Mao vs. Gandhi in Chhattisgarh
A naïve admiration for the Maoists is emblematic of the tendency in some among the Indian intellectual class toward left-wing utopianism.
Maoist insurgents ambushed Indian security forces in the dense forest region of Chhattisgarh state in central India on Tuesday, killing over 70 troops of the Central Reserve Police Force. Analysts are calling it the worst single-day loss in fighting domestic insurgencies.
But despite such massacres, not everyone in India regards the Maoists with horror. One such apologist is the talented and articulate novelist Arundhati Roy who has, since her Booker Prize-winning 1997 novel "The God of Small Things," focused on bigger things, such as attacking Indian economic reforms, foreign investment, free markets, the United States and Israel.
In a rambling 19,500-word essay published a week ago in Outlook magazine in India and the Guardian newspaper, Ms. Roy writes of recent experiences following the Maoists in the Dandakaranya forest, near where the security forces were ambushed this week. The piece was headlined "Gandhi, but with guns."
The comparison is obscene. Not only does it suggest an amoral nihilism, it also represents a rewriting of history. A Gandhian with a gun is as absurd as a Maoist pacifist. India's founding father Mohandas Gandhi may not have been as perfect as some would make him out, but he did believe that only the right means could be used to reach an end, however noble. In 1922 he suspended a nationwide civil disobedience movement, when some Congress followers burned a police station in Chauri Chaura, killing over a dozen policemen and officers. Maoist ideology is precisely the opposite: The ends justify the means.
Ms. Roy herself notes that when she mentioned Mohandas Gandhi's non-violent struggle to the Maoists, they laughed hysterically. Despite her best efforts to portray a bucolic image of Maoists and tribals living harmoniously, their tranquility disturbed by forest officers, loggers, mining companies, and security forces, the truth still comes through. The Maoists show off an impressive arsenal of weapons, and their teenage recruits watch hours of reruns of violent ambush videos. The kids tell her they want to implement Mao's vision in India.
Ms. Roy's naïve admiration for the Maoists is emblematic of the tendency in some among the Indian intellectual class toward left-wing utopianism. In "Radical Chic & Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers," Tom Wolfe lampooned the Park Avenue elite sucking up to the Black Panther terrorists who were killing cops in 1960s America. Is history repeating itself in India?
Nevertheless, just as in America three decades ago, the tide may be turning as ordinary voters become fed up with the violence. Maoists have been fighting the Indian state for over four decades under various names, including Naxalites, the name the movement got because of its origins in the town Naxalbari in West Bengal, where peasants revolted against landlords in the 1960s.
Like Maoists elsewhere, they are brutal. They conduct show-trials, sometimes executing the people they find guilty; they use improvised explosive devices and land mines; and they appear to use child soldiers. Since 2006, their attacks have become audacious, targeting police stations, power lines, schools and trains. They have not spared civilians and other "class enemies" who in their view collaborate with the state.
Even India's Communist Parties have distanced themselves from Maoists, and condemned their practices. The opposition Bharatiya Janata Party strongly supports the government in its battle. For his part, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has called the Maoists' threat the gravest national security crisis the country faces.
To be sure, Indians living in forests have legitimate grievances. Their rights are routinely violated. Successive governments have failed them. Large companies, Indian and foreign, want the mineral wealth in those forests. The state hasn't built schools, nor equipped the few that are built. There are few primary health care centers, and the administration neglects remote areas. The rapidly modernizing and prospering parts of urban India ignores the region, its poverty, and its problems. But the Maoists offer no solution. Their collectivist authoritarianism is culturally alien in an India where spiritual acceptance of fate prevails, and where, despite feudal structures, inequities and rigidities, there is social and economic mobility. With all its flaws, it is a real democracy. Maoists know they would never win power through the ballot box.
They can only win through force, by shocking the state, by spreading terror, and by scaring away the administration so that they can reach their end. Which is power, not the removal of poverty.
Maoists want an articulate messenger, and Ms Roy fulfils that role. Her poetic eloquence clothes their naked ambition of power, offering it respectability. Her fame helps make their struggle known to audiences abroad, where people with limited knowledge of India accept the romanticized image of warriors in the jungle fighting for justice that she writes about. In early April, while the Maoists were preparing to ambush the troops in the forest, Ms Roy was in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in a public forum with Noam Chomsky.
Ms Roy has explained Maoist violence as a response to the repressive state, suggesting that the tribal groups are rising against the state, getting even—an eye for an eye. But as Gandhi said, an eye for an eye leaves the world blind.
A naïve admiration for the Maoists is emblematic of the tendency in some among the Indian intellectual class toward left-wing utopianism.
Maoist insurgents ambushed Indian security forces in the dense forest region of Chhattisgarh state in central India on Tuesday, killing over 70 troops of the Central Reserve Police Force. Analysts are calling it the worst single-day loss in fighting domestic insurgencies.
But despite such massacres, not everyone in India regards the Maoists with horror. One such apologist is the talented and articulate novelist Arundhati Roy who has, since her Booker Prize-winning 1997 novel "The God of Small Things," focused on bigger things, such as attacking Indian economic reforms, foreign investment, free markets, the United States and Israel.
In a rambling 19,500-word essay published a week ago in Outlook magazine in India and the Guardian newspaper, Ms. Roy writes of recent experiences following the Maoists in the Dandakaranya forest, near where the security forces were ambushed this week. The piece was headlined "Gandhi, but with guns."
The comparison is obscene. Not only does it suggest an amoral nihilism, it also represents a rewriting of history. A Gandhian with a gun is as absurd as a Maoist pacifist. India's founding father Mohandas Gandhi may not have been as perfect as some would make him out, but he did believe that only the right means could be used to reach an end, however noble. In 1922 he suspended a nationwide civil disobedience movement, when some Congress followers burned a police station in Chauri Chaura, killing over a dozen policemen and officers. Maoist ideology is precisely the opposite: The ends justify the means.
Ms. Roy herself notes that when she mentioned Mohandas Gandhi's non-violent struggle to the Maoists, they laughed hysterically. Despite her best efforts to portray a bucolic image of Maoists and tribals living harmoniously, their tranquility disturbed by forest officers, loggers, mining companies, and security forces, the truth still comes through. The Maoists show off an impressive arsenal of weapons, and their teenage recruits watch hours of reruns of violent ambush videos. The kids tell her they want to implement Mao's vision in India.
Ms. Roy's naïve admiration for the Maoists is emblematic of the tendency in some among the Indian intellectual class toward left-wing utopianism. In "Radical Chic & Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers," Tom Wolfe lampooned the Park Avenue elite sucking up to the Black Panther terrorists who were killing cops in 1960s America. Is history repeating itself in India?
Nevertheless, just as in America three decades ago, the tide may be turning as ordinary voters become fed up with the violence. Maoists have been fighting the Indian state for over four decades under various names, including Naxalites, the name the movement got because of its origins in the town Naxalbari in West Bengal, where peasants revolted against landlords in the 1960s.
Like Maoists elsewhere, they are brutal. They conduct show-trials, sometimes executing the people they find guilty; they use improvised explosive devices and land mines; and they appear to use child soldiers. Since 2006, their attacks have become audacious, targeting police stations, power lines, schools and trains. They have not spared civilians and other "class enemies" who in their view collaborate with the state.
Even India's Communist Parties have distanced themselves from Maoists, and condemned their practices. The opposition Bharatiya Janata Party strongly supports the government in its battle. For his part, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has called the Maoists' threat the gravest national security crisis the country faces.
To be sure, Indians living in forests have legitimate grievances. Their rights are routinely violated. Successive governments have failed them. Large companies, Indian and foreign, want the mineral wealth in those forests. The state hasn't built schools, nor equipped the few that are built. There are few primary health care centers, and the administration neglects remote areas. The rapidly modernizing and prospering parts of urban India ignores the region, its poverty, and its problems. But the Maoists offer no solution. Their collectivist authoritarianism is culturally alien in an India where spiritual acceptance of fate prevails, and where, despite feudal structures, inequities and rigidities, there is social and economic mobility. With all its flaws, it is a real democracy. Maoists know they would never win power through the ballot box.
They can only win through force, by shocking the state, by spreading terror, and by scaring away the administration so that they can reach their end. Which is power, not the removal of poverty.
Maoists want an articulate messenger, and Ms Roy fulfils that role. Her poetic eloquence clothes their naked ambition of power, offering it respectability. Her fame helps make their struggle known to audiences abroad, where people with limited knowledge of India accept the romanticized image of warriors in the jungle fighting for justice that she writes about. In early April, while the Maoists were preparing to ambush the troops in the forest, Ms Roy was in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in a public forum with Noam Chomsky.
Ms Roy has explained Maoist violence as a response to the repressive state, suggesting that the tribal groups are rising against the state, getting even—an eye for an eye. But as Gandhi said, an eye for an eye leaves the world blind.