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Thursday, December 27, 2007

Gmail - Chitralekha.JPG

Gmail - Chitralekha.JPG

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

The Verdict 2007, Gujarat : " The Development Unabated "Goes Unabated

The Verdict -2007 , Gujarat: "The Development" goes Unabated

Gujarat has again passed the majority test.
It apparently means that hating, killing and raping of minority is
okey, if
you have the sanction of majority.
Let the minority be condemned for ever to live as second class citizens,
always begging for their lives and honour.
This is just not a case of our Consitution being undermined by the
proponents of hindutva alone.
If we take the recent developments in Nandigran of West Bengal, or
those reported
from the states of Jharkhand, Chathisghad Andhrapradesh, Orissa Kerala
or any other state for that matter,
cases of cynical betrayal of the Rule Of Law by each political
partyor group , which competes with the others to push through a
neoliberal economic
agenda of Development can be seen. Despite the apparent differences in
degrees in their
stated commitments to formal democracy and peaceful forms of
governance with
allegiance to the Constitution, there seems to be a consensus running that
it is neither unethical nor undemocratic to kill, rape or loot people, if
'democratically' sanctioned by "people's mandate".
Be it the Salva Judum, the Hindutva brigade, or the armed party cadres
(with police on their side)
fighting the unarmed people engaged in democratic struggle
to protect their agricultural lands from being taken away for the sake
of SEZ,
the scenario is same everywhere notwithstanding the differences in
rhetoric.
How could it otherwise happen that the secular and non-hindutwa based
Rajeev Gandhi Foundation and the popular magazine India Today (again,
secular) capped Narendra Modi with the title of the best CM who had fared
well in bringing development to any State in recent times? Apparently,
these were outcomes of opinion polls conducted / partaken by the
representatives of classes aspiring for higher GDPs even at the
expense of
letting down vast multitudes of less privileged people.
The latter, the same people who eagerly wait outside for the crumbs of
Development are virtually being told that their fortunes depend on
supporting the very same agenda of Development: ( Never mind those
killings, rapes or lootings of 2002 done in broad daylight, though you
were
actually missing a chance, when you had been assured of impunity for
three
days not only for doing anything to dismember 'the other' , but also to
help yourself by appropriating the booty)
Though there is no claim to adding any new insight to the too familiar
discourse of Upholding Democracy Against Hate and Bigotry, I would
suggest that it is
imperative to focus more on the near consensus between the ruling
classes over the neoliberal agenda of Development as one that obscures and
subverts the Rule of Law and the Constitution , than on dwelling too
much on
the agenda of Hindurashtra itself (because it is unmistakably clear,
anyway).

South Asia Is Cynical About HR

Indian Express
December 25, 2007

SOUTH ASIA'S CYNICAL ABOUT HUMAN RIGHTS

by Ratna Kapur

Casting a glance across the South Asian region,
social and political protests abound. States
continue to oppress and exclude sections of their
citizenry from political participation or use the
very tools of law to justify incarceration in the
name of national security. As Sri Lanka quietly
slides back into civil war, Pakistan sets up a
facade of democracy, Nepal remains paralysed by
political equivocation, Burma silences its
protesting monks and India still drags its heels
over providing justice to Muslims in Gujarat and
Sikhs in Delhi, the question arises as to why the
region remains so afflicted by political
instability, civil conflict and reactionary
nationalism? Sixty years after the adoption of
the Universal Declaration on Human Rights, most
countries in the region face
serious instability,
impunity and human rights abuses.

There is no comprehensive explanation why
compliance with human rights remains such an
elusive possibility within our region. But there
is no question that human rights advocates must
take a moment to reflect on the ways in which
human rights have at times been implicated in
producing some of the harms we are witnessing
today. When the US bombs Afghanistan partly in
the name of women's rights, or proponents of
Hindutva use equality rights discourse to attack
special measures for Muslims, there is a need to
interrogate how and why human rights are
susceptible to promoting such agendas.

Human rights constantly need to be addressed
within the context in which they operate rather
than be linked to some universal prescription to
'do good'. In countries such as India or Sri
Lanka, the forces of reactionary nationalism have
pushed in the
direction of 'one nation, one
people' to justify the incarceration, if not the
extermination of those who refuse to comply with
such a claim. In Sri Lanka, the Rajapaksa
government has declared an all-out war against
the LTTE and the elimination of its entire cadre.
The government's hand is strengthened by the
Buddhist Sinhalese nationalists. They have
characterised any proposal for the opening of a
full office by the High Commissioner for Human
Rights as nothing more than foreign interference
and an abrogation of Sri Lanka's sovereignty and
national integrity. Politically, while the High
Commissioner's visit in October to Sri Lanka
marked a high water point in drawing attention to
the impunity with which atrocities were being
inflicted by all sides, the government failed to
address the seriousness of these complaints in
its watered-down proposal to simply chronicle
abuses rather than effectively
redress them.

In Nepal, the failure of the Seven Party Alliance
to ensure polls in November after the successful
people's movement has dashed expectations for a
stable democratic structure in the short term.
Many issues thrown up by the decade-long armed
conflict - which resulted in disappearances and
human rights violations by all sides - remain
unresolved. In Pakistan, a military dictatorship
is attempting to refashion itself as a
standard-bearer for democracy. Even while
everyone recognises that in this instance the
emperor has no clothes, Washington has declared
Musharraf a true democrat. Meanwhile, the human
rights violations of lawyers, the subordination
of the judiciary, and the impunity with which the
government conducts its affairs, has amplified
the voice of religious fundamentalists, and
shrunk the space for civil society. This does not
bode well for any future progress on human
rights
in that country.

While India stands firm in its commitment to the
democratic process, the Sangh Parivar continues
to attack special provisions for Muslims and
appeasement as non-secular and violating
constitutional commitments to equality. It is
indeed a prime example of how rights can be used
to advance non-progressive agendas and are not
per se liberatory nor emancipatory. At the same
time, the Left has lost the plot in its
intransigent opposition to the nuclear deal. The
deal promotes the human right to development and
has the ability to transform the lives of the
poor.

The history of human rights has not been a long
one towards progress. But the Janus-faced aspect
of human rights needs to be acknowledged. While
they can be used to advance equality, liberty and
freedom, it is also at the same time informed by
racial, religious and gender superiority, all of
which are used to
justify the exclusion of human
rights protections to a host of people.

The exclusive potential of human rights remains
evident in all countries in our region. It is a
site of power, where different visions of the
world are being fought out. To cede this terrain
would enable less progressive forces to define
the meaning of human rights. It is a messy
terrain, where ultimately mere good intentions do
not always result in progressive ends, and where
quite clearly virtue does not always move in the
direction of the virtuous.

The writer is director, Centre for Feminist Legal Research

Sunday, December 9, 2007

LET'S SHARE THE CONCERNS OF THE DAY

ON THE WORLD HUMAN RIGHTS DAY,THE 10th OF DECEMBER,
LET US RENEW OUR PLEDGE TO DO WHATEVER LITTLE POSSIBLE TO END
UNNECESSARY VIOLENCE AND HATRED TOWARD THE LESS PRIVILEGED;
LET'S CONTINUE TO SHARE THE VISIONS ABOUT A POSSIBLE WORLD
WHERE RELIGION, ETHNICITY,RACE, CASTE,GENDER MATTER LESS,
AND HUMAN RIGHTS TALKED ABOUT IN THE CONTEXT OF THEIR UNIVERSAL
ACCEPTANCE, RATHER THAN THEIR VIOLENT ABUSES AND DEPRIVATIONS BY
SOVEREIGN STATES AND ORGANIZED NON-STATE ENTITIES.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

THASLEEMA VICTIM OF NOT BIGOTRY ALONE, BUT ALSO OF POLITICAL OPORTUNISM AND MANIPULATIONS(Two Pieces Of Writings)

Exiled by Bigots' Edicts
By J. Sri Raman
t r u t h o u t | Perspective
Wednesday 28 November 2007
A woman writer who won literary trophies in her twenties. An aged artist once known and loved for his bare-foot charm and innovative brush. Both are on the run today. And no force in the vast South Asian region, stretching from New Delhi to Dhaka, can help either return home in dignity.
Painfully dramatic events over the past week, involving the persecuted Bengali writer and reminding many of the banished painter, illustrate a major threat to peace in the subcontinent - inside and between its impoverished nations. Competing forces of bigotry, whose edicts have condemned both to cruel exiles, can coexist with each other, comfortably so. But they cannot coexist with enduring South Asian peace.
Forty-five-year-old writer Taslima Nasreen is being kicked around like a football for a week now within India, where she sought asylum 13 years ago. She has been living in Kolkata (once Calcutta), capital of the State of West Bengal, which shares a border and the Bengali language and culture with Bangladesh, despite a religious divide. In this city and State, known for its love of literature and arts, she has seemed happy and at home. Not any more. It now appears doubtful whether she can return to even her first place of exile and resume her life there for long.
Maqbool Fida Husain is more than twice Nasreen's age. The 92-year-old painter, among the best-known artists of India, was forced to flee abroad in 2006. He now divides his time between Dubai and London, telling every interviewer about how much he misses his Mumbai (formerly Bombay) and the country that inspired his canvases. He, too, however, has no realistic hope of returning home in the foreseeable future.
Nasreen's exile within an exile began on November 21. That was the day Kolkata, seat of a Left Front State government, surprised the whole country with a violent agitation demanding Nasreen's expulsion from West Bengal, if not her deportation from India. The Muslims of the city and the State, whom the agitators claimed to represent, had never raised this demand in all these years.
What made the event more intriguing was it came as an unexpected twist to a rally supposedly in solidarity with a struggle of farmers in Nandigram, a far-away village that had witnessed much violence earlier. The farmers were soon all forgotten, as agitators turned the city streets into a battlefield and would not relent until Nasreen's flight became known.
Starting as a physician in a government hospital in Dhaka, Nasreen acquired both fame and infamy as she turned increasingly to writing in the early nineties. It is for literary critics to judge the quality of her works. It was her courage of conviction, as a writer for women's rights at the risk of incurring the clerics' wrath, that won her instant recognition and increasing admiration besides opposition of a most obscurantist kind.
Her strong views on this subject inevitably made her a staunch opponent of politico-religious forces that stood for persecution of the minorities (including the Hindus and Ahmedia sect of Islam) in Bangladesh. In 1994, she came out with her best-known novel titled "Lajja (Shame),"' which brought out the sectarian backlash against the minorities following the demolition of the Babri mosque in India's Ayodhya by the far-right hordes.
This brave effort brought her honors abroad, including the Sakharov Freedom of Thought Award from the European Parliament. What followed in Bangladesh, however, was an official ban on the book. The slew of court cases launched against her soon forced her to flee the country with the government encouraging her self-exile.
Husain's troubles also began in the early nineties, which saw the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), the political front of the far right, advancing towards power in New Delhi through the Ayodhya agitation. Interestingly, the anti-Husain campaign was initiated with a far-right journal abrupt re-publication of some of his portraits of a Hindu pantheon, dating back to the seventies, and assailing them as a crime against the majority community.
Husain was alleged to have offended "Hindu sensibilities" by painting some of the female deities in an "indecent" fashion. The far-right crusaders for "cultural nationalism" did not even seem to know of the similarly exquisite sculptures of the same deities in shrines where common Indians have worshiped down the centuries without any qualm.
A series of court cases hounded Husain too. When threats to his life made it even worse, Husain left India in 2006.
It is not only opponents of religious bigotry who see a parallel in the two cases of persecution. The tormentors of Nasreen actually cite the two cases together as evidence of even-handedness. Their repeated refrain is they had supported the cause of majority sectarianism in Husain's case and would like the courtesy to be reciprocated.
Some observers point to a certain subtle difference between the two cases. Husain's persecution was a punishment the majority meted out to an offender from a minority. Nasreen's torture, however, was an example of a minority community chastising one of its own. While the observation has a certain validity, it is not as if Husain has been a darling of the obscurantists of his own community.
He faced their ire when his experimental film titled "Meenaxi: A Tale of Three Cities" was released in 2004. Clerics took strong exception to one of the songs in the film on the grounds it reproduced words from the Quran and, therefore, amounted to a gross blasphemy. The film had to be pulled out of theaters after a day's showing.
The BJP has not agreed to back the bullying of Nasreen as a quid pro quo for the minority sectarians' support for Husain's banishment. It has, in fact, seized the opportunity to mount an offensive on the Left and the Manmohan Singh government. The episode, the far right claims, exposes the hypocrisy of its political foes and the skin-deep nature of their "secularism."
It is true that often, perhaps too often, parties and forces that claim to fight the BJP and the rest of the far right fail to do so frontally and betray a lack of firmness in the face of a rabble-rousing campaign by religious fundamentalists. This, however, does not make the BJP's allegedly pro-Nasreen agitprop anything but an extension of its anti-minority offensive, which includes demonization of Muslims and Islam as a whole.
The most outrageously funny part of the BJP campaign must be the pro-Nasreen perorations emanating from Narendra Modi. The BJP chief minister of the State of Gujarat, who presided over the anti-minority pogrom of 2002, has offered Nasreen unsolicited protection. He has invited her to seek asylum in Gujarat, if she cannot return to Kolkata. No one has asked him where the thousands of Muslims, who were forced to flee Gujarat and still cannot return home, will find their refuge.
Even as politics rages all around her, Nasreen is being shifted from place to place for "her own safety" as intelligence agencies continue to insist. And, even as his name is being bandied about in the debate over her, there is no word about anyone doing anything to ensure the return of nonagenarian Husain who has brought laurels to his nation as Nasreen did to hers.

A freelance journalist and a peace activist in India, J. Sri Raman is the author of "Flashpoint" (Common Courage Press, USA). He is a regular contributor to Truthout.
II.

'Condemned to life as an outsider

Driven out of Kolkata by violent protests last week, Taslima Nasrin talks to Kathleen McCaul from hiding about her battle for free expression

Friday November 30, 2007
Guardian Unlimited

Writers lives are proverbially quiet, but Taslima Nasrin's is a frighteningly noisy one. Last week in Kolkata, where the Bangladeshi author has been living since 2004, Muslim groups who claimed she had insulted Islam demonstrated to demand she leave India. Hundreds took to the streets and violence flared.
"There was burning going on and I was terrified. The two policemen who were supposed to be guarding my door had gone. People said I would be killed by Islamic fundamentalists, the mob would come and attack my house," Nasrin says, her voice shaky as she speaks from a safe house near Delhi.
It's not the first time public feeling about her writing has forced her to flee. Angry, atheistic, and sexually explicit, her work has long been the source of fierce controversy. In 1994, she slipped out of Bangladesh after her books' vehement attacks on the position of women in Islamic societies led to charges of blasphemy. She then spent a decade in Sweden where, she has said, she felt "condemned to life as an outsider". Her novels, poetry and journalism have been translated from Bengali into 20 languages but life as an insider, it seems, remains a distant hope.
Nasrin was born in 1962 into a devout Muslim family. Her own experience of sexual abuse and her work as a gynaecologist in Bangladesh - where she routinely examined young girls who had been raped - informs her angry writing about the treatment of women in Islam and against religion in general. Her most famous novel, Lajja (Shame), focused on state-sponsored persecution and violence against Bangladesh's Hindu minority and sparked off protests which led to the proceedings against her. Her four volumes of sexually explicit memoirs - still banned in Bangladesh - and outspoken newspaper articles have also fuelled her notoriety.
She subsequently became a standard-bearer for freedom of speech and was written about admiringly in the New Yorker and Time. She remembers how every country wanted to give her shelter: she was viewed as a status symbol of democracy. But she wanted to go home. She tried again and again before finally settling three years ago in the Indian state of West Bengal, which, together with modern day Bangladesh, made up the old pre-partition state of Bengal.
"I want to live in Kolkata, I don't want to live in Europe, I can't write there," she said. "I write in Bengali and I need to be surrounded by the Bengali language and culture." For two years it seemed she might have found a home there, but last week's events - which saw 50 people injured and a curfew imposed - have put paid to that dream.
She first travelled under the cover of a burqa to the western Indian state of Rajasthan, thousands of miles away from West Bengal, but the police there said they couldn't provide her with adequate security. She was moved to Delhi in a convoy of cars, chased by media who picked up grainy images of her in the back of an official car being whisked away.
Nasrin's critics say she is intentionally outrageous and should have seen this coming. Earlier in the year an Islamic group offered a reward for her beheading and protesters - including local politicians - ransacked a book launch in Tamil Nadu for her novel Shodh (Getting Even).
"This is a culmination of the offence her writing has caused over the years, " said Dr Alum Mansoor, general secretary of All India Milli Council, one of the groups which has been protesting against Nasrin.
Nasrin first enraged clerics with a series of Bangladeshi newspaper columns which criticised the treatment of women under Islam; describing in one article the execution of a 21-year-old woman by burying her waist-deep in a pit and then stoning her because her marriage was deemed un-Islamic.
But all this was over 10 years ago, and Nasrin thinks the timing of this flare-up of violence is very suspicious. In recent years she has been directing her frank prose not towards Muslim fundamentalists but at Calcutta's literary circles, with kiss-and-tell autobiographies describing, in detail, sexual encounters with prominent Bengali poets. (She caused one furore when she claimed that one renowned poet was having an affair with his sister-in-law.)
"I'm writing a lot, but not about Islam," she explains. "It's not my subject now. This is about politics. In the last three months I have been put under severe pressure to leave Bengal by the police."
Even Muslim figures such as Dr Mansoor think she is being used by the West Bengal government as a way of diverting attention from an altogether different scandal - the dispute between the state and Muslim farmers in the rural district of Nandigram. When the government tried to take over Nandigram to turn it into an industrial hub, the farmers fought back. Fourteen people were killed in one encounter and reports of ongoing violence have continued to shock India.
At a candle-lit vigil for Nasrin in Delhi on Tuesday, her defenders were passionate in her defence. "There has been disquiet over the number of Muslim deaths in Nandigram and who is the obvious symbol of disquiet in West Bengal? Taslima. She is an easy target. Some extremely political moves are being made in the state and she is being caught in the crossfire despite not opening her mouth on the issue," said Rita Menon, her publisher, holding a large placard in the growing dark.
Nasrin says that her treatment has nothing to do with Nandigram and is unusually quiet on the subject. But with the state in such turmoil, a quiet return to Kolkata for Nasrin looks unlikely. Menon is bleak.
"We do worry. I have no idea what will happen. She can go anywhere but she needs a particular environment in which to write - a place where she can speak to language and she has a cultural context in which to write," she said.
Nasrin, meanwhile, describes herself as "traumatised". "This has upset me so much," she says. "I can't think of anything else. I write from the heart. I see the truth and I want to tell the truth. We can't let the fundamentalists win."
The Indian media, government and literary establishment have come out to support Nasrin - in front page news, TV headlines and major editorials - despite the criticism of her work in recent years. She has become the latest symbol of the fight for freedom of expression in a country fraught with communal tensions. Whether she will win her own fight, for a voice and a home, remains uncertain.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

MIDDLE CLASS AND NARCISSISTIC PERSONALITY DISORDER

Middle Class Angst: The Politics Of Lemmings- Part I

By Stan Goff

20November, 2007
CarolynBaker.net


There is a common misconception among environmentalists and peak-oilers (I count myself among both) that cars created the suburbs. The car suburb, however, became what it is with regard to cars only incidentally. The real motive for the suburbs was plain garden-variety white supremacy. Cars simply became necessary to facilitate the spatial segregation that simultaneously confined African America largely to decaying urban spaces and built the 'burbs as white enclaves. It's not that simple any more, of course. All things change all the time - as we'll see momentarily - but it was white fear and loathing of the Dark Other that set the whole process in motion.

The sudden discovery - still ongoing - that most of us (more than half the US now lives in Suburbia) are trapped here if and when our private automobiles run out of gas (or the money to buy it), came after suburbanization was a fait accompli. This is the stage in any historical process where people begin to indulge themselves in disambiguation of the past - simplifying what has happened until it appears that it was predictable all along. Since we believe this - that things are predictable - we are easily convinced that correlation equals causation in our reconstructions of history; and we apply those correlatives that are familiar and comfortable. Ergo, because oil companies and auto manufacturers participated in the development of Suburbia, they were the conscious agents of it all along. White environmentalists and many white peak-oilers are not well-versed in the history of race, and they have shitty heuristics for understanding how it is constituted.

Not surprisingly, their heuristic - the equivalent of what we call intuition, or common sense - is that of Suburbia, which has been the predominant mode of white American thought since the late 1960s. It is what Matthew Lassiter calls "the prevailing language of middle-class meritocracy and color-blind innocence."

The City of Richmond's present pattern of residential housing... is a reflection of past racial discrimination contributed in part by local, state, and federal government... Negroes in Richmond live where they do because the have no choice.

-Bradley v. Richmond (1972),

District Judge Robert R. Merhige, Jr.


We think that the root causes of the concentration of blacks in the inner cities of America are simply not known.

-Bradley v. Richmond (Appeal, 1972),

Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals

Highway construction, urban renewal programs, loan policies, municipal annexations, and court decisions that re-coded race as untouchable-class, were all instrumental in the development of Suburbia, and the concomitant development of the Black ghetto. These practices were not accidental or self-organizing or the product of "market forces." They were systematic, intentional, and imposed. When the preponderance of evidence showed in court (Bradley v. Richmond) that this was the case, the Fourth Circuit established the official federal position on the matter. "We don't remember how it got to be this way; therefore we can do nothing about it."

I mention this just to set the stage for my main thesis. The history of this development is ably and accessibly articulated in Matthew Lassiter's very important book, The Silent Majority - Suburban Politics in the Sunbelt (Princeton University Press, 2006).

The population shift to the suburbs and the power shift to the Sunbelt economy requires a new metropolitan framework for political history and public policy that transcends the urban-suburban dichotomy and confronts instead of obscures the pervasive politics of class in the suburban strategies of the volatile center. Surely an honest assessment of the nation's collective responsibility in creating the contemporary metropolitan landscape remains an essential prerequisite for grappling with the spatial fusion of racial and class politics that ultimately produced an underlying suburban consensus in the electoral arena. If "the problem of the color line" represented the fundamental crisis of the twentieth century, the foremost challenge of the twenty-first has evolved into the suburban synthesis of racial inequality and class segregation at the heart of what may or may not be the New American Dilemma. (Lassiter, p. 323)

Lassiter's "dilemma" was that of racial segregation, segregation which was spatial instead of formal... segregation which required no White and Negro water fountains. The court-supported myth that the new segregation is de facto and not de jure flies in the face of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. In fact, it is very much like the Israeli "facts-on-the-ground" approach to the occupation of Palestine; and the condition of the vast majority of African America remains structurally more colonized than merely unequal.

But I want to look at another dilemma that has settled in on the suburbs themselves, and which has pushed the entire United States into a potentially calamitous conjuncture.

If we do not understand the suburb - as a system - based on its historical development, then we cannot understand the post-Apartheid "Sunbelt" South, which is fundamentally based on the expansion of suburbs, and with it the expansion of political power in the suburbs. This expansion of political power would culminate with the 1972 re-election of Richard Nixon.

Contrary to popular belief, Nixon was not primarily re-elected because of opponent George McGovern's ardent opposition to the Vietnam War. By 1972, a majority of the American voting public had grown sour on the war. The issue that Nixon rode back into the White House in a historical landslide (McGovern carried only Massachusetts and the District of Colombia) was busing.

The 50s and 60s brought two tectonic social phenomena together in a potentially explosive combination: the Cold War and the Black Freedom Struggle, the latter of which took form as what is now called the Civil Rights Movement.

With the post-war collapse of the old Euro-based colonial order, and the global challenge offered to US influence by the Eurasian communist bloc, the US found itself having to justify its domestic policies to the emerging post-colonial world... post-colonial nations themselves the victims of Euro-American white supremacy.

The US appeal to a liberal vision of democratic rights - as an alternative to the "authoritarian communists" (which most of them were, significantly in masculinist reaction to hostile encirclement) - was undermined by the de jure system of racial-caste Apartheid that was practiced in the United States' former Civil War Confederacy.

The political establishment in the US found itself on the horns of a historical dilemma. Near-term political ambition, which had to take account of the South's bank of federal electoral power, was at odds with Jim Crow as a political embarrassment in US foreign policy.

The backdrop cannot be overestimated, even though it remains little remarked in most histories of the era. The average history treats these two phenomena - Cold War and Civil Rights Movement - almost as if they were hermetically sealed from one another.

These were more than merely ideological contradictions. The economic "location" of African America was such that the domestic economy of the South and the North was rigidly imbricated with this vast pool of colonial-level labor; at the same time, access to the post-colonial nations abroad represented an essential field of "primitive accumulation" upon which to construct the next upwave of capitalist valorization in the still-young American post-war system.

Deconstructing Jim Crow without undermining the economy, losing the electoral South, or making space for a social revolution would be a perilous and lengthy process.

Lassiter makes a prima facie case that this was accomplished through suburbanization.

Mass movements and grassroots rebellions compel American politicians to respond to them. This is a widely acknowledged fact on the left; yet on questions of voting and mass movements the left generally has little to say that is more than polemical. Lassiter's work - like that of "radical urban theorists" with whom he associates himself - is an important exception.

While there has been much written and reams of analysis on the Civil Rights Movement, there is a paucity of critical work on how white America has reacted to that mass movement with one of its own. Consequently, we generally share a purely ideological account of politics: Republicans are right-wing, Democrats are bourgeois good-cops, the two-party system is a ruling class fix, everyone sits at some point on a continuum from reactionary on one end to communist on the other, et cetera.

I will acknowledge demographics; that is, African Americans vote overwhelmingly for Democrats, white men are more likely to vote Republican, and so forth. I also acknowledge how racial attitudes (and less often point out how gender) is a factor in people's political-electoral behavior.

We pay too little attention, however, to the built spatial environment.

The majority of Americans now live in suburbs; and suburbs have for decades now had a particular political character and identity. That identity, and the fact suburban voters constitute the most effective voting bloc in the US, has more than any other factor facilitated the narrowing of differences between the two dominant political parties.

Suburban voters have the highest rates of voter turnout; and they represent more than half the total population of the US.

Suburban life has a number of distinctive qualities that harmonize the political interests of suburban residents. Much lip service is paid by radicals to the role of work in the formation of "consciousness." The emergence of critical geography, which studies the determinants of personality and ideology in the more general environment - in particular the spatial aspects of social development - has added a fresh and, I would argue, critically important dimension to the "materialist conception of history."

A snapshot of suburban life reveals:

•· that we are organized into exclusively residential enclaves that are bounded by a series of circumferential cul-de-sacs;

•· that we are married with children; that we are mostly "white collar" (or aspiring to be white collar);

•· that we work away from these residential enclaves, often substantial distances away, and therefore are absolutely dependent on personal automobiles and the money to maintain and fuel them;

•· that our public lives are divided between these far-flung work spaces, as well as zoned and concentrated consumer spaces; that one's local public school complex is where children spend most of their days;

•· and that the relationships formed by children as well as a common interest in schools are the source of most local social networking (adult relationships are more often formed at work).

The latter is politically significant because political power is organized spatially, with voting precincts at the most local level, followed by various subdivisions, beginning with school board districts. People are dispersed for their work, which no longer then corresponds to locally-consolidated and personally-networked political interests.

David Harvey has written on the global contradiction between the "financial logic of capital" and the "territorial logic of the state," and how there is an incipient crisis in this cross-logic. Following that argument down diminishing fractal scales, I will suggest that there is a cross-logic at work in the continuing evolution of the suburbs, between the territorial (and therefore local) logic of electoral-political practice and the trans-local grid upon which Suburbia is seemingly inextricably dependent.

Lassiter explains in his book that the suburban political identity is threefold: school parent, homeowner, and consumer-taxpayer. I will expand that identity further down; but these are essential to understand because other issues for Suburbia will inevitably relate back to one or another of these aspects of suburban political identity.

The political potency of local spatial concentration (and political debilitations inhering in spatial expansions) is a key issue in any critical analysis of the seeming political malaise of the left, which has been overwhelmingly oriented on economic class as the "primary social contradiction."

When the labor movement was at its most effective in the United States, workers and working class families were concentrated both on the job and in the residential concentrations specifically built to house workers near these points of production. With the dispersion of workplaces, and the even more dramatic dispersion of living space, and the growing non-correspondence between work and residence, many solidarities were spatially disassembled. We then saw a concurrent (and I would argue, causal) free-fall of union density in the US. Certainly, other factors, such as anti-union policies and laws, as well as the dramatic off-shoring of certain manufacturing production over the last two decades, are determinative as well. But union organizing doesn't primarily happen on the job. It happens on house visits. When those houses are dispersed over hundreds of square miles even around a single point of production, that constitutes an exponential increase in the difficulty and expense (in time, energy, and money) of something as simple yet critical as the organizers' house visits.

On the issue of class, the left has traditionally defined class in a fairly limited and mechanical way, as one's "relation to the means of production." While this may serve as some quasi-objective description of one component of class, it is inadequate to get at many aspects of class reality that actually translate into political action... in particular, the "subjective" experience of class, which varies so wildly and is so multiply inflected, that honesty compels us to admit that basic "relation to the means of production" standard is - in any real instantiation - hopelessly reductionist and inadequate.

The experience of class for American Suburbia is largely seen by the residents themselves as something called "middle class." The left is correct to say that this taxonomy obscures certain realities from the people themselves; but at the same time, the perception of the suburban middle class that they are unique is essentially correct. The reason their lives are perceived as different from that of people living in urban US ghettos or Brazilian favelas or factory towns in China is that their lives are different from all those places.

Suburbia is a cyborg. It is a techno-industrial grid within which its human residents are trapped, conformed, dependent units in a vast, entropic feedback loop. It is also - as a whole - dependent on an inconceivably extravagant and uninterrupted inflow of materials from across the globe. Without that uninterrupted inflow, Suburbia will convulse and perish.

The process of consuming these materials creates the Suburban consequence of waste. Volcanically growing islands of landfill - so vast that there is now a global import-export industry for trash, for all that abandoned technomass; and we live in an ever more micro-toxified environment.

Cyborg: an organism that is a self-regulating integration of artificial and natural systems.

Suburbia is also a spiritual wasteland, a place where the wonder of nature is desecrated ubiquitously with corporate logos and all the artifacts of late technological society.

I myself was sitting in my front yard today, where I have kept an organic garden through a struggle against the homeowners association. Everything edible except my leeks are out now, leaving a few pansies, geraniums, heather, and the toughest of the marigolds. I also have one feral red onion. The soil is resting and matted with the red clover I planted in early fall. The breeze was blowing on my face and the apple and birch trees were dancing. There was a squirrel making circles with her tail on top of the bluebird house. A wren was on an old Haitian drum. Cardinals and mourning doves pick in the wheat straw I used for winter mulch.

I am surrounded by people who never see these things, even though it is all around them. My grandson and I look at the moon through binoculars on the front steps at night. No one else here seems to be doing these things; but they are spending plenty of time buying more technology... and nowadays struggling to balance the demands of obligatory middle-class consumption with a growing pre-volcanic debt.

Max Weber called this phenomenon "disenchantment." Commoditized culture is manipulative and utilitarian (not to mention highly bureaucratic). One of the main political identities of Suburbia is commodity "consumer."

Not surprisingly, the one truly integrated space in the US is consumer space... the mall.

It is this extreme instrumentalism - the old joke about the dog having no use for anything it couldn't mate with, piss on, or eat - that leads directly to our loss of enchantment with nature... precisely because nature is free-of-charge, and therefore without value. Worthless, and often worse... dangerous... hence, suburban germophobia, hatred of "weeds," the association of nature with dangerous disorder.

The post-Freudians called psychic connection to things beyond ourselves "cathexis." Audre Lorde called it erotic energy, "that power which rises from our deepest and non-rational knowledge."

Commoditized, instrumental culture has separated us from these deeper, non-rational psychic connections; and I will argue that inherent in this process of separation - this disenchantment - is a collective narcissistic personality disorder (NPD).

I am highly suspicious of the whole notion of individual personality disorder, but I'll table that critique here, because NPD can serve a heuristic purpose.

General guidelines for NPD are (1) grandiose sense of self-importance, (2) preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, perfect beauty, idealized love, etc., (3) belief that one is "special" and explicable only by others who are almost-equally special, (4) obsessive need for attention and admiration, (5) powerful sense of entitlement, (6) instrumental attitude toward human relations (using others, or taking advantage of them), (7) low index of felt-empathy (feigned empathy is in the repertoire of manipulation), (8) feels excessive envy and suspects envy of others for him/herself, and (9) displays of arrogance... there are a few others. Psychiatry says that any five of these suggests NPD.

Not only are these characteristics not abnormal in Suburbia - or even the general American culture - they are cultivated as norms by our ideology of social Darwinism, and ceaselessly reinforced by commoditized culture through brand-name status competition, advertising, and the cultural norms of the gender hierarchy (masculinity and femininity).

Another aspect of NPD, that is also intrinsic to American Suburbia's worldview, is a hair-trigger perception of victimization. This is the twin of a sense of entitlement.

This is the most dangerous aspect of the Suburban character. Within the intellectual barricades of middle-class belief in their own meritocracy, any challenge to the myth that Suburbia is a social outcome of (natural) Market TM forces is conflated with the Dark World vestiges of propaganda from the Cold War, from the Negro threat, and now from "terrorism" and the demographic attack of the "illegal immigrants."

The suburban populism that Lassiter describes - which emerged as a struggle to prevent school integration by busing - adopted the color-blind language of Dr. Kings speech on "the content of their character," and reiterated their claim that their rights were being violated... the spatial segregation of suburb and ghetto was rewritten as class, not race, in order to provide Suburbia what Lassiter calls "color blind racial innocence."

In the same move, Suburbia flipped the script on the Civil Rights movement, and claimed oppressed status at the hands of the federal courts (beginning with Brown v Board of Education). This epistemological theft was facilitated by the Fourth Circuit's reversal-on-appeal of Bradley v. Richmond, wherein the real history of urban renewal, zoning, districting, and transportation policy and planning - which were the de jure instruments of re-segregation - were erased from juridical memory.

STAN GOFF is the author of Hideous Dream, Full Spectrum Disorder, The Military In The New American Century, and Sex And War. He also manages his Feral Scholar website and is familiar to many Truth To Power Readers as a result of his monumental series published at From The Wilderness on the death of Pat Tillman--a series to which many attribute Congressional investigation of that event.



How Do We Champions Of Freedom Go About These Words?

Taslima's words

'If any religion allows the persecution of the people of different faiths, if any religion keeps women in slavery, if any religion keeps people in ignorance, then I can't accept that religion.'
'Humankind is facing an uncertain future. The probability of new kinds of rivalry and conflict looms large. In particular, the conflict is between two different ideas, secularism and fundamentalism. I don't agree with those who think the conflict is between two religions, namely Christianity and Islam, or Judaism and Islam. After all there are fundamentalists in every religious community. I don't agree with those people who think that the crusades of the Middle Ages are going to be repeated soon. Nor do I think that this is a conflict between the East and the West. To me, this conflict is basically between modern, rational, logical thinking and irrational, blind faith. To me, this is a conflict between modernity and anti-modernism. While some strive to go forward, others strive to go backward. It is a conflict between the future and the past, between innovation and tradition, between those who value freedom and those who do not.'
'Freedom of expression for some is not enough.
We must work for freedom of expression for all.
Human rights for some is not enough.
We must work for the human rights for all.
Peace for some is not enough.
We must work for peace for all.
I, come what may, will not be silenced.
Come what may, I will continue my fight for equality and justice without any compromise until my death.
Come what may, I will never be silenced.'

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Middle Class Value System And The Global politics

Middle Class Angst: The Politics Of Lemmings- Part I
By Stan Goff 20November, 2007 CarolynBaker.net
There is a common misconception among environmentalists and peak-oilers (I count myself among both) that cars created the suburbs. The car suburb, however, became what it is with regard to cars only incidentally. The real motive for the suburbs was plain garden-variety white supremacy. Cars simply became necessary to facilitate the spatial segregation that simultaneously confined African America largely to decaying urban spaces and built the ‘burbs as white enclaves. It's not that simple any more, of course. All things change all the time - as we'll see momentarily - but it was white fear and loathing of the Dark Other that set the whole process in motion.
The sudden discovery - still ongoing - that most of us (more than half the US now lives in Suburbia) are trapped here if and when our private automobiles run out of gas (or the money to buy it), came after suburbanization was a fait accompli. This is the stage in any historical process where people begin to indulge themselves in disambiguation of the past - simplifying what has happened until it appears that it was predictable all along. Since we believe this - that things are predictable - we are easily convinced that correlation equals causation in our reconstructions of history; and we apply those correlatives that are familiar and comfortable. Ergo, because oil companies and auto manufacturers participated in the development of Suburbia, they were the conscious agents of it all along. White environmentalists and many white peak-oilers are not well-versed in the history of race, and they have shitty heuristics for understanding how it is constituted.
Not surprisingly, their heuristic - the equivalent of what we call intuition, or common sense - is that of Suburbia, which has been the predominant mode of white American thought since the late 1960s. It is what Matthew Lassiter calls "the prevailing language of middle-class meritocracy and color-blind innocence."
The City of Richmond's present pattern of residential housing... is a reflection of past racial discrimination contributed in part by local, state, and federal government... Negroes in Richmond live where they do because the have no choice.
-Bradley v. Richmond (1972),
District Judge Robert R. Merhige, Jr.
We think that the root causes of the concentration of blacks in the inner cities of America are simply not known.
-Bradley v. Richmond (Appeal, 1972),
Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals
Highway construction, urban renewal programs, loan policies, municipal annexations, and court decisions that re-coded race as untouchable-class, were all instrumental in the development of Suburbia, and the concomitant development of the Black ghetto. These practices were not accidental or self-organizing or the product of "market forces." They were systematic, intentional, and imposed. When the preponderance of evidence showed in court (Bradley v. Richmond) that this was the case, the Fourth Circuit established the official federal position on the matter. "We don't remember how it got to be this way; therefore we can do nothing about it."
I mention this just to set the stage for my main thesis. The history of this development is ably and accessibly articulated in Matthew Lassiter's very important book, The Silent Majority - Suburban Politics in the Sunbelt (Princeton University Press, 2006).
The population shift to the suburbs and the power shift to the Sunbelt economy requires a new metropolitan framework for political history and public policy that transcends the urban-suburban dichotomy and confronts instead of obscures the pervasive politics of class in the suburban strategies of the volatile center. Surely an honest assessment of the nation's collective responsibility in creating the contemporary metropolitan landscape remains an essential prerequisite for grappling with the spatial fusion of racial and class politics that ultimately produced an underlying suburban consensus in the electoral arena. If "the problem of the color line" represented the fundamental crisis of the twentieth century, the foremost challenge of the twenty-first has evolved into the suburban synthesis of racial inequality and class segregation at the heart of what may or may not be the New American Dilemma. (Lassiter, p. 323)
Lassiter's "dilemma" was that of racial segregation, segregation which was spatial instead of formal... segregation which required no White and Negro water fountains. The court-supported myth that the new segregation is de facto and not de jure flies in the face of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. In fact, it is very much like the Israeli "facts-on-the-ground" approach to the occupation of Palestine; and the condition of the vast majority of African America remains structurally more colonized than merely unequal.
But I want to look at another dilemma that has settled in on the suburbs themselves, and which has pushed the entire United States into a potentially calamitous conjuncture.
If we do not understand the suburb - as a system - based on its historical development, then we cannot understand the post-Apartheid "Sunbelt" South, which is fundamentally based on the expansion of suburbs, and with it the expansion of political power in the suburbs. This expansion of political power would culminate with the 1972 re-election of Richard Nixon.
Contrary to popular belief, Nixon was not primarily re-elected because of opponent George McGovern's ardent opposition to the Vietnam War. By 1972, a majority of the American voting public had grown sour on the war. The issue that Nixon rode back into the White House in a historical landslide (McGovern carried only Massachusetts and the District of Colombia) was busing.
The 50s and 60s brought two tectonic social phenomena together in a potentially explosive combination: the Cold War and the Black Freedom Struggle, the latter of which took form as what is now called the Civil Rights Movement.
With the post-war collapse of the old Euro-based colonial order, and the global challenge offered to US influence by the Eurasian communist bloc, the US found itself having to justify its domestic policies to the emerging post-colonial world... post-colonial nations themselves the victims of Euro-American white supremacy.
The US appeal to a liberal vision of democratic rights - as an alternative to the "authoritarian communists" (which most of them were, significantly in masculinist reaction to hostile encirclement) - was undermined by the de jure system of racial-caste Apartheid that was practiced in the United States' former Civil War Confederacy.
The political establishment in the US found itself on the horns of a historical dilemma. Near-term political ambition, which had to take account of the South's bank of federal electoral power, was at odds with Jim Crow as a political embarrassment in US foreign policy.
The backdrop cannot be overestimated, even though it remains little remarked in most histories of the era. The average history treats these two phenomena - Cold War and Civil Rights Movement - almost as if they were hermetically sealed from one another.
These were more than merely ideological contradictions. The economic "location" of African America was such that the domestic economy of the South and the North was rigidly imbricated with this vast pool of colonial-level labor; at the same time, access to the post-colonial nations abroad represented an essential field of "primitive accumulation" upon which to construct the next upwave of capitalist valorization in the still-young American post-war system.
Deconstructing Jim Crow without undermining the economy, losing the electoral South, or making space for a social revolution would be a perilous and lengthy process.
Lassiter makes a prima facie case that this was accomplished through suburbanization.
Mass movements and grassroots rebellions compel American politicians to respond to them. This is a widely acknowledged fact on the left; yet on questions of voting and mass movements the left generally has little to say that is more than polemical. Lassiter's work - like that of "radical urban theorists" with whom he associates himself - is an important exception.
While there has been much written and reams of analysis on the Civil Rights Movement, there is a paucity of critical work on how white America has reacted to that mass movement with one of its own. Consequently, we generally share a purely ideological account of politics: Republicans are right-wing, Democrats are bourgeois good-cops, the two-party system is a ruling class fix, everyone sits at some point on a continuum from reactionary on one end to communist on the other, et cetera.
I will acknowledge demographics; that is, African Americans vote overwhelmingly for Democrats, white men are more likely to vote Republican, and so forth. I also acknowledge how racial attitudes (and less often point out how gender) is a factor in people's political-electoral behavior.
We pay too little attention, however, to the built spatial environment.
The majority of Americans now live in suburbs; and suburbs have for decades now had a particular political character and identity. That identity, and the fact suburban voters constitute the most effective voting bloc in the US, has more than any other factor facilitated the narrowing of differences between the two dominant political parties.
Suburban voters have the highest rates of voter turnout; and they represent more than half the total population of the US.
Suburban life has a number of distinctive qualities that harmonize the political interests of suburban residents. Much lip service is paid by radicals to the role of work in the formation of "consciousness." The emergence of critical geography, which studies the determinants of personality and ideology in the more general environment - in particular the spatial aspects of social development - has added a fresh and, I would argue, critically important dimension to the "materialist conception of history."
A snapshot of suburban life reveals:
•· that we are organized into exclusively residential enclaves that are bounded by a series of circumferential cul-de-sacs;
•· that we are married with children; that we are mostly "white collar" (or aspiring to be white collar);
•· that we work away from these residential enclaves, often substantial distances away, and therefore are absolutely dependent on personal automobiles and the money to maintain and fuel them;
•· that our public lives are divided between these far-flung work spaces, as well as zoned and concentrated consumer spaces; that one's local public school complex is where children spend most of their days;
•· and that the relationships formed by children as well as a common interest in schools are the source of most local social networking (adult relationships are more often formed at work).
The latter is politically significant because political power is organized spatially, with voting precincts at the most local level, followed by various subdivisions, beginning with school board districts. People are dispersed for their work, which no longer then corresponds to locally-consolidated and personally-networked political interests.
David Harvey has written on the global contradiction between the "financial logic of capital" and the "territorial logic of the state," and how there is an incipient crisis in this cross-logic. Following that argument down diminishing fractal scales, I will suggest that there is a cross-logic at work in the continuing evolution of the suburbs, between the territorial (and therefore local) logic of electoral-political practice and the trans-local grid upon which Suburbia is seemingly inextricably dependent.
Lassiter explains in his book that the suburban political identity is threefold: school parent, homeowner, and consumer-taxpayer. I will expand that identity further down; but these are essential to understand because other issues for Suburbia will inevitably relate back to one or another of these aspects of suburban political identity.
The political potency of local spatial concentration (and political debilitations inhering in spatial expansions) is a key issue in any critical analysis of the seeming political malaise of the left, which has been overwhelmingly oriented on economic class as the "primary social contradiction."
When the labor movement was at its most effective in the United States, workers and working class families were concentrated both on the job and in the residential concentrations specifically built to house workers near these points of production. With the dispersion of workplaces, and the even more dramatic dispersion of living space, and the growing non-correspondence between work and residence, many solidarities were spatially disassembled. We then saw a concurrent (and I would argue, causal) free-fall of union density in the US. Certainly, other factors, such as anti-union policies and laws, as well as the dramatic off-shoring of certain manufacturing production over the last two decades, are determinative as well. But union organizing doesn't primarily happen on the job. It happens on house visits. When those houses are dispersed over hundreds of square miles even around a single point of production, that constitutes an exponential increase in the difficulty and expense (in time, energy, and money) of something as simple yet critical as the organizers' house visits.
On the issue of class, the left has traditionally defined class in a fairly limited and mechanical way, as one's "relation to the means of production." While this may serve as some quasi-objective description of one component of class, it is inadequate to get at many aspects of class reality that actually translate into political action... in particular, the "subjective" experience of class, which varies so wildly and is so multiply inflected, that honesty compels us to admit that basic "relation to the means of production" standard is - in any real instantiation - hopelessly reductionist and inadequate.
The experience of class for American Suburbia is largely seen by the residents themselves as something called "middle class." The left is correct to say that this taxonomy obscures certain realities from the people themselves; but at the same time, the perception of the suburban middle class that they are unique is essentially correct. The reason their lives are perceived as different from that of people living in urban US ghettos or Brazilian favelas or factory towns in China is that their lives are different from all those places.
Suburbia is a cyborg. It is a techno-industrial grid within which its human residents are trapped, conformed, dependent units in a vast, entropic feedback loop. It is also - as a whole - dependent on an inconceivably extravagant and uninterrupted inflow of materials from across the globe. Without that uninterrupted inflow, Suburbia will convulse and perish.
The process of consuming these materials creates the Suburban consequence of waste. Volcanically growing islands of landfill - so vast that there is now a global import-export industry for trash, for all that abandoned technomass; and we live in an ever more micro-toxified environment.
Cyborg: an organism that is a self-regulating integration of artificial and natural systems.
Suburbia is also a spiritual wasteland, a place where the wonder of nature is desecrated ubiquitously with corporate logos and all the artifacts of late technological society.
I myself was sitting in my front yard today, where I have kept an organic garden through a struggle against the homeowners association. Everything edible except my leeks are out now, leaving a few pansies, geraniums, heather, and the toughest of the marigolds. I also have one feral red onion. The soil is resting and matted with the red clover I planted in early fall. The breeze was blowing on my face and the apple and birch trees were dancing. There was a squirrel making circles with her tail on top of the bluebird house. A wren was on an old Haitian drum. Cardinals and mourning doves pick in the wheat straw I used for winter mulch.
I am surrounded by people who never see these things, even though it is all around them. My grandson and I look at the moon through binoculars on the front steps at night. No one else here seems to be doing these things; but they are spending plenty of time buying more technology... and nowadays struggling to balance the demands of obligatory middle-class consumption with a growing pre-volcanic debt.
Max Weber called this phenomenon "disenchantment." Commoditized culture is manipulative and utilitarian (not to mention highly bureaucratic). One of the main political identities of Suburbia is commodity "consumer."
Not surprisingly, the one truly integrated space in the US is consumer space... the mall.
It is this extreme instrumentalism - the old joke about the dog having no use for anything it couldn't mate with, piss on, or eat - that leads directly to our loss of enchantment with nature... precisely because nature is free-of-charge, and therefore without value. Worthless, and often worse... dangerous... hence, suburban germophobia, hatred of "weeds," the association of nature with dangerous disorder.
The post-Freudians called psychic connection to things beyond ourselves "cathexis." Audre Lorde called it erotic energy, "that power which rises from our deepest and non-rational knowledge."
Commoditized, instrumental culture has separated us from these deeper, non-rational psychic connections; and I will argue that inherent in this process of separation - this disenchantment - is a collective narcissistic personality disorder (NPD).
I am highly suspicious of the whole notion of individual personality disorder, but I'll table that critique here, because NPD can serve a heuristic purpose.
General guidelines for NPD are (1) grandiose sense of self-importance, (2) preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, perfect beauty, idealized love, etc., (3) belief that one is "special" and explicable only by others who are almost-equally special, (4) obsessive need for attention and admiration, (5) powerful sense of entitlement, (6) instrumental attitude toward human relations (using others, or taking advantage of them), (7) low index of felt-empathy (feigned empathy is in the repertoire of manipulation), (8) feels excessive envy and suspects envy of others for him/herself, and (9) displays of arrogance... there are a few others. Psychiatry says that any five of these suggests NPD.
Not only are these characteristics not abnormal in Suburbia - or even the general American culture - they are cultivated as norms by our ideology of social Darwinism, and ceaselessly reinforced by commoditized culture through brand-name status competition, advertising, and the cultural norms of the gender hierarchy (masculinity and femininity).
Another aspect of NPD, that is also intrinsic to American Suburbia's worldview, is a hair-trigger perception of victimization. This is the twin of a sense of entitlement.
This is the most dangerous aspect of the Suburban character. Within the intellectual barricades of middle-class belief in their own meritocracy, any challenge to the myth that Suburbia is a social outcome of (natural) Market TM forces is conflated with the Dark World vestiges of propaganda from the Cold War, from the Negro threat, and now from "terrorism" and the demographic attack of the "illegal immigrants."
The suburban populism that Lassiter describes - which emerged as a struggle to prevent school integration by busing - adopted the color-blind language of Dr. Kings speech on "the content of their character," and reiterated their claim that their rights were being violated... the spatial segregation of suburb and ghetto was rewritten as class, not race, in order to provide Suburbia what Lassiter calls "color blind racial innocence."
In the same move, Suburbia flipped the script on the Civil Rights movement, and claimed oppressed status at the hands of the federal courts (beginning with Brown v Board of Education). This epistemological theft was facilitated by the Fourth Circuit's reversal-on-appeal of Bradley v. Richmond, wherein the real history of urban renewal, zoning, districting, and transportation policy and planning - which were the de jure instruments of re-segregation - were erased from juridical memory.
STAN GOFF is the author of Hideous Dream, Full Spectrum Disorder, The Military In The New American Century, and Sex And War. He also manages his Feral Scholar website and is familiar to many Truth To Power Readers as a result of his monumental series published at From The Wilderness on the death of Pat Tillman--a series to which many attribute Congressional investigation of that event.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

DEVELOPMENT AND THE LEFT-Article by Aditya Sacrcar

Tuesday, 13 November, 2007

Nandigram and the Deformations of the Indian Left

Source
http://randomscribbler.blogspot.com/2007/07/heres-piece-by-me-that-appeared-in-last.html

The Battle Lines

By ADITYA SARKAR

On 14 March this year, the state government of West Bengal, headed by the Communist Party of India (Marxist) sent several thousand police troops into the rural district of Nandigram in East Midnapur, the scene of a three-month old movement by peasants against the establishment of a Special Economic Zone on their land. The land in question was to be turned over the Indonesian-based Salim group[1] for the establishment of a multi-purpose SEZ comprising chemical and pharmaceutical units, shipbuilding, and real estate. Over 19,000 acres of peasant land in its various forms – cropped land, homestead, schools, mosques and temples – were to be acquired. Peasant resistance ushered in the New Year – at the beginning of January, villagers began digging up and barricading roads, blocking the entry of the police and generally of the state and party apparatus into their land. Clashes between party cadres and villagers broke out several times between January and March, culminating in the decision of the Chief Minister, Buddhadeb Bhattacharya, to send in the police on March 14. Whether the Left Front government actually orchestrated the massacre of villagers (official estimates tolled 14 dead, the unofficial count ran into hundreds) or not, it certainly stood by and watched while policemen, CPI(M) cadres, and cadres disguised as policemen ran amok among the villagers, in an orgy of killing, torture and rape. Since March, Nandigram has witnessed further confrontations between party and peasants, the fraying of the livelihoods and networks that held the local economy together, and the slow strangulation of protest by the state government.

Nandigram exposed the horrific possibilities at the heart of the Bengal Left’s embrace of global, ‘neo-liberal’ capital, but this was not unprecedented. The uprising and repression in Nandigram had been foreshadowed at Singur, one of the most fertile and prosperous tracts of agricultural land in the state and in the country. Here the West Bengal government had turned over a thousand acres of cultivated land to the Tatas, India’s biggest industrial house, for the establishment of a motor factory, a takeover that entailed the loss of over 20,000 livelihoods. This had galvanized a movement that had its roots in the villages of Singur, but also sparked off solidarity campaigns in Calcutta, attempts by the chief opposition party, the Trinamul Congress, to climb aboard the bandwagon, initiatives by far-left Naxalite groupings, and protests by left-leaning cultural activists and intellectuals across the country, disgusted by the prolonged deformations of a party and government many of them had once identified with. Singur brought the issue of Special Economic Zones, with their conjoined logics of mass displacement, the right of companies to administer their territory largely independently of state law, the abrogation of constitutionally guaranteed labour rights, and the violation of environmental standards, to the forefront of national politics. During and after the mayhem at Nandigram, these themes were repeated and amplified, and the battle continues.

The paradox of an apparently left-wing administration embracing the most brutal and intrusive contemporary regime of global capitalist expansion threw into relief the antagonism between India’s chosen path of economic development and the livelihoods and aspirations of the majority of its citizens. But this tension was not, it hardly needs to be said, new in itself. SEZs are the flashpoint of this tension, but not its only expression, since land can be grabbed for many purposes – real estate hubs, factories, townships – that may or may not take the form of SEZs. Land grabs have been the source of major confrontations and struggles between local communities, big business and the state in Jharkhand, in Orissa, in Punjab, in Maharashtra, in Gurgaon, in Gujarat, and various other places. Nandigram and Singur, however, catapulted the issue into the national media, and produced a range of publicly visible protest initiatives.

The most important sites of resistance to state-sponsored corporate invasions, though, remain the land and people affected by them. At Kalinganagar in Orissa, where a bauxite plant is planned, fierce resistance continues despite the charming decision of the national government to install anti-personnel landmines against the incursions of resisting tribals. (India, in keeping with its general attitude towards global human rights regulation, is not a signatory to international anti-landmine agreements). At Jagatsinghpur, also in Orissa, the South Korean steel company POSCO has been allotted land for an SEZ, and here the local resistance has taken the form of kidnappings of company officials, who are unharmed but held captive in order to induce the government to take account of the demands of those affected by the project. In Jharkhand, dozens of SEZ projects hang in the balance, unable to get off the ground because of fierce mobilizations against them. At Singur, where the controversy first erupted, villagers still regularly breach the wall separating them from the Tata factory site, despite the heavy presence of punitive state mechanisms. At Haripur, not far from Nandigram, the central government had planned a nuclear power plant. Here, as at Nandigram, local inhabitants have blockaded their villages off from the entry of the state and the police, and set up something akin to an autonomous zone.

The pattern is obvious: in each case, powerful companies and a mammoth state apparatus have negotiated agreements on massive land grabs, but in each case actual construction work has been indefinitely stalled by the strength of local mobilizations. In this sense, the expansion of neo-liberal capitalism in India has finally hit a genuine road-block, and confronts, in its own way, as intense a crisis as the populations affected by its projects do. Given the utter lack of consent, the state and the companies involved have at present only two options. First, to back off entirely. Second, to violently repress resistance. The first option jeopardizes investor confidence, the kickbacks doubtless enjoyed from these agreements by implicated ministers and bureaucrats, and, in more general terms, the future of the strategy of unmandated land acquisition. The second option produces instant crisis, as at Nandigram, where, despite the scale of state and party brutality and the annihilation of an entire local economy, the CPI(M) has been forced to suspend, for the moment, the planned SEZ. In a way, this clear ‘no’ sent out to current economic policy in India parallels the resistance to NAFTA and FTAA in Latin America, though perhaps without the depth of ideological ferment visible in the latter instance. In both cases, the dominant trajectory of capitalist growth has run up against the obstacle of utter, uncompromising popular refusal, and the political actualization of this refusal in acts of resistance. The cosy myth of a consensus around a particular model of economic growth, apparently ‘value-neutral’ but actually deeply ideologically constituted, has been shattered. Nationally and globally, this is a crucial moment in the history of capital.

The new battle lines that are beginning to take shape around land acquisition in India cross and blur the antagonisms of official party politics. Increasingly, the major political formations in India seem united over the legitimacy both of the currently hegemonic national economic policy, and of state repression to enforce this policy. West Bengal, a state run by the organized Left, is at the helm of the SEZ drive. In Maharashtra, the Congress is in charge of actualizing comparably brutal drives of local displacement for the establishment of these zones. In Orissa, a coalition of the Biju Janata Dal and the BJP, India’s major right-wing formation, have been administering, with the aid of the Army, a similar assault upon tribal communities for the purposes of land acquisition, an assault that puts even Bengal in the shade. In Gujarat and Jharkhand, the state-level BJP administrations are the initiators and executors of this drive. In each of these cases, land is acquired for the purposes of corporate takeover without any consultation of local populations and their representative institutions, let alone any democratic mandate for this policy. This is at the heart of the new consensus – the takeover of land that sustains thousands of people, and its transfer to companies that are accountable only to their shareholders, is presented as a fait accompli, something the state has the right to do, regardless of the wishes not only of local populations, but also of their democratically elected local representative bodies, the panchayats, gram sabhas, and district committees. In this matter, the divisions between Left, Right, and centre, real and bitter as they are in other arenas of national politics, have virtually ceased to matter. Conversely, the opposition to this does not run along the lines of party politics either. The CPI(M)’s propaganda machines have been working overtime to convince us that the resistance to the Nandigram and Singur land grabs were machinations of the Trinamul Congress, on the one hand, and the revolutionary left-wing Naxalites, on the other. Nothing could be further from the truth: the uprisings in these places stemmed from the extremely rational desire of local agrarian populations to hold on to their land, and the resistance organized by them cut across party lines, and in Nandigram consisted overwhelmingly of people who had been supporters or even members of the CPI(M).

The real battle being fought here, then, is not principally between rival ideologies, between capitalism and socialism or between Left and Right, though of course we can and usually do assign ‘left-wing’ and ‘right-wing’ valences to the objective positions taken up in this struggle. It is, rather, a direct confrontation between democracy and capital, which are increasingly incommensurate with one another. If democratic accountability is to be taken seriously by those who govern, the policy of corporate land acquisition cannot be conceived of as an inevitable outcome, a matter for policy makers and administrators to formulate and implement as a matter of right: it must, since it entails the disruption of mammoth numbers of lives and livelihoods, pass through established democratic structures and channels, and secure a mandate. But this is plainly impossible, given the consequences such policies have for the people they affect. If this form of capitalist penetration runs up against the road-block of absolute refusal, as it has done, then pushing it through, on the part of the state, necessarily involves the curtailment of democratic procedures and entitlements. But the use of coercion to push such an agenda through invites further, and increasingly more militant, forms of resistance, and the impasse, far from being resolved, grows. Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold.

Losing the Left

For most people in West Bengal, the spectacle of the organized Left’s recourse to bloody massacre and authoritarian repression is nothing new. The CPI(M) in this state wins election after election, partly on the strength of land reforms it undertook in the 1980s (and is now abandoning), but also partly on the strength of sustained electoral rigging and intimidation. It cushions corrupt and venal bureaucracies, a trade union culture stripped of its once legendary vitality by utter subservience to party dictates, a politics of patronage and nepotism at all levels, and, across vast parts of the countryside, local networks of party authority that function as armed fiefdoms, with their local bosses. Lakshman Seth, the CPI(M) MP from Tamluk, the constituency in which Nandigram is located, and in many ways the architect of the March 14 massacre, is only one of many cases in point. Thirty years of unbroken Left Front power prove that absolute power corrupts absolutely, and while many on the global Left celebrate the CPI(M)’s achievement as an example of democratically mandated Communist success, they would do well to remember that they speak of a state-level administration that subverts democracy at every point, and is in the process of reinventing itself as a party driven by corporate interests and the aspirations of the upper middle class. The enormous leeway given to real estate speculation[2], the abysmal state of primary education and health services, and the eagerness with which the government has embraced global capital, are all indicators of this. A poster at a recent demonstration against the massacre gave us an effective, if hysteric, evaluation of the West Bengal government – ‘CPI(M) = Capitalist Party of India (Murderer)’.

This is an evaluation that many on the far Left in India would extend to the organized Left in toto, not only as it operates in West Bengal but also in its larger dimension as a not insignificant force in national politics. They would point out, with truth and reason on their side, that there is a long history of violence, intimidation, and bullying here – that the official Communist movement in India has both blood and compromise on its hands. They would point out, unassailably, that the Party has never repudiated Stalinism – indeed, its annual conferences still contain accolades to the Soviet Union that sound like 1956 never happened. They would point out that the Left Front government in West Bengal was party to the massacre of Bangladeshi settlers in the Sunderbans in 1979, and also that Jyoti Basu, chief minister of the state from 1977 to the end of the twentieth century, superintended the brutal eviction of hawkers (‘Operation Sunshine’) from the pavements of Calcutta in 1994 to make the city look pretty for John Major’s visit. They would point to the organized Left’s assaults upon revolutionary Naxalite and Maoist groups in West Bengal, and perhaps also claim that these latter formations represent the only true, authentic face of left-wing politics in India.

For its part, the CPI(M), nationally, has done more than its fair share of work in giving weight to these accusations. The central party leadership lied through its teeth while citing figures of consensual land acquisition in Singur and Nandigram, it has consistently refused to issue a condemnation of the West Bengal state unit’s repression of popular protest, it has refused to acknowledge the resistance to the SEZ as anything but a conjuration of its political rivals, and it has, unforgivably, done absolutely nothing to restrain the excesses and brutalities of party cadres in Nandigram, which continue today, three months after the massacre, as a matter of course. A large part of this has to do with the nature of political compulsions on the organized Left – the Party is utterly dependent on the units in West Bengal and Kerala, the only major states where it is powerful, for its clout in national politics, and indeed for its continued existence as a serious force. In effect, whatever the compulsions that drive the central leadership’s endorsement, this constitutes a break, perhaps irrevocable, with radical and progressive politics, and more generally with anticapitalism.

At this conjuncture in Indian politics, these failures and betrayals are fatal. There are social movements across the country, most of which share left-wing values and perspectives, that have organized bravely against big dams, corporate takeovers of land, the exploitation of labouring people, the ecological consequences of industrial capitalism, and the continuing erosion and marginalization of the livelihoods of millions as a result of national economic policies. Till Nandigram happened, it was possible for the Left to share a common platform with these movements, as for instance during the World Social Forum and its offshoot, the Indian Social Forum. After Nandigram, it is difficult to see where this shared space is. The organized Left, it is true, has taken up significant issues in Parliament: for instance, in its protests against airline privatization and pension reform. It is true, though also bitter and ironical, that it was this Left that provided a public space for arguments against the course of national economic policy, and in particular – here the ironies grow hideous – the establishment of SEZs. Countless numbers of party loyalists have been shaken to the core by the events in West Bengal, and there are major inner-party struggles within the CPI(M). In Kerala, the Communist Chief Minister, V.S. Achyutanandan, follows a policy trajectory radically at odds with his counterpart in West Bengal (though there have been significant moves within his state unit to oust him and move rightwards). But the dogma of party line, the compulsions of loyalty towards comrades (however erring) and the need not to break rank hold back these tensions, and refuse them meaningful public space. Officially, the CPI(M) is opposed to the current economic policy of the Indian Government, and the track it has been on for over a decade. Equally officially, the CPI(M) nationally endorses the policies and chosen trajectory of its West Bengal unit. These are irreconcilable positions. Perhaps these are dialectical contradictions that will be resolved through some miraculous Aufhebung. But if we are reduced to praying for magic to save the organized Indian Left from itself, we must at least acknowledge how grim things are.

So at a time when the struggles against global capitalism in India are more urgent and relevant than they have ever been, the Left has apparently deserted the battleground. At any rate, after Nandigram the CPI(M) has lost any claim it had upon the trust of movements and mobilizations that actually do the work of resisting the invasions of capital. But it would be a serious mistake to see this, as many on the far Left do, as something inevitably written into the script of the organized Left decades ago, or to see these betrayals as anything but tragic. The official Left in India, for all its Stalinism and all its compromises and blunders, was historically at the forefront of massive mobilizations of workers and peasants, and nowhere more powerfully than in West Bengal, where generations of Communists worked tirelessly for the rights of workers, sharecroppers and poor peasants, and against brutal social inequalities. This was a Left whose power, both in West Bengal and Kerala, was founded on its responsiveness to agrarian discontent, its ability to mobilize politically around it, and its responsibility in leading land and labour struggles. This was the Left that led one of the largest labour movements in history, in Bombay; this was the Left that organized incredibly important peasant movements in Bengal and Telengana in the 40s and 50s; this was the Left that put India’s most progressive land reforms into place in the states it governed. If this Left has been lost, then mourning, rather than celebration or vindication, is the response most appropriate to left-minded people.

More may have been lost, however, than a legacy and a memory of historic struggles, which were fought, after all, by other – and better – men and women, in other times. There is and has been, after all, an active – though far from powerful – official Left outside its regional centres of accumulated power. In Delhi and across North India, in large parts of the south, in Maharashtra, and in various other parts of the country, organizations of women, teachers, students, workers, and social activists affiliated to or allied with the CPI(M) have worked, and continue to work, against the kinds of policies that drive the poor and the marginalized to the wall and embed social injustice within the governing political ethic. As a left-wing student who grew up in Delhi, I have always experienced the official Left, in meetings, in campaigns, and on demonstrations, as a space one could turn to for succour and comfort, for political solidarity, despite the frustrations and differences one may have had with the official line of the Party. The mobilizations against the Hindu Right at the time of BJP rule, mobilizations which many of us either supported or took part in, would have been unthinkable without the presence – indeed, the protective umbrella – of the organized Left. I believe this is also the relationship that many of India’s most serious social movements – the Narmada Bachao Andolan, for instance – have had with the Left: a relationship of simultaneous irritation and gratitude, disappointment and solidarity. At any rate, a shared space used to exist. That may have disappeared after Nandigram, as the political paths of a party that calls itself left-wing, and movements that follow some of the best values of the Left, increasingly diverge, and traverse antagonistic paths. Medha Patkar, India’s most important social activist and arguably the leader of the global movement against big dams, was the most prominent public face of the protests around Nandigram. This is symptomatic of the necessary but deeply tragic constellation of oppositions and fissures within progressive circles after the massacre.

The Tensions of Resistance

The Left’s greatest failure of imagination and nerve comes at a time when the battle against neoliberal capitalism in India is intensely alive and vocal. To make the difficult, but necessary, choice against India’s present economic policies, would have involved more than the airing of platitudes in Parliament and party mouthpieces; it would have involved the serious, responsible attempt to construct alternative paths of development, based on ecological sustainability and social justice. It would have involved the prioritization of human welfare over profit, the deepening of democratic participation as a bulwark against capital, and the formulation of innovative and dynamic models of socio-economic growth and redistribution. This was the choice the organized Left in India failed to make, and Nandigram, horrifically, metamorphosed that failure into an unpardonable crime. But the loss of the organized Left throws the choices and pitfalls of the resistance to global capitalism actually happening in India into sharp relief. It is necessary, then, to briefly consider the forms of this emergent resistance.

First, and most importantly, there are the resistance movements launched from the grassroots, involving those affected directly by the contemporary Indian model of capitalism. The corporate takeover of basic human and natural resources produces, at each step, more or less complete refusal on the part of the local communities who stand to lose. This refusal may or may not crystallize into powerfully organized resistance. Over the issue of land grabs for SEZs, it seems, more often than not, that it does. Political parties and outfits may or may not join in the resistance. If they do, it ensures a certain amount of headline-grabbing mileage for the movements in question, important in itself. But even where the resistance is much less related to party political divisions, as it is in most cases, the threat experienced by communities from the state and from capital produces, inevitably, its own strategies of mobilization and organization, its own internal structures of solidarity and dissent, its own debates and ferment. At Singur, at Nandigram, at Haripur, at Kalinganagar and Jagatsinghpur, and in Maharashtra and Punjab, the immediate, automatic act of refusal has been clarified into structures of resistance, through the formation of committees, the election of representatives, the planning of short-term and long-term strategy. These structural solidifications of resistance, however, need to be situated in their immediate social contexts, which often enough have the shape of deeply divided and hierarchical local community relations, fissured by class, caste and gender. Does the process of resistance to corporate projects, and the partial unity it necessarily engenders, disturb older and deep-rooted patterns of local injustice and exploitation? The answer is still open and unresolved. The incredibly vocal and militant participation of Nandigram’s women in the resistance points in one direction, but the persistence of certain caste divisions and the reluctance of some of the lowest groups in the caste hierarchies to join the movement in Singur points in another. There is no automatic logic that weds the opposition to big capital to a ‘progressive’ political consciousness that calls all sources of injustice and hierarchy into question. But equally, there is no guarantee, in a time of uprising, ferment, and the need to create a consensus around resistance, the existing social orders will maintain their stability and not undergo a process of internal churning. The question that time alone will answer is this: what forms of political consciousness, what attempts to link the immediate struggle to wider and related socio-political tensions, will the experience of resistance produce?

Second, there has been, since Singur and Nandigram, an efflorescence of largely uncoordinated citizens’ initiatives, loosely seen in terms of ‘civil society’. The sudden outburst of protest in Calcutta in the wake of the West Bengal government’s land acquisition policies exemplifies this. Calcutta, a city that for decades has seen virtually no serious progressive oppositional politics, and where the staleness of both the ruling administration and the official opposition (the Trinamul Congress) has produced a crippling sense of cynicism and jadedness, woke up to a frenzy of mobilization and activism that testified both to the residual strength of Bengali nationalism and a deeply entrenched left-wing structure of feeling, a sympathy for the disprivileged that, ironically, the organized Left had in earlier times done much to produce and disseminate. Students’ associations organized protest and relief campaigns, medical teams who visited Nandigram galvanized a sense of active disgust among doctors and nurses, who took to the streets in large numbers, and associations of lawyers, journalists, and artists also joined in the campaigns of solidarity with the resistance. Similar initiatives were set in motion in Delhi, and the symbolic effect of protests in the capital city were, as always, in excess of their immediate practical value – they helped force the issue of land grabs into national media headlines. These citizens’ mobilizations are enormously important, for, while the real battle continues to be fought in villages, tribal belts and local communities affected by the takeover of their land, publicly visible manifestations of solidarity in high-profile metropolitan spaces help sustain the mood of opposition and demonstrate the mythic nature of the neo-liberal policy ‘consensus’. On the other hand, many of these campaigns emanate from an immediate feeling of disgust and betrayal, and it remains to be seen whether they will be able to reproduce the resilience of committed activism, through coordination and organization, over a sustained period of time.

Third, there are the social movements that have been campaigning for social justice and ecological sustainability. Many of these – the campaign against the Narmada dam, the fishworkers’ movement in Madurai, various organizations working for the rights of Dalit, women’s groups, and associations set up to fight for unorganized labour – are clustered under the umbrella of the National Alliance of People’s Movements (NAPM), which held a month-long protest sit-in in central Delhi shortly after Nandigram. These are groups that vary immensely in size and importance, but demonstrate the range and plurality of progressive initiatives in India. Most of them have no direct links with any political parties, though some of them are on good terms with the movements of the far Left, and others have worked closely with state administrations where they’ve been responsive. There is a continuum between some of the more progressive NGOs and these organizations: the lines often blur, but the tensions between social-welfarist drives and more radical, political forms of mobilization are felt at various levels. SEZs are an issue that a range of social movements and initiatives can unite around, and there are encouraging signs of this unity being forged. But it is too early to say whether these organizations can produce a plausible challenge to the agenda of the Indian state and big business, and whether these largely single-issue campaigns can coalesce around a coherent political platform that seriously disturbs the governing consensus.

Finally, there is the revolutionary far Left, in its various factions and forms. To many, the Naxalites and Maoists represent the authentic vanguard of popular resistance, as the only politically organized and ideologically coherent movements that are genuinely committed simultaneously to fighting against big capital, and to mounting a radical offensive against the state. But this is far too roseate a picture. The far-left in India is a patchwork of deeply divided organizations, all loosely committed to the legitimacy of armed resistance to the state, but some more open to the question of parliamentary participation than others. One of the most disturbing features of their history has been their unwillingness to rethink the need for armed revolutionary violence of the most savage sort. In the context of prolonged state repression of an order of savagery that far exceeds their own, the decision to keep the option of armed resistance open is in a sense understandable. In Nandigram, the counter-violence of villagers against the CPI(M) was clearly produced by a sense that it was either kill or be killed: in such a situation, it is not easy to stand back and pre-judge ‘Naxal’ strategies of resistance. It is possible, however, to ask whether such violence, which breeds its own vicious-cyclical logic, can actually be politically productive. In various parts of India – Bihar, Chattisgarh, and Andhra Pradesh, for instance – the cycle of state repression, exploitation by big landholders, and revolutionary violence has bred situations where we are often left with little more than the machinations, brutality, and terror wreaked by rival mafias. This is not the only form of ‘resistance’ practised by far-left outfits, but it would be fair to say that it has been a dominant trajectory, ever since the tragic foundational episode of Naxalbari, where revolutionary left-wing idealism soon gave way to internecine warfare and bloodshed. Those who celebrate the revolutionary drive of the Maoists and Naxalites against the corruption and degeneration of the organized Left tend to forget something very important. For the longest period of its existence, this organized Left occupied the very ground that the ‘far’ Left does today: it took up issues of deprivation and injustice at levels where none of the mainstream political formations had anything to say, and it drew its legitimacy from that. It was always crippled by its internal authoritarianism, by the blind dogmas of party line, and by its slavishness to the shifts and turns of Soviet policy. But the revolutionary Left today, for all its principled opposition to capital, is usually equally authoritarian in its internal structures (equally committed to ‘democratic centralism’), equally defined by party line, and as blindly worshipful of Mao as Communists used to be of Stalin.

It is difficult to see a progressive and genuinely democratic left-wing politics emerging from such locations, though the real and often heroic resistance offered to capital and the state by many far-left groupings should not be undermined. It is also true that the ‘far’ Left is a complex animal, not only divided into a range of legitimate or underground parties split over tactics, strategies and ideology, but also spread across other spaces – civil and democratic rights campaigns, citizens’ mobilizations against state terror, independent radical trade unions, and social movements of various kinds, where one can usually find both conservative and revolutionary factions. One is left, once again, to hope for internal transformations, or for the emergence within the far Left of strands that valorize not only revolutionary zeal and consistency, but also work towards achieving cross-regional, democratic mandates for their politics. This would, however, mean eschewing both the violent excesses and the righteous vanguardism that permeates so much of their politics today.

It is, in the final analysis, the question of democratic mandate that defines most sharply the dilemmas confronting the resistance to corporate capital in India today. The state, for all practical purposes, is accountable only to itself. The ‘legitimate’ political parties, from Left to Right, are rapidly coming to share a neo-liberal consensus with no foundations in popular consent, and are accountable, increasingly, only to top-down structures of leadership. The corporate companies who have staked out such a powerful claim to the land and the resources of the country are accountable, of course, only to their shareholders. And the various movements and mobilizations that have risen to resist them are accountable mainly to their adherents, and have not been able to formulate a coherent politics that can be called into question democratically: if this is true of the Naxalites, it is also true of the far less ethically problematic rainbow coalition of social movements, which usually organize around limited issues, and have trouble widening their horizons into a politics that can command generalized consent, and establish a real hegemony.

It is here that the loss of the ‘organized’ Left pinches most sharply, for it means the loss of a space, however limited, of constitutionally protected and ‘legitimate’ political opposition, forced to justify its tactics and practices by appealing to more than either revolutionary purism or vague moods of discontent. This is the impasse in which the opposition between capital and progressive resistance finds itself today. There is no democratically accountable location within the ‘legitimate’ political spectrum from which attacks upon the embrace of state and capital, with its disastrous consequences for the whole country, can be mounted. At the same time, the discontent with the chosen paths of national development has never been more sharply pronounced and more visible than it is today, and this has produced a rich harvest of oppositional mobilizations, engaged in the search for a definite political space to anchor themselves to. It is the kind of situation where one finds oneself feeling that something has to give. India is crying out for a real democratic Left, stripped of old dogmas, and able to face up to its role with responsibility, accountability and humility. For that, however, significantly new forms of political radicalism and left-wing practice, a break from the dead past and the stifling present, are needed. Perhaps the clamour of democratic protest in the wake of Nandigram signals a new beginning, a signal towards new directions. Perhaps global capital and the powers of the state simply remain too strong, too resilient, to allow a dent to be made. It is a moment of political impasse that we live through at present, even as tensions mount and boil and break to the surface of our times.




[1] Mohammed Salim, the Indonesian businessman to whom the land in Nandigram was to be turned over, helped bankroll Suharto’s genocide of Indonesian Communists. The Communist-led government of West Bengal is eager to do business with him. If ever proof was needed of the irony of the current conjuncture of the Indian Left, or of the way capital swallows up and transcends ideological animosities in its expansionary drives, it is here.
[2] Real estate is at the heart of the new model of development in various parts of India. The township of New Rajarhat in Calcutta, a recently constructed urban space that was built upon the displacement of an agrarian community, is a testament to the physical excision of poor and underprivileged communities for the establishment of luxury apartments, malls and enclaves of leisure, residence and work for the upper middle classes. This logic permeates urban planning in most of India’s major metropolitan cities, most visibly in Bombay, and in Gurgaon near Delhi.

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always want to defend peace, justice, peoples' right to love each other and live with dignity,struggles against parochial visions and hatred;instinctively a defender of socialist and democratic values  

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