Contents
A year on, Article 370 and
Kashmir mythmaking
A change that hit
federalism, inclusion
Profiteering during a
pandemic
A
year on, Article 370 and Kashmir mythmaking
The
August 5 decision has led to a state wherein the very basis of a potential step
of conflict resolution has been undone
R.V. MoorthyR_V_Moorthy
While the long-standing ideological commitment
of the Bharatiya Janata Party to undo Article 370 of the Indian Constitution is
why Jammu and Kashmir (J&K) was stripped of its special status as well as
Statehood making it a simmering cauldron of discontent, our collective
mythmaking about Kashmir is the deeper reason for what the former State has
become today.
Kashmir has been a favourite site of our
national mythmaking; myths that have over the years assumed larger-than-life
manifestations in our collective psyche. Kashmir has most things that popular
myths are made of: mesmerising beauty, cross-border terror, deep states and
their agents, war and heroism. Clearly, myths about Kashmir are not created by
the right wing alone but by successive Indian governments over several decades,
enthusiastically embellished by a vibrant, popular culture.
Demonising Kashmir
The most prominent among them is regarding the
ills of Articles 370 and 35A of the Indian Constitution. Home Minister Amit
Shah’s statements last year on the floor of Parliament that Article 370 was the
root cause of terrorism in Jammu and Kashmir is a widely accepted sentiment
notwithstanding the fact that there is little material basis to it — neither
was Article 370 responsible for terrorism in the Valley nor has its removal
ensured a reduction in terrorism. If anything, Article 370 continues to remain
very much a part of a solution to the Kashmir conundrum. The constitutional
provision is also held responsible for ruining J&K, stalling its development
and preventing proper health care and blocking industries. Once again, these
arguments lack merit and evidence.
J&K, as a matter of fact, has been doing
much better than most other Indian States and one of the reasons for this was
the land reforms carried out in the State in the early 1950s which was possible
precisely because of the presence of Article 370. For sure, the educational and
health sectors in J&K should be further improved (as should be in the rest
of the country), but the reason for the underperformance of the educational and
health sectors in Kashmir is not Article 370. While private enterprises could
set up industries in the former State on leased land, as they have over the
years, acquisition of land by public sector enterprises from outside the State
was never a problem. Private investors do not set up shop in Kashmir due to
militancy which is a product of an existing conflict; not because of Articles
370 or 35A. In any case, Articles 370 or 35A did not start the Kashmir
conflict; if anything, they played a role in containing it.
Funding truths
The oft-cited counter-argument is that if
J&K is doing better than the other Indian States, it is because of the
massive amounts of funds provided by New Delhi. That is the second myth. How
subsidised by New Delhi was J&K? Did ‘our’ taxpayer money actually go into
sustaining J&K’s relatively better position among the Indian States? Well
if it did, it would weaken the argument that ‘Kashmir needed to be developed’.
The argument is not that Kashmir did not
receive funding from New Delhi. It did, but not massive funds as it is often
made out to be. Economist and former State Finance Minister of J&K Haseeb
Drabu makes a distinction between funds that went to the J&K government and
those that went into economic development in the State. The J&K
government’s revenue deficit has traditionally been taken care of by New Delhi:
J&K, for historical reasons, has had a bloated bureaucracy in comparison to
other States and their salaries and pensions have been financed by the central
government. But that does precious little for the State’s economy or the
general population. Then there are routine transfers of funds from the Centre
to J&K just as transfers take place from New Delhi to other States.
Finally, J&K also received funds thanks to its status as a special category
State which again is a case with several other Indian States. Put differently,
J&K’s better performance in comparison to most other Indian States is at
least partly because of Article 370, and its well-being is not necessarily a
result of New Delhi’s economic packages.
Let us take the third myth about Kashmir, one
that is repeated by politicians and scholars alike: ‘Development can defeat
militancy and insurgency.’ Notwithstanding the fact that a cash-strapped
country such as ours has inherent limitations on how much development
assistance it can provide to J&K over other States, the reality may well be
that development may not lead to pacification of the conflict in Kashmir. The
Kashmir conflict is a function of complex historical grievances,
politico-ethnic demands, increasing religious radicalisation, and Pakistan’s
unrelenting interference in the Kashmir Valley. It would be simplistic to
imagine that such a multi-layered and complex conflict can be resolved by the
stroke of a pen effecting a constitutional change or providing an economic
package. A cursory reading of the vast literature on conflict resolution would
testify to that.
The deep impact
This overwhelming mythmaking on Kashmir has
had unfortunate implications on how we understand and treat Kashmir and
Kashmiris. The rare political unity in the rest of the country supporting the
August 5 decision, especially on Article 370, was a function of this
mythmaking. The popular cultural articulations about Kashmir and Kashmiris in
the media, films, music and other cultural representations have further
strengthened these myths. That “Kashmir needs to be reunited with the rest of
India” has been a powerful claim made by such representations and political articulations:
no matter Kashmir was easily India’s most securitised State with various
central institutions and agencies undermining not only what was left of Article
370 prior to August last year but also impeding the elected government’s power
in the former State.
Yet another popular perception about
‘Kashmiris as troublemakers and sympathisers of terror’ has led to a noticeable
increase in the mistreatment of Kashmiri Muslims in the rest of the country.
How little empathy exists in the country today towards the plight of the
Kashmiris (including mainstream politicians) is a direct outcome of such
mythmaking.
Hard realities
This mythmaking about Kashmir has today led us
to a situation wherein we have undone the very basis of a potential process of
conflict resolution in Kashmir. If indeed Article 370 was a stumbling block in
bringing Kashmir closer to the rest of India, a source of extremism and
separatism in the Kashmir Valley, and an avenue for Pakistan to gain a foothold
in the Valley, has the removal of the special status brought Kashmir closer to
India, reduced the sources of extremism and separatism, and undermined
Pakistani influence in the Valley? Most indicators of violence in Kashmir have
shown an uptick despite the double lockdown that Kashmir is under today.
Mainstream Kashmiri politicians today are as unhappy and disgruntled as the
separatist politicians and the restive youngsters in South Kashmir. And
Pakistan has left no stone unturned to aid and abet violence in the Valley. For
Rawalpindi, all bets are off on Kashmir. India’s national interest hardly
benefits from such a toxic situation.
New Delhi’s Kashmir policy today is caught
between a rock and a hard place: there is no indication that the path that it
chose in August 2019 would lead to peace and development in the Valley, nor can
it revert to pre-2019 August status quo which would be political suicide for
the BJP.
Happymon Jacob teaches national security at the School of
International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi
A
change that hit federalism, inclusion
The
idea that Article 370 weakened the Indian Union is erroneous and against basic
understanding of democracy
PTIPTI
Ever since Article 370 that broadly defined
Jammu and Kashmir’s relationship with the rest of India was upended and a new
framework introduced last year, political activity in the erstwhile State has
come to a complete halt.
In the last one year, the reorganisation of
the erstwhile State was defended on the ground that it would lead to greater
integration of J&K with the rest of the country. In a democracy, the
concept of integration has to be evaluated from a multi-faceted system and
lens, which includes the emotional aspect as well. And in that respect, sadly,
the effect on the ground of the cataclysmic change of August 5, 2019 has
yielded the opposite effect. J&K seems to be stuck in a morass.
First, the continued detention of political
prisoners, particularly those who have been legislators and sworn in by the
Constitution of India, shows that if democratic rights are not even available
to the voices that speak on behalf of the Indian Union — voices that were more
loyal than the king — how would ordinary people even think of enjoying them?
Incidentally, this change was introduced on August 5, which also happens to be
the birth date of arguably the foremost scholar (and activist) on J&K,
Balraj Puri; he passed away in 2014.
The two core ideas that he consistently
advocated were: peace would not ensue in J&K without guaranteeing respect
for the democratic rights for its people; to ensure that the most important
tool would be a rigorous pursuit of federalism within the State. Both of these
are particularly salient in the present context.
Key to integration
In his best-selling book, Kashmir Towards
Insurgency, published in the early 1990s, Balraj Puri presciently wrote that
there was a persistent policy of denying Kashmir a right to democracy;
one-party rule had been imposed on the State through manipulation of elections;
Opposition parties had been prevented from growing, and elementary civil
liberties and human rights had been refused to the people. “This refusal to
integrate Kashmir within the framework of Indian democracy has proved to be the
single greatest block to the process of Kashmir’s emotional and political
integration with the rest of India.” He repeatedly argued that the feeling of
hopelessness and a threat to identity exacerbated by a political vacuum create
a breeding ground for militancy. He emphasised that a prerequisite to
emotionally integrate Kashmir with the rest of India was to ensure that the
people of the State enjoy the same democratic rights and constitutional
protections as the people across the country.
Lessons of the last seven decades in J&K
are crystal clear. The more democratic rights we give to the people of J&K,
the more they feel a part of the Indian Union. The present phase of political
dormancy reminds me of the early 1990s when the Kashmir Valley was perpetually
under curfew. It was only after the channels of communications with everyone
were opened that the strength of India’s democracy was exhibited. It was also
realised that respect for human rights should be a key component of the Kashmir
policy, as this and upholding national interest go hand in hand. These lessons
were learnt the hard way with a lot of sacrifices, of lives, including those of
ordinary Kashmiris and security personnel.
Asymmetry and federalism
The last year should worry the entire country,
as the constitutional change was an attack on Indian federalism. The idea that
the presence of Article 370 weakened the Indian Union is erroneous and is
contrary to a basic understanding of democracy and lessons learnt from the
experiments of Indian federalism. J&K’s separate flag and Constitution
within the Indian Union represented asymmetry, which is integral to the Indian
federal experience. It should be seen in the context of an urge for recognition
of identity within the vast ambit of the liberal and accommodative spirit of
the Indian Union.
There is plenty of evidence to suggest that
such asymmetry has strengthened the Indian Union and led to better policy
implementation and participation in political processes. In this respect, the
multi-regional and ethnic J&K’s quest for autonomy should be seen through
the broader lens of a multi-layered appetite for political, economic and social
empowerment of all the three regions. J&K remains a microcosm of India’s
diversity. J&K’s immense geographical, ethnic and religious diversity
should be the source of strength rather than seen or viewed as a liability.
On devolution
I have always advocated, drawing from Balraj
Puri’s life-long advocacy of the same, that the devolution of political power
from Centre to J&K should not lead to political hegemony of any one region
or political party; rather, it should be accompanied with a devolution of
powers within J&K to reflect the former State’s divergent regional and
ethnic urges. The institutional reconciliation of differences among these
various shades of diversity is one of the prime components for a harmonious
solution to the J&K imbroglio. Any devolution should have adequate federal
checks and balances as accountability and transparency are at the heart of any
successful federal democracy.
Overcoming the setback
Sadly, the decision, of August, 5, by the
Indian Parliament has left everyone dissatisfied in J&K, including the
people of Kargil within the separated Ladakh. It has only compounded the divide
between J&K and the rest of the country that we, as a political class in
J&K, had been assiduously trying to bridge for several decades, and at
grave risk to our lives.
As we complete a year of this new
constitutional reality, the situation in J&K calls for serious
introspection from all those who believe in an inclusive and accommodative idea
of India. We need multiple bridges including those between J&K and the rest
of the country and among the various communities and regions of the former
State. In order to build these bridges we will need a greater multi-layered,
institutionalised decentralisation and respect for democratic rights for the
people of J&K. And in this respect the developments that ensued after
August 5, 2019 have run contrary to both.
M.Y. Tarigami is CPI(M) Central Committee Member, four-time
Member of the J&K Legislative Assembly from Kulgam Constitutency, and
President J&K – CITU
Profiteering
during a pandemic
Overcharging
the public should be made a punishable offence under the Disaster Management
Act
Soon after the government imposed a nationwide
lockdown to contain the spread of COVID-19, prices of essential items shot up
in several places across the country. The sudden demand for masks saw even an
ordinary mask being sold at ₹150 a piece, though it turned cheaper weeks later
when there was mass production.
Slowly, as cases grew, reports were published
of private hospitals overcharging patients, even after State governments capped
COVID-19 treatment charges. In some private hospitals, patients were asked to
pay lakhs even before being allotted beds. Even doctors working in these
hospitals reported that they thought their patients were being fleeced.
Compassion was nowhere to be seen. All that mattered was making money. For
instance, after a patient’s family lodged a complaint with the West Bengal
Clinical Establishment Regulatory Commission that the patient had been
overcharged, the Commission directed the private hospital where she had been
admitted to refund ₹1.4 lakh of the ₹1.84 lakh charged for Personal Protection
Equipment. The hospital was charging ₹7,000 a day for the cost of PPEs used by
the doctors against the cap of ₹1,000 fixed by the West Bengal government. Not
all patients who have been overcharged have been able to file complaints and
received refunds, however.
The cost of medicines too shot up. In
Srinagar, Remdesivir was being sold for as much as ₹36,000 against the normal
rate of ₹6,000. The poor could not afford the medicine and looked to government
agencies for help. In some places, those who could afford it purchased more
than the required quantity leading to shortage. In Mumbai, seven persons were
arrested for selling a vial of injection of Remdesivir at ₹30,000 against the
actual price of ₹5,400.
Ambulance owners too chose to make good money
in these pandemic times. For transporting patients up to a distance of about
10-15 km, they charged as much as ₹30,000 in Mumbai. For going to a hospital
just 7 km away, a patient had to spend ₹8,000 in Pune. In Kolkata, patients
were charged as much as ₹8,000 for a distance of 5 km, while in Hyderabad,
transportation charges ranged between ₹5,000 and ₹10,000 for a distance up to
10 km.
During the lockdown, poor migrants who wanted
to go home had to spend large amounts to hire vehicles. Buses operated by
private agencies charged exorbitant fares. Most migrants could not afford these
rates and had to trudge hundreds and hundreds of kilometres on foot. Many met
with accidents and lost their lives in the process.
Similar scenes of extortion were witnessed in
December 1984 when hundreds of residents around the Union Carbide pesticide
plant fled Bhopal to escape inhaling the poisonous gas that had leaked from the
unit.
Way back in 1897, the British enacted the
Epidemic Diseases Act which empowered the government to implement any measures
that would prevent the outbreak or spread of any disease. According to the law,
anyone disobeying the orders of any public servant can be punished under
Section 188 of the Indian Penal Code.
However, this is not enough. Since exploiting
the common man in such times has to be sternly dealt with, a provision ought to
be incorporated in the Disaster Management Act of 2005 to make overcharging the
public a punishable offence. There are several instances of the general public
having been subjected to misery and agony in the months following enforcement
of the lockdown; I have cited only a few. Denying admission in hospitals,
refusing to bury the dead in cemeteries, etc. need to be made punishable
offences. The horror stories of this pandemic give us an opportunity to do so.
M.P. Nathanael is Inspector General of Police (Retd), Central
Reserve Police Force
END
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