Christians
and Muslims have been persecuted at the hands of Hindu nationalists associated
with the ruling BJP party. But, according to one recent visitor, the tide could
be turning
The small wooden
figure of St George looks like an Asian warrior, with a lotus flower on his
head instead of a helmet. His saddle is clearly made for an elephant, not a
horse. The statue of the saint slaying the dragon and rescuing the princess is
displayed in a glass case at the Syro-Malabar Church museum in Kochi, or
Cochin, the great trading city on the coast of the southern Indian state of
Kerala.
This statue demonstrates that it would be wrong to describe Christianity in India as simply the result of Portuguese, French or British colonialism. The museum’s curator, Fr Ignatius Payyappilly, points out that the princess is recognisably local, saying: “She sits on her haunches, Indian fashion, her hands in the traditional ‘namaste’ position. And both she and St George have the long ears typical of Buddha images.”
Indian politics today is partly a battle about history. The silent message of the saint is important, given the growing concern among the country’s minorities about Hindutva, the ethno-religious political ideology that claims India as a “motherland” for Hindus and regards Islam and Christianity as alien elements in Indian society (Buddhism, born in Bodh Gaya in the Indian state of Bihar, is accepted, but it is regarded as a Hindu sect).
The Syro-Malabar Church, with 4 million members, is the largest of south-west India’s Churches, claiming descent from the mission efforts of the Apostle Thomas. It is one of the 23 Eastern Catholic Churches in communion with Rome. Whether Thomas actually arrived in India in AD 52 is disputable, but it is clear that Christianity was established on the Malabar coast at least as early as the sixth century. Then, it lived in cultural symbiosis with both Hinduism and Buddhism.
“This is what a Christian church looked like before the arrival of the Portuguese,” says Fr Ignatius, pointing to a model of a lovely red and white building that faintly resembles a Chinese pagoda. “The Portuguese thought they were Hindu temples and destroyed them.”
Over tea and apricots in his gleaming white Kochi residence, I discuss with Cardinal George Alencherry, the Syro-Malabar Archbishop, the situation of Christians in Kerala. They make up about 20 per cent of the population and both the Catholic and Protestant Churches are well established. The educational attainment of both men and women in Kerala is high, with literacy almost 100 per cent, but unemployment rates too are high. Many Keralans leave for other parts of India, while manual jobs in the state are increasingly filled with immigrants from poor north-eastern states such as Odisha and Bihar.
So far, the level of interreligious violence has been low in Kerala compared with other states, but, warns the cardinal, “there is an undercurrent of communal tension here too”. This is confirmed by a Lutheran pastor in Kerala’s capital city of Thiruvananthapuram (formerly Trivandrum), who told me of an incident a year ago when a pastor was beaten up by activists of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the main Hindutva movement.
There has been no major outbreak of communal violence in India since 2008 but there is a steady trickle of reports of local incidents. Many Christians feel that the general climate is one of watchfulness and insecurity, though many also speak of good local inter-communal relations. Much of the concern focuses on the RSS, estimated to have a couple of million members, and its affiliated organisations – trade unions, a student union, a women’s association – that make up the Sangh Parivar, the “Hindu family”, a grassroots network promoting a politicised version of Hindu identity. One aim is to dominate the public space.
A trigger of the pogroms against Christians in Odisha that began in December 2007 and continued for most of 2008 seems to have been the raising (with police permission) of a temporary Christmas arch across a village road. “Part of the background was the increased local presence of the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP), the RSS’ paramilitary wing,” says Professor Sebastian M. Michael SVD, sociologist, consultor to the Pontifical Council for Culture and ex-director of the Pune-based Institute of Indian Culture. “Many inhabitants of Odisha are tribals, who lost their lands to big mining companies in the nineteenth century. A Belgian missionary stood up for them and many converted to Christianity. Today, the aim of the RSS is to ‘sanscritise’ the tribals.”
In Bihar, India’s most populous state and one of its poorest, most people I speak to seem optimistic about containing Hindu extremism. “By the standards of India, the RSS is a small organisation. The majority of Hindus do not respond to the Hindutva rhetoric,” says Fr José Kalapura SJ, head of a social science institute in Bihar, who sees the mutual fear of different religious dominations as part of the Indian political scene. “Hindus feel that their religion and culture were despised during the colonial period,” he says. “And there is, despite an 80 per cent Hindu majority, a demographic fear that Muslims with their higher birth rates will eventually re-establish domination. On the other hand, Christians and Muslims fear persecution and absorption by the Hindu majority.”
The ideology of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and its leader, Prime Minister Narendra Modi, is inspired by Hindutva. The links between the BJP and the RSS are well known. Modi himself has an RSS background. Last November the BJP lost heavily in the parliamentary assembly elections in Bihar and some have seen the vote as a sign that Indian voters may be tiring of a communalist message. The outcome of elections in three further states – Kerala, Tamil Nadu and West Bengal, which took place this week – will show whether this mood endures.
So far, the BJP, whose base is in the prosperous north-west, particularly in Modi’s home state of Gujarat, has had difficulties establishing itself in the south and in the poor north-east. But the party clearly aims to succeed Congress as the dominating presence throughout India. Lately, the BJP has toned down the Hindutva cultural message in favour of an emphasis on market liberalism, economic growth and opportunities for India’s expanding middle class. Few would dispute the need to liberalise the bureaucracy-ridden economy, a process begun by Congress in the 1990s under Rajiv Gandhi. But poverty remains a significant factor in Indian politics. The BJP is seen by many as a party of rich industrialists and business people, without a social redistribution policy.
Critics point to the 0.5 per cent of the central government budget devoted to health and education, and to the poor social performance of the Gujarat state government during Modi’s premiership. Disappointment with broken promises to the poor may well have contributed to the BJP’s loss in Bihar. As one of the Catholic bishops has said: “Thirty-five per cent of India’s population lives below the poverty line. What is Modi’s message to them?”
The Hindutva movement stresses the unity of Hinduism across caste and sect boundaries. If India’s 80 per cent Hindus can be made to vote consistently en bloc for one party, this party could rule indefinitely. After all, Congress managed to hold power for several decades. But the landscape has changed dramatically in the past 25 years. Many smaller parties, including a Dalit party, now compete for power. Though they, too, are for the most part based on communal identities, either of caste or religion, they are seen by some as a counterforce to BJP hegemony. Compromises and alliances are needed and these smaller parties tend to dilute ideology.
Michael sees this as the way to counter Hindutva: “Hindutva is a strategy for the upper castes to continue their economic and political domination. But they are only 20 per cent of the population. The lower castes, the Shudras, are 52 per cent, the Dalits 15 per cent and the tribals 7 per cent. With broad alliances of all people of goodwill, based on the values of social justice and solidarity enshrined in the constitution, we can build democratic majorities. There is a strong anti-caste tradition in India we should build on.”
Ulla Gudmundson is a former Swedish ambassador to the Holy See (2008-13).
This statue demonstrates that it would be wrong to describe Christianity in India as simply the result of Portuguese, French or British colonialism. The museum’s curator, Fr Ignatius Payyappilly, points out that the princess is recognisably local, saying: “She sits on her haunches, Indian fashion, her hands in the traditional ‘namaste’ position. And both she and St George have the long ears typical of Buddha images.”
Indian politics today is partly a battle about history. The silent message of the saint is important, given the growing concern among the country’s minorities about Hindutva, the ethno-religious political ideology that claims India as a “motherland” for Hindus and regards Islam and Christianity as alien elements in Indian society (Buddhism, born in Bodh Gaya in the Indian state of Bihar, is accepted, but it is regarded as a Hindu sect).
The Syro-Malabar Church, with 4 million members, is the largest of south-west India’s Churches, claiming descent from the mission efforts of the Apostle Thomas. It is one of the 23 Eastern Catholic Churches in communion with Rome. Whether Thomas actually arrived in India in AD 52 is disputable, but it is clear that Christianity was established on the Malabar coast at least as early as the sixth century. Then, it lived in cultural symbiosis with both Hinduism and Buddhism.
“This is what a Christian church looked like before the arrival of the Portuguese,” says Fr Ignatius, pointing to a model of a lovely red and white building that faintly resembles a Chinese pagoda. “The Portuguese thought they were Hindu temples and destroyed them.”
Over tea and apricots in his gleaming white Kochi residence, I discuss with Cardinal George Alencherry, the Syro-Malabar Archbishop, the situation of Christians in Kerala. They make up about 20 per cent of the population and both the Catholic and Protestant Churches are well established. The educational attainment of both men and women in Kerala is high, with literacy almost 100 per cent, but unemployment rates too are high. Many Keralans leave for other parts of India, while manual jobs in the state are increasingly filled with immigrants from poor north-eastern states such as Odisha and Bihar.
So far, the level of interreligious violence has been low in Kerala compared with other states, but, warns the cardinal, “there is an undercurrent of communal tension here too”. This is confirmed by a Lutheran pastor in Kerala’s capital city of Thiruvananthapuram (formerly Trivandrum), who told me of an incident a year ago when a pastor was beaten up by activists of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the main Hindutva movement.
There has been no major outbreak of communal violence in India since 2008 but there is a steady trickle of reports of local incidents. Many Christians feel that the general climate is one of watchfulness and insecurity, though many also speak of good local inter-communal relations. Much of the concern focuses on the RSS, estimated to have a couple of million members, and its affiliated organisations – trade unions, a student union, a women’s association – that make up the Sangh Parivar, the “Hindu family”, a grassroots network promoting a politicised version of Hindu identity. One aim is to dominate the public space.
A trigger of the pogroms against Christians in Odisha that began in December 2007 and continued for most of 2008 seems to have been the raising (with police permission) of a temporary Christmas arch across a village road. “Part of the background was the increased local presence of the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP), the RSS’ paramilitary wing,” says Professor Sebastian M. Michael SVD, sociologist, consultor to the Pontifical Council for Culture and ex-director of the Pune-based Institute of Indian Culture. “Many inhabitants of Odisha are tribals, who lost their lands to big mining companies in the nineteenth century. A Belgian missionary stood up for them and many converted to Christianity. Today, the aim of the RSS is to ‘sanscritise’ the tribals.”
In Bihar, India’s most populous state and one of its poorest, most people I speak to seem optimistic about containing Hindu extremism. “By the standards of India, the RSS is a small organisation. The majority of Hindus do not respond to the Hindutva rhetoric,” says Fr José Kalapura SJ, head of a social science institute in Bihar, who sees the mutual fear of different religious dominations as part of the Indian political scene. “Hindus feel that their religion and culture were despised during the colonial period,” he says. “And there is, despite an 80 per cent Hindu majority, a demographic fear that Muslims with their higher birth rates will eventually re-establish domination. On the other hand, Christians and Muslims fear persecution and absorption by the Hindu majority.”
The ideology of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and its leader, Prime Minister Narendra Modi, is inspired by Hindutva. The links between the BJP and the RSS are well known. Modi himself has an RSS background. Last November the BJP lost heavily in the parliamentary assembly elections in Bihar and some have seen the vote as a sign that Indian voters may be tiring of a communalist message. The outcome of elections in three further states – Kerala, Tamil Nadu and West Bengal, which took place this week – will show whether this mood endures.
So far, the BJP, whose base is in the prosperous north-west, particularly in Modi’s home state of Gujarat, has had difficulties establishing itself in the south and in the poor north-east. But the party clearly aims to succeed Congress as the dominating presence throughout India. Lately, the BJP has toned down the Hindutva cultural message in favour of an emphasis on market liberalism, economic growth and opportunities for India’s expanding middle class. Few would dispute the need to liberalise the bureaucracy-ridden economy, a process begun by Congress in the 1990s under Rajiv Gandhi. But poverty remains a significant factor in Indian politics. The BJP is seen by many as a party of rich industrialists and business people, without a social redistribution policy.
Critics point to the 0.5 per cent of the central government budget devoted to health and education, and to the poor social performance of the Gujarat state government during Modi’s premiership. Disappointment with broken promises to the poor may well have contributed to the BJP’s loss in Bihar. As one of the Catholic bishops has said: “Thirty-five per cent of India’s population lives below the poverty line. What is Modi’s message to them?”
The Hindutva movement stresses the unity of Hinduism across caste and sect boundaries. If India’s 80 per cent Hindus can be made to vote consistently en bloc for one party, this party could rule indefinitely. After all, Congress managed to hold power for several decades. But the landscape has changed dramatically in the past 25 years. Many smaller parties, including a Dalit party, now compete for power. Though they, too, are for the most part based on communal identities, either of caste or religion, they are seen by some as a counterforce to BJP hegemony. Compromises and alliances are needed and these smaller parties tend to dilute ideology.
Michael sees this as the way to counter Hindutva: “Hindutva is a strategy for the upper castes to continue their economic and political domination. But they are only 20 per cent of the population. The lower castes, the Shudras, are 52 per cent, the Dalits 15 per cent and the tribals 7 per cent. With broad alliances of all people of goodwill, based on the values of social justice and solidarity enshrined in the constitution, we can build democratic majorities. There is a strong anti-caste tradition in India we should build on.”
Ulla Gudmundson is a former Swedish ambassador to the Holy See (2008-13).
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