One of the more famous episodes in Indian mythology is of Lakshman drawing a line that Sita was not to cross. Today, we are a nation where governments and political organizations are drawing hundreds of rekhas that are not to be crossed. The curbs on the sale of meat imposed by several states are only the latest example of this growing craze for bans.
As the examples on this page show, our governments have been extremely creative in coming up with bans. Some are pan-Indian, others more local — ranging from beauty contests to the depiction of rash driving in films and advertisements. Gujarat has had a ban in place for over two decades on the sale of property from one community to another in some localities designated as communally sensitive. Delhi didn't allow women to tend bar till a Supreme Court ruling in 2007. Then, there are the 'dry days', which include every religious festival you can think of, Republic and Independence Days, and a mind-boggling array of birth and death anniversaries (in Maharashtra, for instance, there's Guru Ravidas Jayanti, Swami Dayanand Saraswati Jayanti, Valmiki Jayanti and Guru Tegh Bahadur Martyrdom Day, to name but a few).
READ ALSO: To bar or not to bar - SC has mixed record
On the face of it, some of these bans seem to be little more than irritants or temporary inconveniences; they may even appear ridiculous. But together, they point towards the rise of an increasingly intolerant state, which decides for us what is acceptable and what is objectionable — whether it's Facebook posts, cusswords, or comedy shows. All such bans buttress the notion that the state has the authority to circumscribe simple individual freedoms — what we eat, what we see or read, what we can say, or what we can poke fun at. These are often done on the pretext of 'protecting' the sentiments of religious communities, castes, even professions — remember the song whose lyrics had to be amended to 'Dilli ka tel' because a particular community identified by its traditional occupation decided they were derogatory?
Once we start conceding that individual freedom can be set aside on such specious grounds, we are on a slippery slope. This paper fears that we are already on that slope.
It's not just the idea of a liberal democracy that is in danger. It has economic consequences too. The meat ban, for instance, is a body blow to those who earn their livelihood by producing and selling meat. It's the same when a film or a book is banned.
Irrational bans almost invariably give rise to a black market for what is sought to be banned. Dry days mean off-the-books income for the bootlegging industry, for instance. Banned films promote the creation of an illicit market in DVDs that stays outside the formal economy. All of this leads to the generation of huge sums of unaccounted cash, which stays out of the tax net, and who knows, may even be finding its way into overseas accounts that the NDA government so wants to crack down on.
When the state is so ready to impose all manner of bans, it is hardly surprising that vigilante groups feel empowered to impose their own based on their morality. From Valentine's Day celebrations to girls wearing jeans or carrying mobile phones, every group that can summon up enough brute muscle to impose its writ thinks bans are fair game. The so-called moral police believe they have a right to beat up couples for public displays of affection and to vandalize art galleries, film theatres and bookstores for displaying anything that doesn't agree with their taste buds.
A state that itself chooses to be whimsical in imposing bans has neither the moral authority nor the stomach to deal with such groups in the manner in which it should.This has to change. The fact that such bans are in many cases not new but several decades old is no proof of their inherent merit. If India is to be counted as a modern nation and not a land of snake charmers, we must challenge these bans and say 'ban all bans'.
As the examples on this page show, our governments have been extremely creative in coming up with bans. Some are pan-Indian, others more local — ranging from beauty contests to the depiction of rash driving in films and advertisements. Gujarat has had a ban in place for over two decades on the sale of property from one community to another in some localities designated as communally sensitive. Delhi didn't allow women to tend bar till a Supreme Court ruling in 2007. Then, there are the 'dry days', which include every religious festival you can think of, Republic and Independence Days, and a mind-boggling array of birth and death anniversaries (in Maharashtra, for instance, there's Guru Ravidas Jayanti, Swami Dayanand Saraswati Jayanti, Valmiki Jayanti and Guru Tegh Bahadur Martyrdom Day, to name but a few).
READ ALSO: To bar or not to bar - SC has mixed record
On the face of it, some of these bans seem to be little more than irritants or temporary inconveniences; they may even appear ridiculous. But together, they point towards the rise of an increasingly intolerant state, which decides for us what is acceptable and what is objectionable — whether it's Facebook posts, cusswords, or comedy shows. All such bans buttress the notion that the state has the authority to circumscribe simple individual freedoms — what we eat, what we see or read, what we can say, or what we can poke fun at. These are often done on the pretext of 'protecting' the sentiments of religious communities, castes, even professions — remember the song whose lyrics had to be amended to 'Dilli ka tel' because a particular community identified by its traditional occupation decided they were derogatory?
Once we start conceding that individual freedom can be set aside on such specious grounds, we are on a slippery slope. This paper fears that we are already on that slope.
It's not just the idea of a liberal democracy that is in danger. It has economic consequences too. The meat ban, for instance, is a body blow to those who earn their livelihood by producing and selling meat. It's the same when a film or a book is banned.
Irrational bans almost invariably give rise to a black market for what is sought to be banned. Dry days mean off-the-books income for the bootlegging industry, for instance. Banned films promote the creation of an illicit market in DVDs that stays outside the formal economy. All of this leads to the generation of huge sums of unaccounted cash, which stays out of the tax net, and who knows, may even be finding its way into overseas accounts that the NDA government so wants to crack down on.
When the state is so ready to impose all manner of bans, it is hardly surprising that vigilante groups feel empowered to impose their own based on their morality. From Valentine's Day celebrations to girls wearing jeans or carrying mobile phones, every group that can summon up enough brute muscle to impose its writ thinks bans are fair game. The so-called moral police believe they have a right to beat up couples for public displays of affection and to vandalize art galleries, film theatres and bookstores for displaying anything that doesn't agree with their taste buds.
A state that itself chooses to be whimsical in imposing bans has neither the moral authority nor the stomach to deal with such groups in the manner in which it should.This has to change. The fact that such bans are in many cases not new but several decades old is no proof of their inherent merit. If India is to be counted as a modern nation and not a land of snake charmers, we must challenge these bans and say 'ban all bans'.
No comments:
Post a Comment