Gyan Prakash
The New York Review of Books
 |
| B.R. Ambedkar, Delhi, Índia, maio de 1946; fotografia de Margaret Bourke-White |
A Part Apart: The Life and Thought of B.R. Ambedkar
por Ashok Gopal
Nova Déli: Navayana, 863 pp., US$ 50,00
B.R. Ambedkar: The Man Who Gave Hope to India’s Dispossessed
por Shashi Tharoor
Manchester: Manchester University Press, 226 pp., £ 16,99
The Evolution of Pragmatismo na Índia: Ambedkar, Dewey e a Retórica da Reconstrução
por Scott R. Stroud
University of Chicago Press, 302 pp., US$ 99,00; US$ 29,00 (papel)
Em 17 de janeiro de 2016, Rohith Vemula tirou a própria vida. Um estudante de doutorado de 26 anos na Universidade de Hyderabad, ele era um dalit (a casta anteriormente chamada de "intocáveis") e membro da Associação de Estudantes de Ambedkar, que combate a discriminação de castas. A universidade suspendeu seu estipêndio após uma reclamação do líder da ala estudantil do Partido Bharatiya Janata (BJP) da Índia de que Rohith o havia agredido fisicamente. A suspensão o deixou desanimado e incapaz de sobreviver, levando à sua morte. Rohith deixou uma nota de suicídio pungente na qual escreveu sobre suas esperanças frustradas de se tornar um escritor científico como Carl Sagan. Mas ele também chamou seu nascimento de um acidente fatal, um lembrete de que o sistema de castas havia determinado seu status como dalit para o resto da vida.
A palavra “casta” (jati em hindi) é derivada de casta, usada pelos portugueses séculos atrás para descrever as divisões na sociedade hindu de acordo com varna (literalmente traduzida como “cor”, mas significando “qualidade” ou “valor”). Textos sânscritos antigos prescreviam uma ordem social de quatro varna: brâmanes (sacerdotes) no topo, seguidos por kshatriyas (guerreiros), vaishyas (mercadores e artesãos) e sudras (classes agrícolas) em ordem decrescente de pureza ritual. A sociedade hindu na verdade consiste em milhares de castas, cada uma com seu lugar nessa hierarquia. Há também um quinto grupo, que é visto como tão impuro a ponto de estar fora da ordem varna. Essas são as castas “intocáveis” — dalits, como os chamamos agora. Eles realizam trabalhos, como limpeza manual e descarte de animais mortos, considerados tão impuros que a simples visão deles é considerada poluente.
Este sistema de ordenação é hereditário. Os hindus nascem em uma casta e permanecem nela até a morte. Algumas castas pertencentes à ordem varna historicamente alcançaram mobilidade e se moveram para uma varna mais alta adotando práticas de “sanscritização”, como o vegetarianismo. Mas mesmo essa mobilidade limitada é fechada para castas “intocáveis”, que permanecem estigmatizadas por geração após geração e encontram as portas da mobilidade econômica e social bem fechadas.
A nota de suicídio de Rohith gerou debates por toda a Índia. Como tal desigualdade social ainda era praticada na maior democracia do mundo setenta anos após a independência do domínio britânico? A atenção se voltou para B.R. Ambedkar, não apenas porque Rohith pertencia a uma organização que levava seu nome, mas também porque Ambedkar, que morreu em 1956, tem sido cada vez mais reconhecido por seus escritos sobre casta como um instrumento arraigado de dominação social, econômica e religiosa na Índia. Como ele disse em 1948, "A democracia na Índia é apenas uma cobertura em solo indiano, que é essencialmente antidemocrático".
Ambedkar nasceu em 1891 na cidade colonial britânica de Mhow, agora em Madhya Pradesh, na Índia central. Ele foi o décimo quarto e último filho de uma família pertencente à casta Dalit Mahar. Os Mahars não tinham permissão para tirar água de poços públicos; os hindus de casta superior consideravam até mesmo sua sombra poluente. O exército colonial britânico no qual seu pai serviu reconheceu a patente militar, mas não a prática da intocabilidade. Isso talvez explique por que Ambedkar não tinha uma visão totalmente negativa do governo britânico. Para ele, o autogoverno não era intrinsecamente melhor do que o governo estrangeiro; o que importava mais do que a liberdade da dominação colonial era a liberdade da dominação da casta superior.
O exército colonial ofereceu uma educação moderna aos soldados, até mesmo treinando-os e recrutando-os como professores. Ambedkar lembrou que seu pai desenvolveu um zelo pela educação, garantindo que todos os seus filhos aprendessem a ler e escrever. Em 1904, a família mudou-se para um cortiço de dois cômodos em um bairro de classe trabalhadora de Mumbai, onde Ambedkar continuou sua educação. Ele se formou na Universidade de Bombaim em 1912 e partiu no ano seguinte para a Universidade de Columbia, apoiado por uma bolsa de estudos do governante do estado principesco de Baroda.
Na Columbia, ele estudou economia, sociologia, história, filosofia e antropologia. Em 1915, ele escreveu uma tese para seu mestrado em economia. Enquanto ainda trabalhava em sua dissertação de doutorado na Columbia, ele se matriculou na London School of Economics em 1916 para outro mestrado em preparação para um segundo doutorado. Ele também se matriculou na Gray's Inn para se tornar um advogado. Ele partiu para Mumbai um ano depois, quando sua bolsa acabou, retornando a Londres em 1920 para obter um mestrado (em economia) em 1921. Ele foi chamado para a Ordem dos Advogados em 1922. Um ano depois, ele apresentou sua dissertação e recebeu um doutorado da LSE. Em 1927, ele obteve seu segundo doutorado em economia pela Columbia.
A palavra “casta” (jati em hindi) é derivada de casta, usada pelos portugueses séculos atrás para descrever as divisões na sociedade hindu de acordo com varna (literalmente traduzida como “cor”, mas significando “qualidade” ou “valor”). Textos sânscritos antigos prescreviam uma ordem social de quatro varna: brâmanes (sacerdotes) no topo, seguidos por kshatriyas (guerreiros), vaishyas (mercadores e artesãos) e sudras (classes agrícolas) em ordem decrescente de pureza ritual. A sociedade hindu na verdade consiste em milhares de castas, cada uma com seu lugar nessa hierarquia. Há também um quinto grupo, que é visto como tão impuro a ponto de estar fora da ordem varna. Essas são as castas “intocáveis” — dalits, como os chamamos agora. Eles realizam trabalhos, como limpeza manual e descarte de animais mortos, considerados tão impuros que a simples visão deles é considerada poluente.
Este sistema de ordenação é hereditário. Os hindus nascem em uma casta e permanecem nela até a morte. Algumas castas pertencentes à ordem varna historicamente alcançaram mobilidade e se moveram para uma varna mais alta adotando práticas de “sanscritização”, como o vegetarianismo. Mas mesmo essa mobilidade limitada é fechada para castas “intocáveis”, que permanecem estigmatizadas por geração após geração e encontram as portas da mobilidade econômica e social bem fechadas.
A nota de suicídio de Rohith gerou debates por toda a Índia. Como tal desigualdade social ainda era praticada na maior democracia do mundo setenta anos após a independência do domínio britânico? A atenção se voltou para B.R. Ambedkar, não apenas porque Rohith pertencia a uma organização que levava seu nome, mas também porque Ambedkar, que morreu em 1956, tem sido cada vez mais reconhecido por seus escritos sobre casta como um instrumento arraigado de dominação social, econômica e religiosa na Índia. Como ele disse em 1948, "A democracia na Índia é apenas uma cobertura em solo indiano, que é essencialmente antidemocrático".
Agora popularmente chamado pelo honorífico Babasaheb, Ambedkar é conhecido há muito tempo como um líder político dos Dalits. Ele popularizou o uso de "Dalit" — que significa quebrado ou disperso, usado pela primeira vez no século XIX por um reformador anticasta — como um termo de dignidade para "intocáveis". Ele é elogiado como o principal redator da constituição indiana, que aboliu legalmente a intocabilidade. Mas poucos o reconheceram como um grande pensador sobre a relação entre democracia social e política. Isso mudou com o movimento anticastas dos anos 1990 e a introdução de vagas reservadas para "castas atrasadas" — as castas intermediárias pertencentes à Sudra varna — em empregos públicos e universidades. Ativistas políticos e acadêmicos recorreram ao trabalho de Ambedkar para explicar a discriminação cotidiana contra as castas inferiores, como sua relegação a empregos braçais, humilhação em locais de trabalho e moradia, negação de entrada em templos, poços separados em vilas e segregação de bairros de castas altas e intermediárias. Sua redescoberta como filósofo político levou à publicação em 2014 de uma nova edição de seu livro Annihilation of Caste (1936), com uma introdução de Arundhati Roy. Ele se debruçou sobre seu conflito com Mahatma Gandhi, que se opôs ao seu argumento de que a casta era a base social do hinduísmo.
Casta continua sendo um assunto controverso, e os estudiosos discordam sobre a natureza e a história da instituição. Os colonialistas britânicos interpretaram isso como evidência da base da sociedade indiana na religião e sua falta de uma esfera política adequada, que foi preenchida pelo estado colonial. Marx adotou essa visão, escrevendo que o subcontinente não conhecia nenhuma história real até sua conquista pela Grã-Bretanha, apenas uma sucessão de guerras e imperadores governando uma sociedade imutável e sem resistência. A escrita e a prática colonial se basearam em textos bramânicos para entender e governar a Índia como uma sociedade organizada por sua religião hindu predominante.
O Homo Hierarchicus (1966) do antropólogo francês Louis Dumont deu a esse entendimento o imprimatur da erudição ao argumentar que o Homo hierarchicus, em vez do Homo aequalis ocidental, sustentava a sociedade indiana. Seguindo Dumont, os antropólogos estudaram castas e sua ordenação hierárquica de acordo com os princípios bramânicos de pureza e poluição. Foi somente em 2001 que Nicholas Dirks argumentou persuasivamente que os britânicos foram cruciais na institucionalização da casta como a essência da sociedade indiana — embora não a tenham inventado, eles moldaram a casta como a conhecemos hoje. No lugar de uma série de ordens sociais pré-coloniais baseadas em uma variedade de fatores, incluindo poder político e econômico, a sociedade em toda a Índia passou a ser definida por castas, com os brâmanes no topo e os dalits na base.
Como um sistema de desigualdade, a casta tem recebido críticas e protestos por séculos. Hoje, ativistas que exigem o desmantelamento dos privilégios de casta no emprego, educação, moradia, mobilidade econômica e respeito social se opõem ao governo nacionalista hindu do BJP liderado por Narendra Modi, que defende ignorar a diferença de casta no interesse da unidade hindu. O BJP é o braço político do Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), uma organização cultural hindu paramilitar que, desde sua fundação em 1925, faz campanha por uma unidade hindu organicista, expressando admiração pelo modelo de unidade nacional promovido pelo fascismo e pelo nazismo. O RSS pede a reforma dos aspectos mais extremos da casta, como a prática da intocabilidade, mas, como a maioria dos reformadores, incluindo Gandhi, não desafia a ordem dos quatro varna, considerando-a uma organização divina da sociedade de acordo com os ideais hindus. Para o RSS, focar nas diferenças no acesso de casta à riqueza e ao status social fratura a unidade dos hindus; em vez disso, ele convoca as castas a se unirem por um estado-nação que garanta a supremacia hindu. Consequentemente, o governo Modi tem perseguido sistematicamente ativistas minoritários e dalits como elementos antinacionais. Multidões nacionalistas hindus também agrediram e lincharam muçulmanos, cristãos e dalits.
Casta continua sendo um assunto controverso, e os estudiosos discordam sobre a natureza e a história da instituição. Os colonialistas britânicos interpretaram isso como evidência da base da sociedade indiana na religião e sua falta de uma esfera política adequada, que foi preenchida pelo estado colonial. Marx adotou essa visão, escrevendo que o subcontinente não conhecia nenhuma história real até sua conquista pela Grã-Bretanha, apenas uma sucessão de guerras e imperadores governando uma sociedade imutável e sem resistência. A escrita e a prática colonial se basearam em textos bramânicos para entender e governar a Índia como uma sociedade organizada por sua religião hindu predominante.
O Homo Hierarchicus (1966) do antropólogo francês Louis Dumont deu a esse entendimento o imprimatur da erudição ao argumentar que o Homo hierarchicus, em vez do Homo aequalis ocidental, sustentava a sociedade indiana. Seguindo Dumont, os antropólogos estudaram castas e sua ordenação hierárquica de acordo com os princípios bramânicos de pureza e poluição. Foi somente em 2001 que Nicholas Dirks argumentou persuasivamente que os britânicos foram cruciais na institucionalização da casta como a essência da sociedade indiana — embora não a tenham inventado, eles moldaram a casta como a conhecemos hoje. No lugar de uma série de ordens sociais pré-coloniais baseadas em uma variedade de fatores, incluindo poder político e econômico, a sociedade em toda a Índia passou a ser definida por castas, com os brâmanes no topo e os dalits na base.
Como um sistema de desigualdade, a casta tem recebido críticas e protestos por séculos. Hoje, ativistas que exigem o desmantelamento dos privilégios de casta no emprego, educação, moradia, mobilidade econômica e respeito social se opõem ao governo nacionalista hindu do BJP liderado por Narendra Modi, que defende ignorar a diferença de casta no interesse da unidade hindu. O BJP é o braço político do Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), uma organização cultural hindu paramilitar que, desde sua fundação em 1925, faz campanha por uma unidade hindu organicista, expressando admiração pelo modelo de unidade nacional promovido pelo fascismo e pelo nazismo. O RSS pede a reforma dos aspectos mais extremos da casta, como a prática da intocabilidade, mas, como a maioria dos reformadores, incluindo Gandhi, não desafia a ordem dos quatro varna, considerando-a uma organização divina da sociedade de acordo com os ideais hindus. Para o RSS, focar nas diferenças no acesso de casta à riqueza e ao status social fratura a unidade dos hindus; em vez disso, ele convoca as castas a se unirem por um estado-nação que garanta a supremacia hindu. Consequentemente, o governo Modi tem perseguido sistematicamente ativistas minoritários e dalits como elementos antinacionais. Multidões nacionalistas hindus também agrediram e lincharam muçulmanos, cristãos e dalits.
Contra esse pano de fundo de ameaças à democracia, Ambedkar adquire um novo significado. A biografia lúcida do político indiano Shashi Tharoor é dirigida ao público em geral. Mas para apreciar a profundidade, complexidade, nuances e mudanças no pensamento e na política do líder dalit, deve-se ler A Part Apart, do jornalista Ashok Gopal. Ele se debruçou sobre os escritos e discursos de Ambedkar em inglês e marati, e o resultado é um relato impressionante, abrangente e ponderado de Ambedkar e sua época. O título é tirado de um comentário que Ambedkar fez em 1939: "Eu não sou parte do todo, eu sou uma parte à parte."
O que emerge em A Part Apart é um retrato de um intelectual minoritário comprometido em construir uma sociedade baseada nos princípios de liberdade, igualdade e fraternidade. Isso implicou em resolver a lacuna entre os princípios políticos estabelecidos na constituição indiana elaborada e introduzida em 1950 sob sua liderança e a realidade da desigualdade social. Em um discurso frequentemente citado perante a Assembleia Constituinte em 25 de novembro de 1949, ele disse:
No dia 26 de janeiro de 1950, entraremos em uma vida de contradições. Na política, teremos igualdade e na vida social e econômica, teremos desigualdade. Na política, reconheceremos o princípio de um homem, um voto e um voto, um valor. Em nossa vida social e econômica, continuaremos, em razão de nossa estrutura social e econômica, a negar o princípio de um homem, um valor. Por quanto tempo continuaremos a viver essa vida de contradições?
O relato de Gopal mapeia meticulosamente as tentativas de Ambedkar de lidar com essa "vida de contradições". Primeiro, ele confrontou o nacionalismo anticolonial e entrou em choque com Gandhi sobre se a desigualdade de castas estava intrinsecamente conectada ao hinduísmo. Segundo, ele se envolveu com a democracia constitucional e desenvolveu sua visão da política como um instrumento de mudança social. Terceiro, sua preocupação em estabelecer a igualdade de todos os seres humanos é observável em sua abordagem à religião e sua eventual virada para o budismo.
Ambedkar nasceu em 1891 na cidade colonial britânica de Mhow, agora em Madhya Pradesh, na Índia central. Ele foi o décimo quarto e último filho de uma família pertencente à casta Dalit Mahar. Os Mahars não tinham permissão para tirar água de poços públicos; os hindus de casta superior consideravam até mesmo sua sombra poluente. O exército colonial britânico no qual seu pai serviu reconheceu a patente militar, mas não a prática da intocabilidade. Isso talvez explique por que Ambedkar não tinha uma visão totalmente negativa do governo britânico. Para ele, o autogoverno não era intrinsecamente melhor do que o governo estrangeiro; o que importava mais do que a liberdade da dominação colonial era a liberdade da dominação da casta superior.
O exército colonial ofereceu uma educação moderna aos soldados, até mesmo treinando-os e recrutando-os como professores. Ambedkar lembrou que seu pai desenvolveu um zelo pela educação, garantindo que todos os seus filhos aprendessem a ler e escrever. Em 1904, a família mudou-se para um cortiço de dois cômodos em um bairro de classe trabalhadora de Mumbai, onde Ambedkar continuou sua educação. Ele se formou na Universidade de Bombaim em 1912 e partiu no ano seguinte para a Universidade de Columbia, apoiado por uma bolsa de estudos do governante do estado principesco de Baroda.
Na Columbia, ele estudou economia, sociologia, história, filosofia e antropologia. Em 1915, ele escreveu uma tese para seu mestrado em economia. Enquanto ainda trabalhava em sua dissertação de doutorado na Columbia, ele se matriculou na London School of Economics em 1916 para outro mestrado em preparação para um segundo doutorado. Ele também se matriculou na Gray's Inn para se tornar um advogado. Ele partiu para Mumbai um ano depois, quando sua bolsa acabou, retornando a Londres em 1920 para obter um mestrado (em economia) em 1921. Ele foi chamado para a Ordem dos Advogados em 1922. Um ano depois, ele apresentou sua dissertação e recebeu um doutorado da LSE. Em 1927, ele obteve seu segundo doutorado em economia pela Columbia.
By any standard, Ambedkar’s education was extraordinary, and even more so because of his stringent financial circumstances. In the years between his return to India and his Columbia doctorate, he started journals that launched his career as a public figure while teaching at a Mumbai college to support his family. In Gopal’s book he emerges as an intellectual intent on transforming Indian public discourse. This commitment came out of experiencing caste bigotry while growing up, such as being told to sit at the back of classrooms and being denied access to the water faucet unless a school employee opened it for him. Even his considerable academic achievements did not exempt him later from several humiliations, including being denied accommodations. In this respect, his time in the US and the UK provided a welcome relief.
New York also introduced Ambedkar to pragmatism, the philosophy of his teacher at Columbia, John Dewey. Several scholars have noted Dewey’s influence on his ideas on democracy and equality,
as did Ambedkar himself. (He was hoping to meet with his former teacher in 1952 when Columbia invited him to New York to accept an honorary degree, but Dewey died two days before his arrival.) The philosopher Scott R. Stroud’s The Evolution of Pragmatism in India is a magnificent study of Ambedkar’s complex engagement with Dewey’s ideas, which he reworked to address India’s specific political and social conditions. Stroud calls this creative use of Dewey’s philosophy Navayana pragmatism, named after Ambedkar’s Navayana, or “new vehicle” Buddhism.
Pragmatism’s impact on Ambedkar is evident in his 1919 memorandum to the Southborough Committee, appointed by the British government to consider the implementation of constitutional reforms. Ambedkar rejected the claim that Indians formed a community, which was the basis of the nationalist demand for political reforms. He cited a passage from Dewey’s Democracy and Education that the existence of a community required its members to be like-minded, with aims, aspirations, and beliefs in common. But while Dewey suggested that like-mindedness was fostered by communication, Ambedkar argued that in India it came from belonging to a single social group. And India had a multitude of these groups—castes—isolated from one another. With no communication or intermingling, Hindus formed a community only in relation to non-Hindus. Among themselves, caste-mindedness was more important than like-mindedness. Divided between “touchables” and “untouchables,” they could become one community only if they were thrown together into “associated living,” a concept from Dewey.
Above all, Ambedkar’s memorandum demanded an end to caste inequality. In 1924 he established an organization to represent and advocate for all Dalit castes with the slogan “Educate, Agitate and Organise,” which he drew from British socialists. This advocacy took on a sharper tone by 1927, when his organization arranged two conferences that catalyzed what came to be known as the Ambedkari chalval (Ambedkarite movement). The actions it took included Ambedkar and other Dalits drinking water from a public tank and symbolically burning the Manusmriti (the Hindu scripture authorizing caste hierarchy). The reaction of upper-caste Hindus was ferocious. Dalits were assaulted, and rituals to “purify” the “defiled” spaces were performed.
Ambedkar compared the second of these conferences to the French National Assembly in 1789 and their symbolic actions to the fall of the Bastille. For him the deliberate violation of caste taboos was an assertion of civil rights. He still spoke of Dalits as belonging to Hindu society but warned that if savarnas (castes belonging to the four varnas) opposed change, Dalits would become non-Hindus. What angered him the most was the purification ceremonies, which he saw as an attack on the humanity and sanctity of the Dalit physical body.
Ambedkar’s demand for social justice put him at odds with the nationalist movement and eventually with Gandhi. In a 1920 editorial he acknowledged that Indians were denied self-development under the British Raj, but that the same could be said of Dalits under the “Brahmin raj.” He wrote that they had every right to ask, “What have you done to throw open the path of self-development for six crore [60 million] Untouchables in the country?” He described the Gandhi-led Indian National Congress as “political radicals and social Tories” whose “delicate gentility will neither bear the Englishman as superior nor will it brook the Untouchables as equal.”
Clearly the disagreements were deep. Gandhi, like other nationalists, believed that freedom from British rule was the primary goal and that Hindu society could address untouchability after independence had been achieved. Ambedkar, drawing on Dewey’s ideas on associated life, argued that India was not yet a nation and could not become one without addressing caste injustice. The purpose of politics, in his view, was to enact social change that Hindu society was too caste-ridden to accomplish on its own.
The conflict between the two men came to a head at the Round Table Conferences (RTC) in London, organized by the British to discuss political devolution. Several Congress Party leaders had denounced Ambedkar as a government puppet when he was appointed in 1927 as a nonelected representative of Dalits (whom the British called Depressed Classes) in the Bombay Legislative Council. Their criticism escalated at the second RTC when Ambedkar demanded that Dalits be granted separate constituencies to elect their own representatives to provincial legislatures. The Congress saw this as falling for the classic colonial ploy of divide and rule. It was willing to concede separate electorates for Muslims but not for Dalits. Gandhi was especially opposed to Ambedkar’s stand because he saw the Dalits, unlike Muslims, as part of Hindu society. He went on a fast to oppose the 1932 Communal Award, an electoral scheme announced by the British government that accepted separate representation for both Muslims and Dalits.
The standoff was resolved only after Ambedkar, Gandhi, and upper-caste leaders signed the Poona Pact that September. Ambedkar dropped his demand for separate electorates and accepted the principle of reserved seats for Dalits elected by joint electorates. From later writings by Ambedkar, in particular Annihilation of Caste and What Congress and Gandhi Have Done to the Untouchables (1945), the Poona Pact appears to have been a breaking point between the two men, a view that historians have accepted. But Gopal shows that the picture was more complicated in 1932.
Gandhi saw himself as a champion of Dalits, whom he called Harijans (“children of God”). He was loath to concede that they were outside Hinduism, like Muslims, and required separate representation. He wanted savarnas to abandon the practice of untouchability by a change of heart. Though Ambedkar appreciated Gandhi’s efforts, he wanted separate electorates because joint electorates for reserved seats meant that only those candidates acceptable to savarnas would win. But he signed the Poona Pact and accepted the outcome, even if it amounted to a concession.
This, Gopal argues, indicates that the Poona Pact was not a moment of irremediable split. With meticulous research, he shows that Ambedkar was satisfied with it. Though his attitude changed in his later writings, Gopal conclusively demonstrates that he initially regarded the pact’s achievements as substantial. He also believed that Gandhi’s commitment to eliminating untouchability was genuine, even as he disagreed with his methods. He wrote, “Gandhiji should be now called ‘our man,’ because he is now speaking our language and our thoughts.” This is at odds with Tharoor’s contention that ungenerosity toward Gandhi was one of Ambedkar’s flaws. If anything, it was Ambedkar who showed generosity and political flexibility.
But this amity barely lasted a year. There was a fundamental difference in their respective understandings of caste and its relationship to Hinduism. Gandhi regarded untouchability as an ugly corruption of a basically benign varna system. He called himself a “Harijan by choice” and turned his attention to uplifting Dalits rather than to the elimination of untouchability or any fundamental change in Hinduism. Ambedkar intensely disliked the “Harijan” moniker, believing it concealed the real cause of oppression, which was the Hindu varna system. At a conference in 1935 Ambedkar declared that though he was born a Hindu, he would not die as one. A year later he published Annihilation of Caste, the text of an undelivered speech, which argued that caste, along with social hierarchy and untouchability, was essential to Hinduism as a religion.
It was a stinging critique, one that Gandhi did not accept. Tharoor, who also wrote Why I Am a Hindu (2018), regards it as too sweeping, ignoring the religion’s plural traditions and closing the possibility of any rapprochement. But Tharoor fails to appreciate Ambedkar’s aim, which was to force Hindus to confront what their religion had wrought. Ambedkar wrote that Hindus treated Dalits horribly not because of some malice in their hearts but because they were religious and were simply following their scriptures. The problem was deep-rooted. At least slaves could hope for emancipation. But there was no hope for Dalits: it was the fatal accident of their birth.
If this religiously sanctioned system of inequality was resistant to emancipatory change, what could be done? This question opens the second theme in Ambedkar’s preoccupation with a “life of contradictions”: constitutional democracy and the use of politics to achieve social change. From the start of his public activities, he had used constitutional methods, submitting memoranda to various British committees to recommend reforms and participating in the RTC. Mindful of his standing as a Dalit leader, the Congress Party chose Ambedkar as the chair of the committee to draft the constitution of independent India, which affirmed equality irrespective of caste, religion, language, or birthplace.
Untouchability was abolished, and seats in the Parliament were reserved for Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (the official name for historically disadvantaged groups since 1935). Inspired by the Irish constitution, the Indian constitution also included a section called Directive Principles of State Policy, which outlined broad measures of social welfare. But these did not establish legally enforceable rights; the expectation was that constitutional guidance would result in policies that would realize the goals of equality and fraternity.
Ambedkar observed in 1949 that adopting constitutional democracy meant that “we must abandon the bloody methods of revolution.” Liberty, equality, and fraternity were to be instituted through constitutional means. Although he had used these tactics himself in the past, he now showed little patience for the “stampede” of civil disobedience, which he called a “grammar of anarchy.” Gopal does not provide any explanation for this apparent contradiction. We are left to conclude that Ambedkar was so convinced of Hindu society’s resistance to equality that he could place his faith only in the state to transform power relations.
Tharoor criticizes him for this “statism,” but it was born of Ambedkar’s experience of upper-caste resistance to fundamental change. Accordingly, he drafted a constitution that equipped the state with vast powers to carry out an expansive social project. The constitution granted fundamental rights, but it also included provisions under which the state could circumscribe them, unencumbered by substantive judicial scrutiny.
Ambedkar and other framers of the constitution had hoped that “constitutional morality” would guide state leaders in the future to use these provisions sparingly. But Indira Gandhi used them in 1975 to impose a national Emergency and suspend basic rights, and today the Modi government systematically deploys them to pursue critics and activists it calls “anti-national.”
Ambedkar was invited by Jawaharlal Nehru in 1950 to join his government as law minister, and he accepted. As minister, he introduced the Hindu Code Bill, which included women’s marriage and inheritance rights. The RSS and the Congress Party savarnas opposed it bitterly, especially as a Dalit was proposing a law involving Hindu women. Nehru dithered, the bill stalled, and Ambedkar resigned. He dabbled in politics for a time, though not very successfully. His last years were increasingly devoted to establishing colleges for Dalits, writing, and promoting Buddhism.
His interest in Buddhism developed out of his conviction that religion provided the “social conscience” without which any rights provided by law remained dead letters. Hinduism could not do this because of its commitment to caste. In his interpretation of Buddhism, called Navayana or Neo-Buddhism, Ambedkar believed he had found a religion for the modern age for three reasons: it upheld reason and experience over the divine word; its moral code recognized liberty, equality, and fraternity; and it refused to ennoble or sanctify poverty as a blessed state. Unlike traditional religions that were concerned with God, the soul, and rituals, Buddhism had no concept of God or the soul, and the Buddha shunned rituals, advocating an inclusive path of righteous and moral living. Ambedkar expressed these ideas in Buddha and His Dhamma, a posthumously published treatise on Buddha’s life and philosophy. On October 15, 1956, he took the oath to accept Buddhism in a public meeting with a mass of his followers. He died two months later on December 6, having fulfilled the pledge made in 1935 that he would not die a Hindu.
Although many Dalits did convert to Buddhism, most did not. In any case Ambedkar never clarified how conversion would address conditions of material deprivation and oppression by savarnas. Most Dalits remain poor. They work as agricultural laborers, perform menial jobs, and are housed in settlements separated from savarnas. The political theorist Gopal Guru, quoting V.S. Naipaul, suggests that Dalits continue to be treated as “walking carrion.” But Ambedkar did help raise Dalits’ consciousness of their rights. Thanks to Ambedkar, the overt practice of untouchability in public life is frowned upon. The constitutional abolition of untouchability and the provision for reserving positions have changed the political landscape. Democracy has helped members of intermediate and lower castes, including Dalits, climb the ladders of power in government. In many states, particularly in the south, this has resulted in more inclusive governance and welfare. But the Dalits’ share of wealth and access to professional careers remain minimal, and the experience of social indignity and humiliation persists.
Ambedkar’s ambition for achieving democracy as a daily practice of equality remains a distant goal, but these books establish the depth and ambition of his ideas and their global relevance. Theorists of democracy and those worried about its crisis around the world could learn from his idea of it as something that goes beyond procedural norms, as a dedication to the free and equal association of all human beings. His frequent invocation of the principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity was not formulaic but purposeful. To realize this ambitious ideal, he wished to mobilize the combined forces of law, politics, the state, and religion as morality. Despite their differences, Ambedkar and Gandhi shared an understanding of the importance of conscience in effecting social change—realizing in practice what is written in law.
But there is little hope of this occurring under Modi, whose Hindu nationalist rhetoric has been amplified in the six-week national elections that end on June 1. Modi’s vitriolic anti-Muslim demagoguery hopes to unite Hindus as a solid voting bloc, but he maintains a deafening silence on Dalit demands for equality. To ensure victory, he imprisons opposition leaders. Political rivals are coerced into joining the BJP following raids on their homes by tax authorities. The BJP’s election coffers are flush with corporate donations. Television networks and newspapers, controlled by friendly owners, regularly sing Modi’s praises and attack the opposition. Critical journalism has been forced to operate precariously on YouTube, in the face of government censorship and the BJP’s army of social media bots.
Modi is leaving nothing to chance. The election results, to be announced on June 4, will determine if his government, in power since 2014, will secure a third term. Opposing the BJP is an alliance headed by the Congress Party, which led India to independence and ruled it for nearly sixty-five years. In its election manifesto it warns the country that the BJP is a danger to democracy and promises that it will undertake a caste census to determine the magnitude of economic and social inequality and introduce ameliorative policies. It thereby hopes to overcome Modi’s appeal to Hindu unity.
India’s democracy and Ambedkar’s vision of social equality are at stake as Indians vote. Meanwhile Rohith Vermula’s mother continues fighting to hold the authorities legally accountable for his death.
The election will have a significant impact on whether she will get a measure of justice for the young man who fought for Dalit rights and wrote poignantly about the “fatal accident” of his birth.
New York also introduced Ambedkar to pragmatism, the philosophy of his teacher at Columbia, John Dewey. Several scholars have noted Dewey’s influence on his ideas on democracy and equality,
as did Ambedkar himself. (He was hoping to meet with his former teacher in 1952 when Columbia invited him to New York to accept an honorary degree, but Dewey died two days before his arrival.) The philosopher Scott R. Stroud’s The Evolution of Pragmatism in India is a magnificent study of Ambedkar’s complex engagement with Dewey’s ideas, which he reworked to address India’s specific political and social conditions. Stroud calls this creative use of Dewey’s philosophy Navayana pragmatism, named after Ambedkar’s Navayana, or “new vehicle” Buddhism.
Pragmatism’s impact on Ambedkar is evident in his 1919 memorandum to the Southborough Committee, appointed by the British government to consider the implementation of constitutional reforms. Ambedkar rejected the claim that Indians formed a community, which was the basis of the nationalist demand for political reforms. He cited a passage from Dewey’s Democracy and Education that the existence of a community required its members to be like-minded, with aims, aspirations, and beliefs in common. But while Dewey suggested that like-mindedness was fostered by communication, Ambedkar argued that in India it came from belonging to a single social group. And India had a multitude of these groups—castes—isolated from one another. With no communication or intermingling, Hindus formed a community only in relation to non-Hindus. Among themselves, caste-mindedness was more important than like-mindedness. Divided between “touchables” and “untouchables,” they could become one community only if they were thrown together into “associated living,” a concept from Dewey.
Above all, Ambedkar’s memorandum demanded an end to caste inequality. In 1924 he established an organization to represent and advocate for all Dalit castes with the slogan “Educate, Agitate and Organise,” which he drew from British socialists. This advocacy took on a sharper tone by 1927, when his organization arranged two conferences that catalyzed what came to be known as the Ambedkari chalval (Ambedkarite movement). The actions it took included Ambedkar and other Dalits drinking water from a public tank and symbolically burning the Manusmriti (the Hindu scripture authorizing caste hierarchy). The reaction of upper-caste Hindus was ferocious. Dalits were assaulted, and rituals to “purify” the “defiled” spaces were performed.
Ambedkar compared the second of these conferences to the French National Assembly in 1789 and their symbolic actions to the fall of the Bastille. For him the deliberate violation of caste taboos was an assertion of civil rights. He still spoke of Dalits as belonging to Hindu society but warned that if savarnas (castes belonging to the four varnas) opposed change, Dalits would become non-Hindus. What angered him the most was the purification ceremonies, which he saw as an attack on the humanity and sanctity of the Dalit physical body.
Ambedkar’s demand for social justice put him at odds with the nationalist movement and eventually with Gandhi. In a 1920 editorial he acknowledged that Indians were denied self-development under the British Raj, but that the same could be said of Dalits under the “Brahmin raj.” He wrote that they had every right to ask, “What have you done to throw open the path of self-development for six crore [60 million] Untouchables in the country?” He described the Gandhi-led Indian National Congress as “political radicals and social Tories” whose “delicate gentility will neither bear the Englishman as superior nor will it brook the Untouchables as equal.”
Clearly the disagreements were deep. Gandhi, like other nationalists, believed that freedom from British rule was the primary goal and that Hindu society could address untouchability after independence had been achieved. Ambedkar, drawing on Dewey’s ideas on associated life, argued that India was not yet a nation and could not become one without addressing caste injustice. The purpose of politics, in his view, was to enact social change that Hindu society was too caste-ridden to accomplish on its own.
The conflict between the two men came to a head at the Round Table Conferences (RTC) in London, organized by the British to discuss political devolution. Several Congress Party leaders had denounced Ambedkar as a government puppet when he was appointed in 1927 as a nonelected representative of Dalits (whom the British called Depressed Classes) in the Bombay Legislative Council. Their criticism escalated at the second RTC when Ambedkar demanded that Dalits be granted separate constituencies to elect their own representatives to provincial legislatures. The Congress saw this as falling for the classic colonial ploy of divide and rule. It was willing to concede separate electorates for Muslims but not for Dalits. Gandhi was especially opposed to Ambedkar’s stand because he saw the Dalits, unlike Muslims, as part of Hindu society. He went on a fast to oppose the 1932 Communal Award, an electoral scheme announced by the British government that accepted separate representation for both Muslims and Dalits.
The standoff was resolved only after Ambedkar, Gandhi, and upper-caste leaders signed the Poona Pact that September. Ambedkar dropped his demand for separate electorates and accepted the principle of reserved seats for Dalits elected by joint electorates. From later writings by Ambedkar, in particular Annihilation of Caste and What Congress and Gandhi Have Done to the Untouchables (1945), the Poona Pact appears to have been a breaking point between the two men, a view that historians have accepted. But Gopal shows that the picture was more complicated in 1932.
Gandhi saw himself as a champion of Dalits, whom he called Harijans (“children of God”). He was loath to concede that they were outside Hinduism, like Muslims, and required separate representation. He wanted savarnas to abandon the practice of untouchability by a change of heart. Though Ambedkar appreciated Gandhi’s efforts, he wanted separate electorates because joint electorates for reserved seats meant that only those candidates acceptable to savarnas would win. But he signed the Poona Pact and accepted the outcome, even if it amounted to a concession.
This, Gopal argues, indicates that the Poona Pact was not a moment of irremediable split. With meticulous research, he shows that Ambedkar was satisfied with it. Though his attitude changed in his later writings, Gopal conclusively demonstrates that he initially regarded the pact’s achievements as substantial. He also believed that Gandhi’s commitment to eliminating untouchability was genuine, even as he disagreed with his methods. He wrote, “Gandhiji should be now called ‘our man,’ because he is now speaking our language and our thoughts.” This is at odds with Tharoor’s contention that ungenerosity toward Gandhi was one of Ambedkar’s flaws. If anything, it was Ambedkar who showed generosity and political flexibility.
But this amity barely lasted a year. There was a fundamental difference in their respective understandings of caste and its relationship to Hinduism. Gandhi regarded untouchability as an ugly corruption of a basically benign varna system. He called himself a “Harijan by choice” and turned his attention to uplifting Dalits rather than to the elimination of untouchability or any fundamental change in Hinduism. Ambedkar intensely disliked the “Harijan” moniker, believing it concealed the real cause of oppression, which was the Hindu varna system. At a conference in 1935 Ambedkar declared that though he was born a Hindu, he would not die as one. A year later he published Annihilation of Caste, the text of an undelivered speech, which argued that caste, along with social hierarchy and untouchability, was essential to Hinduism as a religion.
It was a stinging critique, one that Gandhi did not accept. Tharoor, who also wrote Why I Am a Hindu (2018), regards it as too sweeping, ignoring the religion’s plural traditions and closing the possibility of any rapprochement. But Tharoor fails to appreciate Ambedkar’s aim, which was to force Hindus to confront what their religion had wrought. Ambedkar wrote that Hindus treated Dalits horribly not because of some malice in their hearts but because they were religious and were simply following their scriptures. The problem was deep-rooted. At least slaves could hope for emancipation. But there was no hope for Dalits: it was the fatal accident of their birth.
If this religiously sanctioned system of inequality was resistant to emancipatory change, what could be done? This question opens the second theme in Ambedkar’s preoccupation with a “life of contradictions”: constitutional democracy and the use of politics to achieve social change. From the start of his public activities, he had used constitutional methods, submitting memoranda to various British committees to recommend reforms and participating in the RTC. Mindful of his standing as a Dalit leader, the Congress Party chose Ambedkar as the chair of the committee to draft the constitution of independent India, which affirmed equality irrespective of caste, religion, language, or birthplace.
Untouchability was abolished, and seats in the Parliament were reserved for Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (the official name for historically disadvantaged groups since 1935). Inspired by the Irish constitution, the Indian constitution also included a section called Directive Principles of State Policy, which outlined broad measures of social welfare. But these did not establish legally enforceable rights; the expectation was that constitutional guidance would result in policies that would realize the goals of equality and fraternity.
Ambedkar observed in 1949 that adopting constitutional democracy meant that “we must abandon the bloody methods of revolution.” Liberty, equality, and fraternity were to be instituted through constitutional means. Although he had used these tactics himself in the past, he now showed little patience for the “stampede” of civil disobedience, which he called a “grammar of anarchy.” Gopal does not provide any explanation for this apparent contradiction. We are left to conclude that Ambedkar was so convinced of Hindu society’s resistance to equality that he could place his faith only in the state to transform power relations.
Tharoor criticizes him for this “statism,” but it was born of Ambedkar’s experience of upper-caste resistance to fundamental change. Accordingly, he drafted a constitution that equipped the state with vast powers to carry out an expansive social project. The constitution granted fundamental rights, but it also included provisions under which the state could circumscribe them, unencumbered by substantive judicial scrutiny.
Ambedkar and other framers of the constitution had hoped that “constitutional morality” would guide state leaders in the future to use these provisions sparingly. But Indira Gandhi used them in 1975 to impose a national Emergency and suspend basic rights, and today the Modi government systematically deploys them to pursue critics and activists it calls “anti-national.”
Ambedkar was invited by Jawaharlal Nehru in 1950 to join his government as law minister, and he accepted. As minister, he introduced the Hindu Code Bill, which included women’s marriage and inheritance rights. The RSS and the Congress Party savarnas opposed it bitterly, especially as a Dalit was proposing a law involving Hindu women. Nehru dithered, the bill stalled, and Ambedkar resigned. He dabbled in politics for a time, though not very successfully. His last years were increasingly devoted to establishing colleges for Dalits, writing, and promoting Buddhism.
His interest in Buddhism developed out of his conviction that religion provided the “social conscience” without which any rights provided by law remained dead letters. Hinduism could not do this because of its commitment to caste. In his interpretation of Buddhism, called Navayana or Neo-Buddhism, Ambedkar believed he had found a religion for the modern age for three reasons: it upheld reason and experience over the divine word; its moral code recognized liberty, equality, and fraternity; and it refused to ennoble or sanctify poverty as a blessed state. Unlike traditional religions that were concerned with God, the soul, and rituals, Buddhism had no concept of God or the soul, and the Buddha shunned rituals, advocating an inclusive path of righteous and moral living. Ambedkar expressed these ideas in Buddha and His Dhamma, a posthumously published treatise on Buddha’s life and philosophy. On October 15, 1956, he took the oath to accept Buddhism in a public meeting with a mass of his followers. He died two months later on December 6, having fulfilled the pledge made in 1935 that he would not die a Hindu.
Although many Dalits did convert to Buddhism, most did not. In any case Ambedkar never clarified how conversion would address conditions of material deprivation and oppression by savarnas. Most Dalits remain poor. They work as agricultural laborers, perform menial jobs, and are housed in settlements separated from savarnas. The political theorist Gopal Guru, quoting V.S. Naipaul, suggests that Dalits continue to be treated as “walking carrion.” But Ambedkar did help raise Dalits’ consciousness of their rights. Thanks to Ambedkar, the overt practice of untouchability in public life is frowned upon. The constitutional abolition of untouchability and the provision for reserving positions have changed the political landscape. Democracy has helped members of intermediate and lower castes, including Dalits, climb the ladders of power in government. In many states, particularly in the south, this has resulted in more inclusive governance and welfare. But the Dalits’ share of wealth and access to professional careers remain minimal, and the experience of social indignity and humiliation persists.
Ambedkar’s ambition for achieving democracy as a daily practice of equality remains a distant goal, but these books establish the depth and ambition of his ideas and their global relevance. Theorists of democracy and those worried about its crisis around the world could learn from his idea of it as something that goes beyond procedural norms, as a dedication to the free and equal association of all human beings. His frequent invocation of the principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity was not formulaic but purposeful. To realize this ambitious ideal, he wished to mobilize the combined forces of law, politics, the state, and religion as morality. Despite their differences, Ambedkar and Gandhi shared an understanding of the importance of conscience in effecting social change—realizing in practice what is written in law.
But there is little hope of this occurring under Modi, whose Hindu nationalist rhetoric has been amplified in the six-week national elections that end on June 1. Modi’s vitriolic anti-Muslim demagoguery hopes to unite Hindus as a solid voting bloc, but he maintains a deafening silence on Dalit demands for equality. To ensure victory, he imprisons opposition leaders. Political rivals are coerced into joining the BJP following raids on their homes by tax authorities. The BJP’s election coffers are flush with corporate donations. Television networks and newspapers, controlled by friendly owners, regularly sing Modi’s praises and attack the opposition. Critical journalism has been forced to operate precariously on YouTube, in the face of government censorship and the BJP’s army of social media bots.
Modi is leaving nothing to chance. The election results, to be announced on June 4, will determine if his government, in power since 2014, will secure a third term. Opposing the BJP is an alliance headed by the Congress Party, which led India to independence and ruled it for nearly sixty-five years. In its election manifesto it warns the country that the BJP is a danger to democracy and promises that it will undertake a caste census to determine the magnitude of economic and social inequality and introduce ameliorative policies. It thereby hopes to overcome Modi’s appeal to Hindu unity.
India’s democracy and Ambedkar’s vision of social equality are at stake as Indians vote. Meanwhile Rohith Vermula’s mother continues fighting to hold the authorities legally accountable for his death.
The election will have a significant impact on whether she will get a measure of justice for the young man who fought for Dalit rights and wrote poignantly about the “fatal accident” of his birth.
Gyan Prakash é o Professor de História Dayton-Stockton em Princeton, onde leciona história do sul da Ásia moderno, colonialismo e pensamento pós-colonial. Seu último livro é Emergency Chronicles: Indira Gandhi and Democracy's Turning Point.
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário