Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Friday, May 29, 2015
A museum and a mystic revive Sopore
Once described as the
“chhota” (little) London for its prosperity, Sopore — encased by apple orchards
— was virtually destroyed during the last two decades. Today, this town is
regaining its spirit and one of the most remarkable features is the Meraas
Mahal Museum, which captures Kashmir’s heritage and tradition.
The museum is the story of
the indomitable audacity of one person. The first woman Director of Libraries
in Kashmir, Atiqa Bano, established it over a decade ago, but it is only in the
last of couple of years that it has become well-known. The museum describes
itself as the “Centre for Preservation of Our Glorious Heritage”, and has an
impressive collection of ornaments, papier mache, dresses, coins, manuscripts
and paintings and traditional utensils.
As we sit with
Atiqa ji in the nearby College of Education that she runs, her steely spirit is
evident as she recounts the challenges she faced during the years of violent
conflict, even as she serves us ‘sheekh kebabs’ and ‘noon chai’ (salted
Kashmiri tea).
The traditional
dresses are breathtaking. Both Pandit and Muslim Pherans, along with the
accessories, are well preserved. What is evident is, however, that one woman’s
extraordinary effort requires support and help, including perhaps the services
of a professional curator.
She credits her
“success” to the blessings of Ahad Sahib, the mystical saint of Sopore who
passed away in 2010. While alive, there was no contemporary Sufi saint in
Kashmir who invited such a large following across religions, and whose powerful
gaze was often compared by his Hindu followers to the luminosity of Ramana
Maharishi’s eyes. Today, Ahad Sahib’s former home includes a shrine where
hundreds of devotees are seen every day.
Sopore is
believed to have been named after Suyya, Kashmir’s cleverest engineer, who
devised a novel way of dredging to prevent floods in the valley. Today, with
the blessings of Ahad Sahib and the courage of persons like Atiqa Bano, Sopore
may once again show the way.
(Source: The Hindu, 29 May 2015)
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Blue is the colour of hope in Kashmir
If the colour of the holy spring at Kheer
Bhawani at Tul Mul village in Kashmir’s Ganderbal district is good evidence,
Kashmir may be on the cusp of a new beginning.
As thousands of devotees gathered at the
annual mela of Kheer Bhawani, Kashmir’s largest Hindu festival (a gazetted
holiday in the valley), the gentle interdependence and mutual respect that
Pandits and Muslims have enjoyed for centuries was also on display.
The Pandits’ principal deities have mostly
natural forms. Sharika is the holy hill at Hari Parbat adjoining the great fort
that Akbar built, while Ragya is the spring at Tul Mul. And on Tuesday — under
the bed of rose petals showered by the pilgrims — the water was a gentle
aquamarine blue: the colour of hope and with the promise of a better future. My
mother remembers the spring as dark purplish and then almost black in the
troubled Nineties.
Yearning for reconciliation intense in Kashmir
As thousands of Pandits and other devotees
prayed at the holy spring at Kheer Bhawani at Tul Mul village in Kashmir’s
Ganderbal district, there were Muslims too.
All the shops that sell the puja samagri —
including the kands (sugar lumps), diyas, and agarbati — are run by Muslims.
There were a range of stalls and service centres to help the devotees and
provide free kehwa, luchi (a flat Kashmiri deep fried roti) and even lunch.
But perhaps the most striking was one run by
Sameer Kaul and Suhail Ahmed. A Pandit and a Muslim, one teaching Computer
Science and the other Management, both teachers of the Islamia College of
Commerce, have been serving the “community” for more than the last decade.
Their bond was one of a shared past that could lead to a new future.
I asked an elderly Muslim gentleman from
downtown Srinagar why he was there. He said that he had been coming to Tul Mul
for 40 years and added, with the proverbial Kashmiri sarcasm: Azkal cha
Gaunah?” (Why, have they made it crime?).
Strictly vegetarian deity
Ragya is one of the few Pandit deities who is
strictly vegetarian and who will not forgive those who enter her portals after
a non-vegetarian meal.
In contrast, the prasad at Sharika is yellow
rice with hot mutton liver curry and the priest even offers a sheep’s lungs to
kites on the hill. But in deference to Ragya, every Muslim I met said that he
would never enter the shrine’s compound after eating mutton, fish or fowl nor
would anyone from the neighbourhood.
It was evident from the gathering at Kheer
Bhawani that the yearning for reconciliation is intense on both sides and this
year could be a game changer. Perhaps that is what the colour at the holy
spring was telling us.
(Source: The Hindu, 27 May 2015)
Monday, May 25, 2015
Interview: No magic mantra for Kashmiri Pandits to return — but their return reflects peace
In an
interview with The Times of India, Professor Mattoo discussed the proposed
return of Kashmiri Pandits, realistic steps forward, several levels of
reconciliation required — and why it is in PM Modi’s interest to end draconian
laws in the region:
How
would you assess the proposed Pandit rehabilitation?
Jammu & Kashmir (J&K) has gone through turmoil in
the last 25 years and a certain state of instability since Independence. You
now have perhaps — once the militancy’s ebbed — an attempt to create a climate
for reconciliation which, in the case of J&K, means not just one but multiple
processes.
You need reconciliation between Kashmiri Muslims and Delhi.
For decades, Kashmiris have felt deeply alienated from the Centre’s policies.
In the Valley, you need reconciliation between Pandits and Muslims. Everyone
recognises they were faithful to a syncretic culture for centuries — but the
gulf between them has widened.
Then, within the state, you need multiple reconciliations
between the Valley, Jammu and Ladakh and within these regions, there are
sub-regions.
Finally, there has to be reconciliation between two parts of
Kashmir across the LoC. And, in a grand kind of reconciliation, we need to
build foundations of India-Pakistan peace.
How
can this be achieved realistically?
There is no magic mantra, no quick fix. No one has a
solution that can be mechanically adopted. I think to believe, or create a
mechanical construct of the perfect way for Pandits to return, is unreal — you
require a dialogue between Pandits and Muslims at civil society level, so that
you can arrive at an understanding. Then, state government and Delhi can
facilitate whatever is arrived at.
I think no one has spoken to Pandits directly or to civil
society in the Valley. Rather than impose solutions, you need consensus in an
organic way — that would be a way of ensuring durable, sustainable return of
Pandits with dignity.
The return would be one important marker of peace.
The
PDP-BJP government appears confused over the issue — your view?
The government has been in office for just two months. The
very attempt to form the government was an attempt at reconciliation.
PDP and BJP represent, in some ways, two extremes — to form
a government with these extremes and arrive at a common agenda is also the
basis of trying to address divergent aspirations.
You have to take a strategic long-term view.
Unfortunately, given that you have the glare of the media on
every single move, whether tactical or incremental change, it is all put under
a microscope.
Meanwhile,
critics still point to draconian laws in the region.
Well, you need to address a genuine sense of insecurity in
the Valley.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi has demonstrated he no longer
wants to be just leader of a section of people but be seen as an international
statesman — he wants to rise above partisan politics.
The greatest hallmark of his success would be durable peace
in Kashmir.
One of the markers of it would also be withdrawal of all
other extra legislations.
(Source: The Times of India , 25 May 2015)
Monday, March 16, 2015
Prof Mattoo at Oxford
Prof Mattoo delivered an address titled 'The Intellectual Legacy of Martin Ceadel' at Oxford University recently. Below is an abridged version of the speech.
It
is the greatest honour to be invited to return to Oxford to celebrate the
intellectual achievements of Martin Ceadel: as a scholar, as a teacher
and, in my case, as a doctoral supervisor.
I
completed my DPhil. in July 1992 and in all the 23 years since then I have
neither met Martin nor been in contact with him. I cannot claim to be a friend
of Martin’s and our social relationship – during my almost four years at Oxford
– was limited to a wonderful dinner at Debby and Martin’s lovely home with, if
I remember right, Avi Shlaim (the great scholar of the Middle East), where I
was first introduced to the culinary joys of a delectable savoury ice
cream as a starter. Martin also invited my wife Ajita and me to lunch at
New College after I successfully defended my D.Phil. thesis where, for the
first time, both for him and for me, we polished off a bottle of sauvignon
blanc in the afternoon. But that was it!
Before
it began, I had thought my Oxford journey would be merely a respite from what I
imagined would be an arduous career in the Indian civil service. But Oxford and
Martin Ceadel changed all that. The civil service seemed too stifling a
career, the seductive world of ideas that I had been introduced to at Oxford
seemed much more fulfilling and attractive.
I
moved back to India, resigned from the civil service, became a leader writer
for two dailies, and then tried to straddle what then seemed the Manichean
worlds of academia and public policy.
I
am a Kashmiri. My family lived in the Himalayan valley, which had imploded
while I was at Oxford. Unlike
many others, they had stayed on! War and peace were not distant conceptual issues; they were
part of a daily struggle to survive, to recover what we had lost and part of a
gigantic mission to build peace, aman, shanti – call it what
you will. There was no choice between the theory of peace building and
the praxis of peace building. My world continues to be one in which I use
my ideas to intervene in policy. In contrast, Martin Ceadel never left what seemed
to be the ivory tower world of academia. In fact I remember when a Campaign for
Nuclear Disarmament activist, after hearing Martin Ceadel’s clinical narrative
of the history of the British peace movement, here at Oxford at the Friends
Meeting House at 43 St Giles, exclaimed in horror, at the end of the talk: “How
can you be so dispassionate?”
And
yet, ironically – some may say – through all these years, I have always
considered Martin Ceadel my intellectual guru, in every sense of the term. A
guru in the Vedic Sanskrit tradition is more than just a teacher, more than a
role model. A guru is an embodiment of the highest virtues of
scholarship, one who gives without asking, one who shares without demanding
reciprocity, one whose intellectual generosity knows no selfish emotion. Martin
Ceadel was and will remain, I repeat, my guru. I say this not in in any
rhetorical way, or because the occasion demands that we be positive about
Martin, but because through all these years that I have navigated the minefield
of South Asian politics and particularly the issues of war and peace that we
are confronted with every day in the region, the writings of Martin Ceadel have
given me great clarity. While Martin’s writings have been firmly located
in British and, to an extent, European history, there are universal truths –
and I use the term “truths” knowing very well how loaded it is – to his
understanding and analysis which apply as much to South Asia as to the larger
international system.
So
when Jonathan sent an email to me at Melbourne on the “outside chance”,
inviting me to be part of this colloquium, I said yes in the blink of an eye.
There would be other engagements, other calls, but this was an occasion that I
could not miss. I made it clear that I would not have the time to make an
academic presentation, but that I did want to reflect, a little
self-indulgently perhaps, on aspects of Martin’s work as a teacher and a
supervisor, as a student of the British peace movements and as a scholar of war
and peace.
Let
me begin by focusing on what I would argue was Martin Ceadel’s seminal
contribution to scholarly thinking about the issues of war and peace, Thinking
about peace and war,which was published in 1987 by OUP, and then as an OPUS
paperback in 1989. OPUS books then (with the triumvirate of Keith Thomas,
Alan Ryan and Walter Bodmer as general editors) were intended to provide
concise and original introductions to a diverse range of subjects. Experts
wrote them for students and for the general reader. For me, Thinking about
peace and war was a path-breaking study. It influenced and continues
to influence generations of those academics and practitioners who are engaged
with the fundamental question that Martin asked in the book: “Why do people
disagree about war prevention?” Although Martin saw and sees himself more as a
historian and less a theoretician, the book preempted much of the theoretical
work in International Relations of the 1990s and of the first decade of this
century, including the latest variants of realism, liberalism and even
constructivism. Of course, as you will recall, in the appendix of the
book, Martin had critiqued Martin Wright’s typologies (for being “unnecessarily
complicated as well as for being neither readily understood nor easily memorable”)
as well as Kenneth Waltz more gently, arguing that the latter’s Man,
the State and War belonged to the “category of philosophical works
rather than those able to elucidate everyday debates about war and peace”.
Although
derived primarily from Martin’s solid archival research into the history of the
British peace movement and European wars, Thinking about peace and war for
me was a critical aid to understanding the debates about war and peace in South
Asia (beyond the crude realism that seemed to define the discourse of our
times). No less importantly, it helped me to advise several Indian
leaders as theysought to engage Pakistan in a sustained, but ill-fated, process
of reconciliation and war-prevention.
In Thinking
about peace and war, Martin Ceadel pointed out incisively that in order to
understand the “underlying dynamics of the war and peace debate it is essential
to probe deeper, as in domestic politics, to the ideological level”. Without
this deeper understanding of ideological motivations, Martin pointed out, the
war and peace debate is conceptually stunted. In the book, as we all know,
Martin examined the competition between five war and peace theories:
militarism, crusading, defencism, pacific–ism, and pacifism (in
its optimistic and mainstream version). This typology was analyzed
along two dimensions: attitude towards force, and doctrinal content – that is,
means and ends. Having dealt thoroughly with the content of each theory, in his
concluding chapters Martin analyzed the determinants of the debate, focusing
both on political culture and strategic situation.
While
Martin’s book was written when there were few signs that the Cold War was
ending, it is a tribute to his scholarship that this typology, suitably
customized, was most useful in understanding issues of war and peace in nuclear
South Asia. I have used Martin’s study to arrive at an understanding of India's
and Pakistan's strategic culture for my academic s well as my
policy papers. Indeed,
to move the debate beyond the poverty of the realist/liberal debate. If
only some of these papers were declassified, the tremendous influence of
Martin’s work beyond this island would become clear.
As a student of the British peace movement, Martin Ceadel has no
equal. Each of his four books is essential reading for students of
contemporary British history.
· Pacifism
in Britain, 1914–1945: The defining of a faith (1980)
· The origins of war
prevention: The British peace movement and international relations, 1730–1854(1996)
· Semi-detached
idealists: The British peace movement and international relations, 1854-1945(2000)
· Living
the great illusion: Sir Norman Angell, 1872–1967 (2009)
They
are not just models of rigorous archival research, but exceptional in being
able to weave common threads though two centuries of British peace activism.
But as with the finest scholarship, they have wider implications, lessons – but
in no didactic fashion – for the world that confronts us today. As we face a
rising China – and that rise is starkly obvious in the two countries where I
live most of the time, India and Australia – it is increasingly clear that
sustainable peace built on the fact of economic integration and
interdependence, may turn out to be another great illusion, as much a chimera
today as it was in the late 19th and early 20th century.
As
a supervisor, Martin was the reason I finished my D.Phil. in just under four
years. I started out wanting to study the contemporary British peace
movement, greatly influenced by the writings of the charismatic Marxist
historian E. P. Thompson, and inspired by Frank Parkin’s Middle class
radicalism: projects, in hindsight, that could have lasted decades! It was
Martin who suggested I write a history of the re-emergence, growth and decline
of the CND in the 1990s. He thought – wisely – that I, as a total outsider,
could, for want of a better word, “infiltrate” the CND, not in a Michael
Heseltine way but as a participant observer, and gain access to the archives of
the organizations at the national and local level. Which I did. My
central thesis, which explored the tensions between the organization’s
absolutism (psychologically essential to generate activism) and the prudence or
pragmatism that would widen its popular base, remains as true of the CND then
as it does now of numerous other causes across the world.
As
a supervisor, Martin was demanding but always patient. Every month I would see
him in his New College study with a draft chapter sent to him a day in advance.
Every half-baked argument was challenged, every split infinitive corrected. He
could be fierce in his criticism (“This reads like a CND pamphlet”) but always
encouraging and optimistic (“I think we are almost there”). It is his
supervisory style that I have used as a model. Begin writing from day one, no
matter how unsure you are. The more you write, the better you will get at it.
Every argument, flawed as it may be initially, will get more rigorous and more
sophisticated with each iteration. I wrote about 10 drafts of each chapter. But
my first draft was written in my first month at Oxford, when I could barely
expand on the acronym CND.
For
23 years, I said, I have had no contact with Martin Ceadel. And yet I am
wrong! Each time I have grappled with an intellectual or policy problem
(ranging from violence in Kashmir, to nuclear deterrence, to the India-Pakistan
conflict, to the rise of China), or indeed each time I have tackled a difficult
student, I have gone back to what Martin Ceadel taught me, to how he taught me
and to his own writings which are a source of continuing inspiration to me.
That is the reason I am here. For I could think of no other way I could pay
tribute to a great teacher.
Thank
you Martin Ceadel!
Thank
you very much for inviting me!
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