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The Greatest Internal Security Threat

By Shweta Radhakrishnan

29 October, 2012
Countercurrents.org

As I left the theatre after watching Prakash Jha's Chakravyuh, something made me feel deeply uncomfortable. It wasn't the movie. The movie in itself was interesting. I think it presented as balanced a view as it possibly could within the framework of mainstream Bollywood cinema. The film's message was fairly clear – the government runs only for the rich. It's a government that does not care about the police constable or the CRPF jawan who is stationed in the 'troubled spots'. It doesn't care for the adivasis. Rights are not fundamentally guaranteed. They are bought and sold in the world's largest democracy. But the uneasy feeling was not because Prakash Jha had stated the obvious. It was no revelation that the government does not care for the poor. The uneasy feeling stemmed from something located outside the movie. I was watching a movie which spoke of how the rich exploited the poor in the comfort of Reliance's chairs. Around me, people were joking and laughing. Lal Salaam. Lal Salaam, as we walked down the polished floors of Reliance Big Cinemas. A movie which spoke of how the government uses agencies like the police to protect the interests of the rich against the poor, passed with minimal cuts by the Censor Board (except for the disclaimer during the Mehangai song because God Forbid, people get angry with the Tatas and the Birlas). The government has long since dropped any pretense of being a socialist, welfare state. It has in several sectors comfortably abdicated its responsibilities to the private sector. From a mixed economy, we are fast hurtling towards becoming an entirely capitalist democracy. But maybe democracy is the wrong word to use here.

The movie raises an interesting question about the alternative to modern democracy, to what might happen post the dawn of the red sun. Jo bhi bandook ki nok pe satta haasil karega, woh fir raj kesi taqat se karega? My personal discomfort with the Movement (in its fractured and splintered whole) has been the use of violence to achieve an end. In the people's dictatorship, what place will dissent have? But it begs the question then, what place does dissent have in democratic India now? That we have spaces for dissent is true. That we daily vocalize our anger and our exasperation with the government, is true. But of what use is such a carefully appropriated and efficiently channelled dissent? Where the government marks out spaces for dissent? I'm not trying to downplay the importance of dissenting voices in the country today but the worry is born because of the times we live in. The movie comes at an interesting (read – terrifying) time in Indian politics. Parliamentary sessions are disrupted. The Prime Minister passes 'reforms' when the Parliament is not in session. The Finance Minister proposes wonderful things like the National Investment Board. The government tells us that the police will be rented out to private industries as their private militia. Where is our democracy? When did we decide that citizenship was something we had to buy into like the share market? And when did we decide to look the other way when those who couldn't allocate the budget to buy a piece of this pie, in their daily budget of thirty rupees, were dispensable.

In the world's largest democracy, it seems that being poor is the worst crime one can commit. If the Maoists' guns are cause for worry, it is also worrisome that in several parts, the government is acquiring land through a mixture of force and coercion. In such a climate, our greatest internal threat is 'civil society's' complete lack of political engagement, our inability to think outside our own interests and our disinterest in challenging the government in its slow murder of democracy.

Shweta Radhakrishnan has recently completed her post-graduation from the Tata Institute of Social Sciences. Her area of research has been the politics of storytelling. Through her documentaries, she has explored the city of Mumbai. Her first documentary, City’s Edge, was based on the Deonar Dumping Ground and her second, Bharatmata ki Jai, was based on the single screen theatre, Bharatmata Cinema

 




 

 


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