relations theory. Like all other world wars, this started off in Europe and Great Britain and then later, involved the United States. And like the previous two world wars, the exodus to the United States has led a shift in power, money and intellect to that state. Now weary of waltzing in the same continent, theorists look elsewhere for stimulating, richer and denser theories to explain the mess this world is in.
How arrogant is that? This quest and petition to broaden the epistomological, ontological, methodological theoretical horizons is based, again, on the assumption that such a theory exists, and that it can be captured. That irrespective of the fact that academia today, is structured in in codes and rules which debilitate the growth of 'indegenious knowledge'? More importantly, what is the 'non west?
The Phd was invented by the Germans, along with chemical weapons and the Holocaust (btw, the source of this information is the incredibly dazzling work by Peter Watson 'A Terrible Beauty'. Watson fills his work which is like a dense, rich and dark forest with a multitude of shiny facts. Such as: the fabric for Freud's clothes were picked by his wife. Now, THAT is important.) Getting back to the PhD, the world is intellectually structured in a manner designed, engineered and controlled by the West. Citations, publications, PhD's, presentations, seminars are all, all, all forms of generation of knowledge, in the West. Anonymity and agnosticism may have been familiar to scholars and pundits in pre-globalized and non-western worlds, but the reduction of the planet to 'one world' means, that thoughts and intellect are modelled uniformly. This uniformity in expectation of the 'intellectual' (Ivy league university professor, German/French/American origin, Holocaust hater, and yes, WW) blocks, very effectively, the acknowledgement of a intellectual who does not possess these traits.
Like Bhartrihari. So even while scholars like Onuf, discuss the works of Wittgenstein the study of language, even when Hutchings speaks dialogue and then, discusses the ancient Greeks and Habermas, there is a rich dense work which exists behind a door, which is never knocked at. The Jain philosophy, for instance, speaks in a language which is completely post-modern. The Jains argue that there are multiple ways of looking at the same object and difference does not mean hierarchy. There can be multiple truths. But is the Jain philosophy drawn into the main discourse with the same conviction and confidence, Bourdieu is? No. Because Bourdieu is published, French and white. Another example: Bhartrihari's vakyapada should be made mandatory reading for all WW's. The Sanskrit linguist and scholar fundamentally differentiates between that which can be expressed, and that which cannot. That which can be is shabda and that which cannot is sphota. Bhartrihari's beauty lies in the assumption that there are limits to the expressions of language, and that which is unexpressed and indescribable is luminous only because it is unexpressed, inexpressable and indescribable.
It is therefore a pity, that while scholars yawn with boredom with 'Western IR Theory', there is a great deal of reluctance to open the world to scholars, who may not have done a PhD or thoughts which have not been 'peer reviewed'.
In the March issue of Millennium - Journal of International Studies (one of the few brave journals in the world of International Relations theory, brave enough to utter 'Pablo Neruda' and 'Raina Maria Rilke' during serious and solemn investigations of the international) there two articles which discussed the possibility and implausibility of 'Non western International Relations Theory'. The discussion was between Amitav Acharya, whose naivete is almost charming, and Kimberly Hutchings. Both appear to agree that one must 'look' for non Western IR theory. Acharya's essay is therefore aptly named, Dialogue and Discovey: in Search of International Relations Theory Beyond the Rest.
The urgency in their tone is unmistakable: there has been a WW (white and western) war waged in International Relations theory. Like all other world wars, this started off in Europe and Great Britain and then later, involved the United States. And like the previous two world wars, the exodus to the United States has led a shift in power, money and intellect to that state. Now weary of waltzing in the same continent, theorists look elsewhere for stimulating, richer and denser theories to explain the mess this world is in.
How arrogant is that? This quest and petition to broaden the epistomological, ontological, methodological theoretical horizons is based, again, on the assumption that such a theory exists, and that it can be captured. That irrespective of the fact that academia today, is structured in in codes and rules which debilitate the growth of 'indegenious knowledge'? More importantly, what is the 'non west?
The Phd was invented by the Germans, along with chemical weapons and the Holocaust (btw, the source of this information is the incredibly dazzling work by Peter Watson 'A Terrible Beauty'. Watson fills his work which is like a dense, rich and dark forest with a multitude of shiny facts. Such as: the fabric for Freud's clothes were picked by his wife. Now, THAT is important.) Getting back to the PhD, the world is intellectually structured in a manner designed, engineered and controlled by the West. Citations, publications, PhD's, presentations, seminars are all, all, all forms of generation of knowledge, in the West. Anonymity and agnosticism may have been familiar to scholars and pundits in pre-globalized and non-western worlds, but the reduction of the planet to 'one world' means, that thoughts and intellect are modelled uniformly. This uniformity in expectation of the 'intellectual' (Ivy league university professor, German/French/American origin, Holocaust hater, and yes, WW) blocks, very effectively, the acknowledgement of a intellectual who does not possess these traits.
Like Bhartrihari. So even while scholars like Onuf, discuss the works of Wittgenstein the study of language, even when Hutchings speaks dialogue and then, discusses the ancient Greeks and Habermas, there is a rich dense work which exists behind a door, which is never knocked at. The Jain philosophy, for instance, speaks in a language which is completely post-modern. The Jains argue that there are multiple ways of looking at the same object and difference does not mean hierarchy. There can be multiple truths. But is the Jain philosophy drawn into the main discourse with the same conviction and confidence, Bourdieu is? No. Because Bourdieu is published, French and white. Another example: Bhartrihari's vakyapada should be made mandatory reading for all WW's. The Sanskrit linguist and scholar fundamentally differentiates between that which can be expressed, and that which cannot. That which can be is shabda and that which cannot is sphota. Bhartrihari's beauty lies in the assumption that there are limits to the expressions of language, and that which is unexpressed and indescribable is luminous only because it is unexpressed, inexpressable and indescribable.
It is therefore a pity, that while scholars yawn with boredom with 'Western IR Theory', there is a great deal of reluctance to open the world to scholars, who may not have done a PhD or thoughts which have not been 'peer reviewed'.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
The Metro As Metaphor
In 2010, I forget which month, the Delhi government designated the first bogie of every metro train as an exclusive feminine space. DTC buses have reserved seats on the left hand side of the bus for a long time, but passengers have been looking ahead, not at each other. The seating arrangement of the metro places passengers in a conversational/confrontational mode, brings about a different dynamics. And this is what this poem is about.
Futile pink lines
Cannot leash these beasts
Who watch wistfully
This mobile zenanakhana
And on the other side
Eyes lined with mascaraed anxieties
Are grateful
For this temporary sarkari relief
From the beast
within
And,
men and women
man and woman
biologically bound
but categorically seperated
Silently and sullenly
are hurtled into
The darkness of togetherness
Men and women
chained and channeled
Wheeled, woven, weft
and warped
Watch each other
Like suspicious
and strange animals
Tied to the same pole
And are hurled
in the darkness of togetherness
Futile pink lines
Cannot leash these beasts
Who watch wistfully
This mobile zenanakhana
And on the other side
Eyes lined with mascaraed anxieties
Are grateful
For this temporary sarkari relief
From the beast
within
And,
men and women
man and woman
biologically bound
but categorically seperated
Silently and sullenly
are hurtled into
The darkness of togetherness
Men and women
chained and channeled
Wheeled, woven, weft
and warped
Watch each other
Like suspicious
and strange animals
Tied to the same pole
And are hurled
in the darkness of togetherness
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Potted Love
I potted my love
In this pot
This pot is mine
I potted my plant;
Tore it by the roots
Yanked the clinging tendrils
From the jungle
And placed it in this pot.
My pot.
And so I thought
Foolishly.
This potted plant.
This love.
Is mine.
I pulled it out
And now,
It is here.
And mine.
Upheaval and possession.
Destruction and possession.
Violence and love.
Inseparable, no?
The possessed potted plant,
however.
Succumbed not
To the watery pleasures I offered.
And chose instead
to gaze at the sun
the stars
and sun
And when the stars too
fell asleep
My potted and bottled love
Secretly dug its roots
deep into the very soul of this earth
Where it could gently nudge
Kiss and embrace
The roots
of its jungli loves and lovers
In this pot
This pot is mine
I potted my plant;
Tore it by the roots
Yanked the clinging tendrils
From the jungle
And placed it in this pot.
My pot.
And so I thought
Foolishly.
This potted plant.
This love.
Is mine.
I pulled it out
And now,
It is here.
And mine.
Upheaval and possession.
Destruction and possession.
Violence and love.
Inseparable, no?
The possessed potted plant,
however.
Succumbed not
To the watery pleasures I offered.
And chose instead
to gaze at the sun
the stars
and sun
And when the stars too
fell asleep
My potted and bottled love
Secretly dug its roots
deep into the very soul of this earth
Where it could gently nudge
Kiss and embrace
The roots
of its jungli loves and lovers
The Politics of Colours?
paint/pānt/
Verb: Cover the surface of (something) with paint, as decoration or protection.
Noun: A colored substance that is spread over a surface and dries to leave a thin decorative or protective coating.
The Ministry of Environment and Forest is predictably painted a pale shade of green. There are few explanations for its peculiar name: aren't the forests a part of the environment? The same way the tiger is part of the forests, but the Indian government believes that it can 'save the tiger', but destroy its habitat.But eventually, I suspect, everything will end up in the museum, like the Red Indians.
Confounding indeed. The common citizen is constantly confounded by these injunctions: save water, save the crocodile, plant trees, save paper, save the girl child (what is a 'girl child'? Either one is a boy or a girl, or a child or an adult, but 'girl child'?), save electricity. Save the planet too. The Ministry however, cannot be saved. This July, Jairam Ramesh handed the reins over to Jayanthi Natarajan. Ramesh is now in the Rural Development Ministry. With the likelihood of the Land Acquisition Bill being passed, Ramesh is in the right Ministry to ably handle the media and the spotlight. What is of graver concern is that the new Minister, Jayanthi Natarjan is not really known for her concern for the environment, or ahem, forests.
But that is the real point, or as the CSE would put it, the real 'dirt'. Climate change politics is not about climate or change. Scholars and academics and journalists are almost unanimous on this point that climate change is distinctly threatening to life, as we know it. Michael Grubb, editor of Climate Policy, argues 'tackling climate change is technically and economically entirely possible...it is politics that stands in the way'. I might as well state, 'world peace is possible, but states stand in the way'. Elsewhere, Lavanya Rajamani, states that India's policy of not undertaking commitments is 'unsagacious'. An incredible scholar, true. But sagacity has seldom been an element in formulating foreign policy.
The ethics of green politics is limited to painting buildings green: its easy, visible and symbolic. But meaningless.
Verb: Cover the surface of (something) with paint, as decoration or protection.
Noun: A colored substance that is spread over a surface and dries to leave a thin decorative or protective coating.
The Ministry of Environment and Forest is predictably painted a pale shade of green. There are few explanations for its peculiar name: aren't the forests a part of the environment? The same way the tiger is part of the forests, but the Indian government believes that it can 'save the tiger', but destroy its habitat.But eventually, I suspect, everything will end up in the museum, like the Red Indians.
Confounding indeed. The common citizen is constantly confounded by these injunctions: save water, save the crocodile, plant trees, save paper, save the girl child (what is a 'girl child'? Either one is a boy or a girl, or a child or an adult, but 'girl child'?), save electricity. Save the planet too. The Ministry however, cannot be saved. This July, Jairam Ramesh handed the reins over to Jayanthi Natarajan. Ramesh is now in the Rural Development Ministry. With the likelihood of the Land Acquisition Bill being passed, Ramesh is in the right Ministry to ably handle the media and the spotlight. What is of graver concern is that the new Minister, Jayanthi Natarjan is not really known for her concern for the environment, or ahem, forests.
But that is the real point, or as the CSE would put it, the real 'dirt'. Climate change politics is not about climate or change. Scholars and academics and journalists are almost unanimous on this point that climate change is distinctly threatening to life, as we know it. Michael Grubb, editor of Climate Policy, argues 'tackling climate change is technically and economically entirely possible...it is politics that stands in the way'. I might as well state, 'world peace is possible, but states stand in the way'. Elsewhere, Lavanya Rajamani, states that India's policy of not undertaking commitments is 'unsagacious'. An incredible scholar, true. But sagacity has seldom been an element in formulating foreign policy.
The ethics of green politics is limited to painting buildings green: its easy, visible and symbolic. But meaningless.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
On Colonialism
(yes, this poem was thought of while writing an essay on India's foreign policy. Crazy? Yes.)
Nations unaligned, but bound
Different, but lying with the same language
Each night
That seductress
Language
The teacher of 'how to open mouths'
That when the words spill out
They taste similar
Familiar
Even intimate
But are licked
By a foreign tongue
Nations unaligned, but bound
Different, but lying with the same language
Each night
That seductress
Language
The teacher of 'how to open mouths'
That when the words spill out
They taste similar
Familiar
Even intimate
But are licked
By a foreign tongue
Blindness
How can one believe
That it takes blindness
to see
To be blinded
to believe
And that all ways of seeing
need a bit of blinding
That it takes blindness
to see
To be blinded
to believe
And that all ways of seeing
need a bit of blinding
Monday, September 5, 2011
Moss
This poem was written after a weekend in Shimla, after I had walked around the Viceregal Lodge.
The moss
crept over the rocks quietly
murmuring to itself
wrapping secrets within that green density
Moss
that verdant lining
which lies with the pavement
licks the tree trunks
with its furry tongue
and it watched
quietly, wistfully, watchfully
The maps and the geographers
The globes and the kings
the chandeliers and the dresses
Till,
Lady Edwina cried out
"a dress, a dress...the colour of green velvet"
and whispered to the tailor hoarsely, 'mossy'
And that evening
the pins shone in her hair
her skin glistened with a strange light
and the green...mossy...dress
clung, clung, clung
and Lady Edwina whirled, whirled, whirled
Into the dark secretive night
But when she climbed into bed
and cried for the maids to
Pull out the pins, the stars. the dress
the dress clung on.
and licked harder.
and whispered to itself:
cling.
The moss
crept over the rocks quietly
murmuring to itself
wrapping secrets within that green density
Moss
that verdant lining
which lies with the pavement
licks the tree trunks
with its furry tongue
and it watched
quietly, wistfully, watchfully
The maps and the geographers
The globes and the kings
the chandeliers and the dresses
Till,
Lady Edwina cried out
"a dress, a dress...the colour of green velvet"
and whispered to the tailor hoarsely, 'mossy'
And that evening
the pins shone in her hair
her skin glistened with a strange light
and the green...mossy...dress
clung, clung, clung
and Lady Edwina whirled, whirled, whirled
Into the dark secretive night
But when she climbed into bed
and cried for the maids to
Pull out the pins, the stars. the dress
the dress clung on.
and licked harder.
and whispered to itself:
cling.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The Ancien regime and Anna
On Tuesday morning, a group of teachers of the Political Science Dept, decided to take the students across to the Ram Lila Maidan. Would this effort have been made if Ram Lila Maidan was not across the road from where they teach, Zakir Hussain College? Am not sure really.
The students stood around the dais, from where Anna was not visible. news channels sniffed out that they were students and predictably pestered them about why they support and why not. Anna, we were told that, is inside, and today's Indian Express reports that backstage there is a bathroom and a small rest room. So I suppose that's where 'they' were. The team.
The reports which I had heard and read about appeared to be accurate. There were indeed a large number of volunteers. I was led to the women's cordoned off area, where a lot of women, not the university or the activist type, sat. There were a lot of people clowning around too, much to the satisfaction of the media. A 'shiv believer' indulged in an hour long dance. and a man stomped by clanging a plate with a spoon. Buffonry yes, malicious not.
But what surprised me the most, was this unianimous suspicion voiced by my colleagues, in the staff room, in the newspapers, by Pratap Bhanu Mehta who tried so hard to be radical in yesterday's editorial, but no matter how hard he tries, he is as conformist as it gets see (http://www.indianexpress.com/news/fix-the-holes-in-the-house/835536/).
Who is funding Anna?
This does not represent 'civil society'.
The corporates are backing this.
This is 'too middle class'.
What is his agenda?
Does the youth know that Anna believes that liquour should not be consumed (Tavleen Singh in the Express).
Is this 'the people' (Arundhati Roy in the Hindu?)
This is blackmail.
People will start sitting like this for every bill.
The consensus stems from the academic world, who decide to write off this phenomenon which is galvanizing everybody. At this point, it does not matter whether Anna is being funded or not (everybody is funded) or whether he believes in drinking or not (he is not the next Manu, so we need not worry). Nor does this Ram lila maidan protest in any way, belittle the protests and struggles of others. Whether is secular or not. Is shouting Inquilab Zindabad the surest test of secularism. Is the singing of bhajans a blanket indicator that Anna is in arms with the RSS?
The point is that there is a new grammar of politics. and the ancien regime is not learning the new lingo. Sonia, who my plumber believes has 'run away' to the US is not missed. Frankly, I do not see what she would have done either. Nor does her son have much to say about anything anyway.
And in the meantime, after college when I decide to go to Teen Murti library, I am rudely told that its closed, as the Prime Minister is visiting. what can one say to that now?
The students stood around the dais, from where Anna was not visible. news channels sniffed out that they were students and predictably pestered them about why they support and why not. Anna, we were told that, is inside, and today's Indian Express reports that backstage there is a bathroom and a small rest room. So I suppose that's where 'they' were. The team.
The reports which I had heard and read about appeared to be accurate. There were indeed a large number of volunteers. I was led to the women's cordoned off area, where a lot of women, not the university or the activist type, sat. There were a lot of people clowning around too, much to the satisfaction of the media. A 'shiv believer' indulged in an hour long dance. and a man stomped by clanging a plate with a spoon. Buffonry yes, malicious not.
But what surprised me the most, was this unianimous suspicion voiced by my colleagues, in the staff room, in the newspapers, by Pratap Bhanu Mehta who tried so hard to be radical in yesterday's editorial, but no matter how hard he tries, he is as conformist as it gets see (http://www.indianexpress.com/news/fix-the-holes-in-the-house/835536/).
Who is funding Anna?
This does not represent 'civil society'.
The corporates are backing this.
This is 'too middle class'.
What is his agenda?
Does the youth know that Anna believes that liquour should not be consumed (Tavleen Singh in the Express).
Is this 'the people' (Arundhati Roy in the Hindu?)
This is blackmail.
People will start sitting like this for every bill.
The consensus stems from the academic world, who decide to write off this phenomenon which is galvanizing everybody. At this point, it does not matter whether Anna is being funded or not (everybody is funded) or whether he believes in drinking or not (he is not the next Manu, so we need not worry). Nor does this Ram lila maidan protest in any way, belittle the protests and struggles of others. Whether is secular or not. Is shouting Inquilab Zindabad the surest test of secularism. Is the singing of bhajans a blanket indicator that Anna is in arms with the RSS?
The point is that there is a new grammar of politics. and the ancien regime is not learning the new lingo. Sonia, who my plumber believes has 'run away' to the US is not missed. Frankly, I do not see what she would have done either. Nor does her son have much to say about anything anyway.
And in the meantime, after college when I decide to go to Teen Murti library, I am rudely told that its closed, as the Prime Minister is visiting. what can one say to that now?
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The Colours of Opposition?
On a gray and breezy morning, a thick and orange crowd of people were collecting outside Ramlila Maidan. This was the ninth of August. and the occasion was a demonstration of the right wing Opposition. The crowd was male, mostly. and as they ambled past the gates of Zakir Hussain college in their mass printed orange T-shirts, policemen in khakhi brown uniforms hovered around. They didnt look worried. or concerned. They were just there. Huge banners had been strung around the maidan. Most of them had Anurag Thakur, in a black Nehru jacket, looking into the distance with an outstretched arm. He looked unconvincing and unconvinced in this exercise. Thats where the oppposition falters in this state. They remain diffident and unpersuaded in the cause that they uphold. and that 'unconviction' speaks loudly. Most loudly, when they wear their orange t-shirts and collect on a gray and breezy day.
Inside the classroom, as the students settled in, I could hear cries of Bharat Mata ki jai from across the road. The students were unperturbed. A few smiled cautiously, the way they always do. they are shy, and sometimes diffident. (but I have noticed, that when I remember their names and treat them with the respect that they deserve, a certain light begins to shine in their eyes.
The lecture began. The year is 1914. The first world war breaks out. and after Germany invades Belgium, the true offensive begins. The soldiers in the French army, Michael Howard tells us, wore scarlet trousers. The colours of the revolution, or atleast, one of them. They wore them to their detriment, as the count of the dead would later reveal. but the tradition of politicizing colours persists.
And finally, I picked Lessing's To Room Nineteen from the library.
Inside the classroom, as the students settled in, I could hear cries of Bharat Mata ki jai from across the road. The students were unperturbed. A few smiled cautiously, the way they always do. they are shy, and sometimes diffident. (but I have noticed, that when I remember their names and treat them with the respect that they deserve, a certain light begins to shine in their eyes.
The lecture began. The year is 1914. The first world war breaks out. and after Germany invades Belgium, the true offensive begins. The soldiers in the French army, Michael Howard tells us, wore scarlet trousers. The colours of the revolution, or atleast, one of them. They wore them to their detriment, as the count of the dead would later reveal. but the tradition of politicizing colours persists.
And finally, I picked Lessing's To Room Nineteen from the library.
Friday, August 5, 2011
the wars within and the wars out there
Friday morning. Nine O clock class. a general discussion on Realist scholars scheduled. I had asked the third year undergraduate to read about three of them: Carr, Morganthau and Waltz. At nine, I find seven students waiting. The weather this morning is not torturous and from this tiny classroom on the third floor of the building, a heavy and sweet breeze flow. the students however, are unprepared and unrepentant.
I walk out. after an agitated outburst, of course. but a minute later, am plagued by dilemmas on whether I should have reverted to a lecture which would have meant, again, that passivity, which I am trying to combat. I decided, that it was right. and on Monday morning, again at nine, we shall see if this worked or not.
I spent this hour instead, in the library, where I read Martha Nussbaum's The Class Within, where she examines the emergence of the right wing in India. Of course, we know that Martha teaches at the Divinity School at Chicago University. Very very impressive. and the radiates with a certain alarm at the rise of bjp and especially the february 27, 2002 incident in Gujarat which resulted in the genocide. I cannot complete the book, but I get a general idea of the book which is not new of course. The college bell rings, and I have to deliver a lecture on the outbreak of the first world war.
All the textbooks, start off with the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand. It is so typical of modern history to want to emperically identify, a time, a date, a place. and just like the Sabarmati express, the assasination is not event. its a manifestation of an unignorable intent. A deep desire which transcends time and space. but results in blood and war.
I showed them pictures of Kaiser Wilhelm II. and they were taken in by the fancy headgear with the eagle on the top. and their eyes widened when I told them why he holds his left hand in his right. but the moment of serendipity took place on the bus home, when I was reading Siddharth Mukherjee's terrific, terrific account of a terrifying disease. and on page 85, Wilhem II swims to the surface, just when I thought I had left him in room no. 312: In 1908 the Kaiser invites Ehlrich, the man who has discovered 'special affinity' to a private audience in his palace to enquire if he has a cure for cancer. The king is a hypochondriac, but doesnt have the patience to listen to Ehlrich's stories of his chemicals and the possibilities they hold. 'he cut the audience short'. thats the last we hear of the Kaiser. what we do hear is the monstrous use of mustard gas, which forces soldiers eyes shut and in agonizing pain. and here I sit in my home, thinking that this comfort is real, and that pain of the seraing mustard gas is far away in time. Its not. the comfort of home is as fragile as the possibilities of peace.
We dont live in 'interesting times'. Not anymore.
I walk out. after an agitated outburst, of course. but a minute later, am plagued by dilemmas on whether I should have reverted to a lecture which would have meant, again, that passivity, which I am trying to combat. I decided, that it was right. and on Monday morning, again at nine, we shall see if this worked or not.
I spent this hour instead, in the library, where I read Martha Nussbaum's The Class Within, where she examines the emergence of the right wing in India. Of course, we know that Martha teaches at the Divinity School at Chicago University. Very very impressive. and the radiates with a certain alarm at the rise of bjp and especially the february 27, 2002 incident in Gujarat which resulted in the genocide. I cannot complete the book, but I get a general idea of the book which is not new of course. The college bell rings, and I have to deliver a lecture on the outbreak of the first world war.
All the textbooks, start off with the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand. It is so typical of modern history to want to emperically identify, a time, a date, a place. and just like the Sabarmati express, the assasination is not event. its a manifestation of an unignorable intent. A deep desire which transcends time and space. but results in blood and war.
I showed them pictures of Kaiser Wilhelm II. and they were taken in by the fancy headgear with the eagle on the top. and their eyes widened when I told them why he holds his left hand in his right. but the moment of serendipity took place on the bus home, when I was reading Siddharth Mukherjee's terrific, terrific account of a terrifying disease. and on page 85, Wilhem II swims to the surface, just when I thought I had left him in room no. 312: In 1908 the Kaiser invites Ehlrich, the man who has discovered 'special affinity' to a private audience in his palace to enquire if he has a cure for cancer. The king is a hypochondriac, but doesnt have the patience to listen to Ehlrich's stories of his chemicals and the possibilities they hold. 'he cut the audience short'. thats the last we hear of the Kaiser. what we do hear is the monstrous use of mustard gas, which forces soldiers eyes shut and in agonizing pain. and here I sit in my home, thinking that this comfort is real, and that pain of the seraing mustard gas is far away in time. Its not. the comfort of home is as fragile as the possibilities of peace.
We dont live in 'interesting times'. Not anymore.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Not Enough of Onuf
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Decoding Constructivism – Part I
I turn to Nicholas Onuf’s deceptively simple titled ‘Constructivism’ from his World of Our Making: Rules and Rule in Social Theory and Constructivism (1989) (Columbia: University of South Caroline Press).
Onuf summarized:
Onuf’s objective, clearly, is to pave the way for the inclusion of social theory philosophy into the realm of the philosophically desert (and deserted) field of International Relations (IR).
How does he do this?
By the invocation of the word ‘deed’. Indeed, Onuf and most constructivists work hinges on the human ability to imagine and frame new ‘worlds’, which requires thought and action. But not any action, a specific kind of action: the ‘deed’.
Deeds are not simply actions, they are, as the dictionary informs, an action, which is performed intentionally or consciously. Or as Onuf describes it, a ‘deed’ is intelligible only as jointly a social construction and natural event, produced by the mind, yet phenomenal in its own right.
The point is that constructivism begins with ‘deed’ because it collectively conjoins several constructivist occupations at once: social construction (language) and intended action (deed), which enables the imagination of another world. Deed sits comfortably between the ‘word’ and the ‘world’ without privileging one over the other. (On a private note, why shouldn’t one privilege one over the other? Possibly because Onuf is decidedly anti-binaries and explains why he almost reluctantly ‘associates’ with Giddens structuration theory. More on that towards the end).
The word and the world are therefore equal, and neither is privileged over the other. And it is for this reason that constructivism cannot reconcile with deconstruction. Deconstruction, ‘wages a war’ on words and as a consequence, is logocentric. Logocentricism, in opposition to Eros, stakes a claim on the ‘rational’ and is the rational principle which governs and develops the world. A constructivist is distanced from this cognitive activity which is based on reason and favours the phenomenal as much as the logos.
So far, what we have is this:
Language is based on certain cognitive abilities humans and on reason. Humans perceive the world through language, and therefore, ‘through the medium of language, the mind subordinates the world’.
Onuf is uncomfortable with these clear and clean lines, and therefore, brings in Wittgenstein.
Why Ludwig?
According to Onuf, W is one of those rare philosophers, who simultaneously straddle social theory and philosophy. Onuf also attributes W’s prestige to the latter’s ‘unsystematic, slender and gnomic’ texts, but we can ignore this.
W is necessary to constructivism. This is because, that even though W for the first bit of his career was very ‘logocentric’, (which simply means that language provides a distance between us and the world; language with its rules, rationalizes the world that we see). The word comes first. Later, Wittgenstein ran a ‘guerilla campaign’ (Onuf’s words!) against this and subsequently argued that its not the word which constitutes the world as much as the deed.
W argued essentially, that ‘to speak a language is an activity’. The shift to activity meant the acknowledgement that all activities are essentially games, and games always have rules. Activity-games-rules: W is a social theorist, because social theory revolves around the thesis that humanity gives rise to customs and institutions. Language is one such rule based activity and using its rules and speaking a language amounts to ‘language games’.
This brings us to the common denominator of constructivist studies: rules. W describes language as a rule based activity, is ‘rule governed’; is a game and is therefore co-opted as a constructivist. This does not mean, however, that everything human is rule governed. (This is the argument put forward by Peter Winch (The Idea of a Social Science and Its Relation to Philosophy), which Onuf is quick to dismiss, on the ground that if everything was rule based, rules would tantamount to causes, which they are not. According to Onuf, this would make humans automatons, which of course, we are not).
Thats it. The rest in Part II.
Coffee. Now!
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