This urgent and compelling book comes at a time when toxic nationalism is causing the violent and systematic exclusion of political, religious, sexual and other minorities. Manash Firaq Bhattacharjee reminds us that the modern nation-state, built on fear and an obsession with territory, is often at odds with democracy, justice and fraternity.
Critically analyzing the ideas of thinkers who laid the political and ethical grounds of India’s modern identity—Nehru, Ambedkar, Gandhi, Tagore, and Aurobindo—Bhattacharjee shows how we have strayed from their inclusive, diverse visions. He effortlessly weaves personal and intellectual histories, navigating through vast swathes of scholarship, to sketch a radically ethical imagination against the sound and fury of nationalism. He dips into fascinating anecdotes, recalling Ashok Kumar’s friendship with Manto against the shadow of Partition, Ali Sardar Jafri’s Jnanpith Award acceptance speech, and his own encounter with the Sufi qawwal, Fareed Ayaz, among others.
Concluding with an enlightening genealogy of modern politics in the light of its present crisis, he exhorts us towards a new politics of trust. Brimming with thought-provoking analyses and commentary, Looking for the Nation is an extraordinary and illuminating account of India’s politics and culture.
After nearly seventy years of independence, we are again faced with the old questions. India is democracy today, and by definition, this means a state and mode of government which allows thinking and dissent. But suddenly, there seems to be dangerous consensus that thinking which goes against power is seditious.
During the anti-colonial struggle, nationalism made people think about ways to oppose colonial injustice. Today, nationalism is asking people to play the opposite role: it is preventing people from thinking about justice. Is the new political definition of nationalism based on an assumption of consensual coercion, where thinking is disallowed? Is nationalism a celebration of the narcissistic, logical and naturalist construct of power instead of the critical, ethical and liberating idea that once inspired Gandhi and Ambedkar?
Criticism is a form of nation-love which allows thinking and dissent against power, for power itself is far from delivering justice. The only moral legitimacy which the state has, comes from its pledge to impart justice. That is why we believe in the law. Ironically, however, some of our laws are still dragging on from the colonial era, and even logically, we can see that they are of no help. They are as opposed to delivering justice now, as they were then
How can the most logical of nationalist love and pride accept such a thing?