The Indian Express, November 25, 2009
by Pratap Bhanu Mehta
One of the abiding tragedies of modern India has been that the Babri Masjid dispute could never be dealt with within a forensic legal framework. The central proposition of a constitutional democracy, that law must be allowed to take its own course, rang hollow when law was not taking any course. That the dispute itself languishes in courts, decades after it was originally instituted, is itself testament to the limited power of the law in framing this dispute. In the meantime every single political entity acquired an investment in keeping the dispute alive. The Congress ran with the hare and hunted with the hound by allowing shilanyas on the site (read Narasimha Rao’s account of Buta Singh’s conduct as home minister). Many secularist parties were less interested in finding a solution than in using the dispute to display their credentials, and many groups used the dispute to politically use minorities. Ayodhya, to borrow Emily Dickinson’s phrase, became the narcotic that nibbled away at India’s soul.
None of this context can detract from the central culpability of the BJP and the Sangh Parivar in the destruction of the mosque. The destruction was a denouement of a movement that baited minorities and left death and destruction in its wake. The only question was whether the Liberhan Commission could translate culpability into a forensically legal framework. This remains to be seen. On the face of it there is very little surprising in the revelations in relation to the BJP. When it came to the BJP it was politically convenient for all of us to hold on to distinctions without a difference. What did the distinction between saying the movement and the frenzy was planned but the destruction was not amount to? Even Rao acknowledged that the BJP leaders were pleading with the kar sevaks to stop. But that was like trying to stop an already fired bullet in mid air. Even Vajpayee’s self-exoneration, personal decency and expressions of regret were always compromised by the fact that his government did not give the slightest evidence of pursuing the perpetrators of this enormous crime. The BJP tried to dissociate itself from the act, while continuing to nurture the actors. The surprise is not in the revelations. The surprise is in our feigning surprise. For if all this is true, the report actually indicts our democracy. We were the ones trying to hold on to the ceremonies of innocence, so that we could allow a space where Hindutva was politically acceptable, but no one had to own up to its consequences.
But this will also make it difficult to read the report as anything but a political document. For one thing, phrases like “could have” will remain a question of political judgment, not legal settlement. What was exactly the point at which the Indian state opened the doors to the destruction of the mosque? Shall we stretch that inquiry back to Rajiv Gandhi’s tenure? Narasimha Rao argued that he did not have enough of a legal basis to invoke Article 356. But he also hinted that the real reason was that it was a matter of political judgment whether invoking it would not have had the effect of galvanising Hindutva forces even further. How do we judge a claim like that? There can be very little doubt of the Kalyan Singh government’s widespread complicity in the final outcome. But would it have been easy for any political leader to order firing on that mob at a very late stage? In hindsight, we can even speculate whether India in the long run was saved from Hindutva because the Babri Masjid could not be converted into a site of martyrdom; instead it remained a sordid political crime. The exoneration of Rao’s role will credibly invite charges of partisanship. The commission seems to have taken Rao’s own self-exoneration at face value.
Finally, the list of people indicted is long. From some of the accounts it is clear that the movement had widespread support amongst state functionaries. But in a sense the enlarged list of indictments will also contribute to the sense that this was a genuinely widespread social movement, not simply a conspiracy of the few.
If we are honest we have to acknowledge that just as many of the core participants may have felt a tinge of regret, there were also tens of thousands of others who, while not condoning the act, nevertheless felt a momentary catharsis when the Babri Masjid was destroyed.
In a way the success of the Liberhan report will not be measured in narrowly legal terms. The state must carry out what its legal obligations are, although these are likely to be another endless grind. But it will have to do so in a way that carries the undisputed imprimatur of credibility. And while it is a minor issue, the leak does not speak well of the state. Given how selectively commission reports have been followed, this will be hard to achieve. It will also not escape people’s notice that if the law works in this case, it will do so only when the relevant are on the political back foot. The delay in the report means that law’s triumph, if it does, will still carry the odour of politics.
The second challenge is managing the politics. India has, as many have observed, moved beyond Hindutva. But it has done so in the peculiar Indian way, which is not by the creation of a first principles based normative and legal consensus. It has done so simply by rejecting a politics of extreme polarisation. We moved on by wishing the issue away, not by resolving it. And it is also a little bit of a mistake to confuse the cultural receptivity of Hindutva with its electoral fortunes. In some ways, the report will keep the cultural politics of Hindutva alive. The BJP needs reinvention. But there is no doubt that the BJP will have to close ranks on this issue. In some ways it will make the party’s move beyond Hindutva more complicated. It cannot jettison the indicted without inviting the charge of betrayal or cowardice.
The Ayodhya disaster was facilitated by a play of ambivalences, exploited by determined groups in the Sangh Parivar. But this report will unleash two conversations. One, a public, legal and political conversation. This will be partisan and acrimonious, divisive, predictable, and given the current arraignment of political forces, not hugely consequential. But there will also be the internal one, not explicitly articulated, which will once again force us to confront all those silences, ambiguities, wishes and evasions that made Ayodhya such a symbol of our contradictions as a nation.
The writer is president, Centre for Policy Research, Delhi
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