Not since Prime Minister Indira Gandhi’s infamous Emergency rule, back in the
mid-1970s, has Indian democracy been under such severe stress.
Since the resounding re-election of Prime Minister
Modi and the BJP, India has been roiled by a number
of events that have effectively overturned decades-old
policy, practice, or simply existing reality, related to its
citizens, its largest minority community, Muslims, and
to democracy itself.
Very soon after re-election in 2019, the constitutional
special status of Kashmir under Article 370,
giving Kashmiris wide-ranging rights and privileges in
the state from property ownership to jobs, was revoked.
The autonomy that article 370 guaranteed to Kashmiris
has long been unpopular with the majority in India.
It was part of the BJP’s 2019 re-election manifesto, and
the election mandate allowed moving forward on it.
At the time, I wrote that although the move had far-ranging
support with the Indian public, what was
surprising to me was the general quiescence in the
face of the way in which the deed was done. I noted
that the operation included the preemptive closure of
normal life in Kashmir—schools, colleges, tourist sites,
businesses; the steady increase of troops in the region,
to the tune of hundreds of thousands; the blanket of
silence that pervaded through the blocking of all phone
and internet service; and the arrest of hundreds of
former and current state legislators including former
Chief Ministers. Yet, the majority of Indians appeared
to be ok with this.
In November 2019, a second momentous event occurred.
India’s Supreme Court weighed in with finality
on the Babri Masjid issue, clearing the way for a temple
to be built on the site of the demolished 16th century
mosque. The decision carefully stipulated some land
ownership for all three groups represented in the case,
and did not delve deeply into the controversy itself
about whether temple or mosque existed before the
other. Again, many supported, others celebrated, and
Muslim leadership and citizenry accepted.
Then, in December, the Citizenship Amendment
Act (CAA) was passed, which proposed to benefit a number
of religious and historically religiously-persecuted
minorities, including Hindus, Sikhs, Christians, Jains,
and others from three neighboring countries, Bangladesh,
Pakistan, and Afghanistan. If these refugees had
fled to India prior to 2015, they could seek citizenship.
However, the act left out Muslims from protection, ostensibly
because it was presumed that Muslims would
not bear the brunt of oppression in Muslim-majority
and/or sharia-law practicing countries. In tandem, a
proposed National Register of Citizens (NRC), piloted
years ago in the state of Assam, would be expanded
throughout India. Everyone residing in India would
provide documents that would establish their Indian
citizenship. The refugees protected by CAA could be
added to this registry. But if you were an Indian citizen,
and especially a Muslim, without the requisite papers,
you could be out of luck.
With the enactment of this law, something
seems to have changed in India. Those who had been
accepting and quiescent as rapid changes to long-established
laws and norms were enacted, now started
taking to the streets in protest. This law was seen
to discriminate potentially against a large swathe of
Indian citizens who did not have papers, including the
poor and minorities who may not have had access to
the requisite documentation and had been living their
lives in a country they never realized would ask them
for proof of their existence. Demonstrators called it
unconstitutional, in contravention of article 14 which
guarantees equality to all Indians.
Protests broke out through the length and breadth
of India, and ignited the participation of students
and youth, many of whom quoted the constitution in
opposing both the CAA and the NRC. There were
riots between police and demonstrators at many of the
venues, including at national universities, and many
were injured in the violence that ensued. Hundreds
have been arrested and dozens have died.
Protests have also spread to countries of the Indian
diaspora. I was surprised to see, while passing the
famed (to all Atlanta Indian Americans) Patel Plaza in
Decatur a few weeks ago, over a hundred protestors.
Indians in alliance with Americans of different ethnic
groups, marched carrying anti-CAA signs. Passersby
honked in solidarity. Granted that many of the honkers
may not have known the nature of the protest, but its
existence underlines that Indians and diasporic Indians
are taking the CAA/NRC seriously and see them as
a threat not just to those they leave out, but potentially
to all Indians, and eventually the constitution and the
state itself. There is a dawning sense of “and then they
came for me.” The tide may be turning.
Tinaz Pavri is Professor of Political Science and Director of the Asian Studies Program at Spelman College, Atlanta. A recipient of the Donald Wells Award from the Georgia Political Science Association, she’s the author of the memoir Bombay in the Age of Disco: City, Community, Life.