Submerged questions
Erisha Suwal
SEP 27 – “The superman character in Harijan’s painting is a dark, smiling man; a real man from one of the ‘lower castes’, the artist tells me. “I like doing portraits of real people when I work.” (The Post, When forces of power collide, Aug 27)
in the case of Manish Harijan, you a Dalit artist with caste consciousness in his paintings and belligerant activists of the World Hindu Federation threatening the artist, with the help from the police and the bureaucracy. But amid the uproar to protect the right to freedom of expression surrounding the Hindu fundamentalists’ and the state’s response to Harijan’s paintings, it is surprising that the identity of the artist as a Dalit has beensuppressed. Harijan is a Dalit and no Dalit in a predominantly Hindu society like ours can deny the Dalit experience of discrimination, oppression and humiliation they face one way or the other. And if art draws from an artist’s personal experiences, then the Dalit experience is bound to seep into a Dalit artist’s paintings, as exemplified by the quote from the artist himself.
But why have there been efforts to suppress the identity of the artist as a Dalit? The word Dalit comes up only to mention Harijan’s background. Beyond this, the media, the protesting artists and other commentators have remained silent on the artist’s identity. The questions however, are there. Had a Brahmin, Chhetri or a non-Nepali painted similar art, would the reaction from the Hindu extremists been the same? Could WHF together with a secular state’s security apparatus have so easily intimidated the artist and later coerced him to sign documents limiting his own freedom of expression?
There are several reasons for the hesitation to politicise the artist’s identity. The artist community is happy to have a fervent debate over the right to freedom of expression and the state’s restricting interventions. The group has woken up to wonder whether their rights will be protected in Nepal’s new regime. For them, bringing up the Dalit issue is unnecessarily politicising the issue and a distraction. Some of those who hold this view are also the same artists who once claimed that their art-work was about making political commentary. The knowledgeable ones among them are fully aware that art and politics cannot be separated, and that even when art appears apolitical—to quote Orwell—the opinion that art should have nothing to do with politics is itself a political attitude.
So what is the politics behind suppressing the Dalit issues in Harijan’s case?
A small debate that Harijan’s case has stirred is on religious extremism and secularism. This is also a much-needed debate as we struggle to balance secularism with escalating identity politics, which is deeply tied to the stronghold of Hinduism in structuring the society.
Further, reactions to Harijan’s paintings have been increasingly juxtaposed with the events in the Arab world. While we are all too eager to jump at the opportunity to tie our national event with global trends we easily ignore the cancer in our guts — the caste divide, the Dalit condition and Untouchability.
The way society has responded to Harijan’s case reveals the unwillingness to directly address the Dalit issue. As always, the Dalit question gets submerged by larger questions of national importance. And, it is the non-Dalit community that decides what the larger questions are. In this case, it is the right to freedom of expression or balancing religion and secularism. In the past, during the movement against the Rana regime or the Panchayat system, it was democracy. During the emergence of the communist movement and the Maoists’ People’s War, it was a class struggle where Dalit grievances were lumped into those of the proletariat. As far as the political agenda goes, Dalits have always been on the losing end. Their agenda was lost somewhere in the quest for democracy, human rights and a classless society. The rationale provided could be that if society benefits, Dalits benefit.
The tragic part about the Harijan case is that no Dalit activist or journalist has come forward to defend the obvious truth that his identity and his art are inextricably linked. Some have extended support privately. Others are standing on the sidelines waiting for the episode to fade into oblivion. This is the same Dalit civil society that mobilised rapidly and sent delegations to the National Planning Commission in response to bureaucrats not wishing to include the phrase “structural discrimination” in the UN’s Development Assistance Framework. But on the issue that goes to the heart of Dalit experience, it is silent. It is clear that the Dalit community’s political expressions are so suppressed that when a Dalit artist is threatened, they have to think twice before making it a political issue.
Knowingly or unknowingly, Harijan has struck a chord that does not please some Hindu groups.
It is for critics to evaluate the merits of his art, but his identity cannot be downplayed. Caste is at the centre of this and we should at the least acknowledge it. In the earlier days of the Dalit movement, entering Hindu temples was a symbolic act of rebellion. Today, a Dalit artist has not only painted Hindu gods and goddesses but gone a step further to express an interaction between Hindu gods and Western superheroes.
The Dalit movement is rethinking its struggle within the changing context of rising identity politics and globalisation. The time is right for it to step forward, in creative—and artistic—ways to destroy the caste system.