Sinking with America: The (Yet Again) Nauseating Spectacle of “Elections”

in homage to Jonathan Swift, author of a “Modest Proposal …” (1729)

Here is the world, once again, waiting for the outcome of an American presidential election.  Every four years, the American electorate goes to the polls and the rest of the world waits for the results with anxiety, trepidation, dread, sometimes excitement. It was commonly the case that, in most American elections which included a run for the White House, around half of the population voted; in other elections, the percentage of voters was even lower. In the last presidential elections, held in 2020, nearly 2/3rds of eligible voters cast their ballots, a much higher number than in any other election, though a 2022 study by the Pew Research Center showed that the United States ranks 31st globally when comparing the turnout for the voting-age population. A significant number of Americans, then, have sat out every election—but, oddly enough, the rest of the world awaits the results with bated breath.  In some countries, they are most excited about the US election than they are about their own elections. One can imagine why that might be the case, for instance, in north Korea, but why should that be the case anywhere else in the world?

The answer should be obvious: the United States, notwithstanding the frequently encountered arguments about how we live in an increasingly multi-polar world, remains the world’s premier power. China and Russia may lodge a vote here and there in the Security Council to unsettle the US, but they are utterly incapable of doing anything to even mitigate the US-aided genocide that has been unfolding in Gaza over the last thirteen months. Fifteen to twenty years ago the predictions of the demise of the dollar were a dime a dozen, and some were already speaking of it as something of a spent currency, but if anything the dollar is stronger today than it has been in the past. True, China has immense foreign exchange reserves, but these are in dollars; India’s booming foreign exchange reserves are not in euros, the yen, or the yuan, but again in dollars. Here’s the cliché:  the dollar is still king.  

The United States is, in fact, the only superpower: let not the world be deluded into thinking otherwise. Let me put it in rather unchaste language: when the US shits, the world shits; when the US burps, the world burps; when the US cries, the world cries. Remember how, after the September 11th bombings, the storied French newspaper, Le Monde, rushed to proclaim, “Nous sommes tous Américans”, “we are all Americans”. One might have thought that the French had some pride, or at least they claim to have “reserves” of it, but they swallowed all their pride when they capitulated, with barely a fight, to German fascism. (We should always be particular, when speaking of National Socialism and the phenomenon of Nazism, to speak of the Germans: one of the many ways in which the Germans have sought to hoodwink the world about what transpired in their country from 1933 to 1945 is to suggest that the “Nazis” engaged in “errant” behavior—as though the Nazis were not Germans. But this is another story.) The story of French enslavement to the US is, of course, the narrative of everyone’s enslavement to the story of America.  Such is the “dream-work”, as I have described it elsewhere, that America performs. Let me make bold as to extend the insights of Malcolm X: when it comes to the United States, and particularly to the American elections, the entire world behaves like “field Negroes”. When the master gets sick, the world prays that the master will get well soon.

To return, however, to the US elections: in early 2008, as Obama was about to emerge as the front-runner in the Democratic primaries, the Hindustan Times published an opinion piece by me called “Our Fingers in the American Pie” (February 7, p. 14). I have, just as the polling stations in the US have opened up in most of the country for this round of elections, taken the liberty of reproducing it below. There I offered the “modest proposal” that, in an American presidential election, every adult in the world should be permitted to vote.  After all, shouldn’t the Afghans, Palestinians, Lebanese, Iraqis, and many others be able to decide whether they want the genocide inflicted upon them by a Democratic candidate or the Republican counterpart? Surely this much freedom of choice should be accorded to the afflicted?

At this juncture, I want to refine that “modest proposal”—at the risk of appearing exceedingly immodest. So, in addition to having a world electorate for the US elections, I suggest that the vote be denied to all Americans except for those in the swing states. No, folks, I’m serious. Why bother having elections in the rest of the country and expending hundreds of millions of dollars preparing ballots, preparing an election machinery, running television ads, and having the rest of the paraphernalia that makes up the circus—complete with clowns, for how else would one describe most American politicians of the likes of the Orangeman, Lyin’ Ted, Ron DeSancitmonious, Birdbrain (remember “Nikki”), and the rest of the troglodytes—called “American elections”. (The Japanese, as I know from my own experience in the country, have a difficult time with “l”: elections turned into erections describes, perhaps somewhat fittingly, the American penetration of the public stratosphere.) If the “swing states” decide everything, shouldn’t we, for the sake of prudence and fiscal discipline, just hold the vote in those states? Alright, we can throw Iowa into the mix: make that eight rather than seven states. But there seems to be no compelling reason why solidly “blue” states such as California or New York or solidly “red” states such as Texas and Florida should conduct elections and waste “taxpayer’s money”.  Come to think of it, if everything should revolve around Pennsylvania, perhaps in the next election we might consider restricting the vote to residents of Pennsylvania? That would restore Pennsylvania to its rightful place in American history—the site of battles such as Brandywine and Germantown, host to the first and second Continental Congress, and so on.

Here, then, is my piece form 2008, “Our Fingers in the American Pie”, and I don’t think I would change a word of it:

Every four years, the world is taken on a roller-coaster ride as Americans cast their vote for the President of the United States.   Though votes are also cast to fill vacancies in the Congress, state Governorships, and other state and local offices, the story of the quest for the Presidency is an all-consuming affair.  This year’s race for the White House, whose occupant is generally known as the world’s most powerful man, has everywhere generated more than the usual excitement, and understandably so:  for the first time in American history, the Anglo-Saxon white male’s iron-clad grip over this office, indeed his prerogative to claim the office as his birthright, seems to have been put into question.  Had Hillary Clinton been the sole Democratic front-runner, she would already have, in our cliché-worn times, ‘made history’; all but poised to claim victory as the nominee of the Democratic Party, she suddenly found more than a worthy contender in Barack Obama, who is not only young but, from his father’s side, of African descent.  In a country where nearly one out of every three African American males will, in his lifetime, have had some experience with the criminal justice system, the political ascendancy of Obama is a wholly unexpected political phenomenon.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Obama won in Ohio; but if that was supposed to pave the way for his easy nomination as the Democratic Party’s candidate for the Presidency, the voters in New Hampshire robbed him of his advantage.  Clinton outwitted him and the scales are now evenly tilted.  Though the Republican candidates are less colorful by comparison, certainly to interested spectators overseas, the race in the Grand Old Party was similarly wide open before John McCain suddenly appeared to all but seal his nomination.  All of this is often described as a resounding testimony to the vitality of American democracy, and merely serves to confirm Americans in their cherished belief that it is for them to set the benchmark for what constitutes democracy.

Many travesties have, of course, been committed in the name of democracy, and it is a chilling thought that the same country which could not conduct fair elections in either 2000 or 2004, even requiring the Supreme Court to crown the President, partly justified its assault upon Iraq with the argument that the United States was determined to bring democracy to the volatile Middle East.  Dynastic politics, it was long argued by American and European political scientists, seemed ingrained among Asians and Africans, lesser people not infused by the sentiment of democracy, though if Hillary Clinton gets elected to office the White House will have been occupied at the end of her first term by a Clinton or a Bush for twenty-four years.

American democracy, then, is much less a dynamic thing than what one might imagine, and it is certainly safe to aver that it is, for people in some parts of the globe, a positively dangerous thing.  It is dangerous not because it will emancipate people who are in shackles, much less because American democracy has generated ideas feared by despots and authoritarian rulers, but rather for the all-too-obvious and therefore overlooked reason that an American election invariably has global repercussions.  When the people of Mauritius or New Zealand go to the polls, the consequences of their votes do not generally extend beyond the boundaries of their respective countries.   Even the electoral exercise and outcome in India, for all the country’s aspirations to be recognized as a great power, has comparatively little weight outside South Asia.  An American election, however, is never merely an American affair – indeed, one suspects that it is more closely watched in some countries than it is in parts of the United States itself.   In presidential elections, generally half of the electorate votes; in other election years, the voter turnout is poorer.   One of the many luxuries of being an American is that one can, evidently, be supremely indifferent about the outcome of a presidential election.  But luxuries, as is commonly known, are obtained at someone else’s expense; many must labor to make available luxuries to the few.

This brings me, then, to my modest proposal.  When America votes, the world watches and listens – and even, here and there, rumbles.  Larger countries, such as China and India, or highly affluent and friendly nations such as Switzerland and Australia, can shield themselves to a substantial degree from the consequences of an American election.  But smaller countries, as well as those which have earned the enmity or wrath of the United States, are not so fortunately placed.   Though political scientists, policy makers, journalists, and other commentators have written profusely on the meaning of democracy, and there has been much speculation about how democracy might be stretched to make it something more than an exercise in casting votes, the idea of electoral democracy remains paramount.  The United States, in particular, has demanded allegiance to the idea of ‘one person, one vote’.   The uniquely global phenomenon that the American election is, the world should insist that every adult around the globe should have the opportunity of voting in an American election and so be able to have a hand in shaping his or her own future.   One must ensure, especially, that the citizens of those countries that have faced the brunt of American oppression, such as Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Nicaragua, Cuba, Iraq, and Sudan, have the power of the vote to influence the course of events in the United States.  To be sure, this might amount to nothing more than having the inalienable right of deciding whether they wished to bombed into oblivion by a Democrat or a Republican, by a Reagan, Bush, or a Clinton. 

If anyone deems this an immodest proposal, it remains only to end with a singular observation.   In outsourcing their elections to people who must be ever so vigilant about the course of affairs in the United States, Americans may finally succeed in bringing the idea of American democracy to wondrous fruition.  And the numerous theorists who have been writing the obituary of the nation-state should similarly feel quite fulfilled.

Genocide in Gaza and the Pariah State of Israel

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Just days after Israel started pulverizing Gaza after Hamas’s attack of October 7 on Israeli military posts and settlements, with the intent, as its own leaders openly claimed, of seeking the complete elimination of Hamas and ‘total victory’, and it was becoming palpably clear that Israel’s severe retribution would lead to nothing more than the willful killing of thousands of innocents, the United States began casting aspersions on press releases from the Palestinian Health Ministry that had a count of the dead and the injured. At a time when the ministry had documented the deaths of more than 7,000 Palestinians, President Biden confidently declared that he had ‘no confidence in the number that the Palestinians are using’, reiterating that ‘I have no notion that the Palestinians are telling the truth about how many people are killed.’

If one were inclined to be charitable to Biden, one might suppose that he was alluding only to the fact that in wartime data on casualties is neither easily obtained nor verifiable. But there is something far more insidious at work here: the idea is ingrained in Western discourse on the ‘other’ about the aversion to veracity among ‘Orientals’. Curzon, as Viceroy of India (1888-1905), unabashedly exclaimed before the students at Calcutta University that the Indian was accustomed to abiding by a much lesser standard of truth than the Englishman. If Palestinians are nothing more than terrorists, a position articulated by many senior Israeli politicians, no one should doubt that they are liars at heart—and that they have, on this view, greatly exaggerated the casualties so as to win world sympathy.

However, nine months into the war, it is the credibility of both Israel and the United States that is at stake. On 7 March 2024, in his State of Union address, Biden conceded that more than 30,000 Palestinians have been killed — most of whom are not Hamas.’ The White House admitted that these figures were drawn from the Gaza Ministry of Health. Though two UN agencies, the WHO and the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, ordinarily keep track of casualties in war zones, they have not done so in the present conflict; rather, they have furnished reasons for relying on figures released by the Gaza Health Ministry. As Farhan Haq, a spokesperson for UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres, rather poignantly remarked at a press conference on May 15, ‘Unfortunately we have the sad experience of coordinating with the Ministry of Health on casualty figures every few years for large mass casualty incidents in Gaza, and in past times their figures have proven to be generally accurate.’

The ‘correspondence’ of July 5 published in the Lancet, the renowned British medical journal, on ‘counting the dead’ thus takes on new and, sadly, alarming significance. As of June 19, the journal reported, 37,396 peopled had died in Gaza; at least another 10,000 lie dead under the rubble of thousands of buildings now in ruins. This is scarcely new information; however, the picture that the Lancet paints of the despair, desolation, disease, and death in Gaza is of a different magnitude. The authors contend, rightly, that in every such conflict, the proportion of ‘indirect deaths’ to ‘direct deaths’ is at least 3:1, sometimes as much as 15:1. Over time, a large number of people will succumb from reproductive, communicable and non-communicable diseases that will spread in consequence of the nearly complete destruction of Gaza. The health infrastructure is in shambles; desalination plants have been destroyed; and, though famine has not officially been declared, malnutrition and starvation have already become widespread. According to the Lancet, it is reasonable to say that up to ‘186,000 or even more deaths could be attributable to the current conflict in Gaza.’

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A view of the destruction left by Israel’s military campaign after ground forces withdrew from parts of Gaza City and North Gaza on 1 February 2024. Credit: Abdulqader Sabbah/Anadoluhttps://www.thenewhumanitarian.org/news-feature/2024/02/01/gaza-aid-leaders-warn-extreme-obstacles-ceasefire

Lancet, which no one would describe as a vehicle of ideological opinion, is unflinching in its description of what is transpiring in Gaza as ‘genocide’. But genocide, apart from the definitions offered in legal instruments such as the UN Genocide Convention, can more usefully be understood, especially in the present conflict, as encompassing a cluster of phenomena. If the Lancet figures are correct, or reasonably so, some 8% of the population of Gaza will have been killed over time if the conflict comes to an end at this time. The wanton killing of people is democide. To this we can add domicide: at least 35% of all buildings in the Gaza strip have been utterly destroyed and have made this city uninhabitable. Every single university in Gaza has been bombed: the extermination of the cultural inheritance of a people is recognized as genocide, but the deliberate targeting of universities and the knowledge base of a people, with the obvious aim of decimating several generations, is nothing less than epistemicide. And, finally, Gaza presents a frightful picture of ecocide: the wholesale destruction of the soil and the water, and the widespread diffusion of toxic materials and contaminants, presages the various ways in which the destruction of Palestine and the destruction of the earth go hand in hand.

How, then, is Israel to be contained? Some ask why Israel is apparently being singled out as a genocidal state. The last few decades alone have, after all, seen other genocides—some of them, as in Guatemala, Rwanda, Sudan, and Syria, on a larger scale than what is on witness now in Gaza, though Oxfam noted around January 10 that ‘Israel’s military is killing Palestinians at an average rate of 250 people a day which exceeds the daily death toll of any other major conflict of recent years.’ But there is much that is distinctive about this genocide, apart from the fact that it is the first genocide happening in real time in the era of social media. The United States and the democracies of Western Europe, all erstwhile colonizing powers with a ravenous maw, have of course also been monuments to colossal hypocrisy, but their appetite for blood, condoning what Israel has done at every turn, is nevertheless breathtaking. And all of this after they have for decades been shouting themselves hoarse with the slogan, ‘Never again’. But there is something still more ominous and perverse: Israel has always acted with absolute impunity, armed with the delusional idea that its birth from, as it supposes, the ashes of the Holocaust gives it equally the unqualified right to inflict harm on the Palestinians and claim special status as a victim nation.

There is nothing within the known pharmacopeia of how international relations and violent conflict may be managed which enables the world to deal with such perversity. The International Court of Justice has, to simplify its ruling, issued restraining orders on Israel but it has not made an iota of difference.  Israel speaks of the International Criminal Court, which has requested arrest warrants in the name of two leaders each of Hamas and Israel, including Benjamin Netanyahu, with complete contempt. Nothing on the horizon suggests that Israel has any intention of mending its ways or that it is truly vulnerable even to pressure from the United States. This is the occasion to think about how the idea of nonviolence may be advanced in our times, and a beginning can be made by isolating Israel entirely in every sphere of life: politics, economics, sports, cultural contacts, and so on. The Old Testament prophets knew a thing or two about pariah-people. It is time that Israel should have to contend with being treated as a pariah state.

A considerably abridged version of this appeared online at the Indian Express website as “Counting the Dead: Is there Anything That Can Temper Israel?” on July 19 and has also been published in the print edition of the newspaper on July 22 as “Death and Desolation in Gaza”.

An African American in Nagpur:  James M. Lawson and the India Years, 1953-56

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(with a nod to James Baldwin, “Stranger in the Village”)

The most eminent or renowned of the civil rights leaders all visited India. Martin Luther King, Jr. did so in 1959, penning an article for the popular magazine Ebony in its July issue that year with the title, “My Trip to the Land of Gandhi.” We may surmise from the title what took King to that ancient land: for him, as for many around the world, particularly those who were contemporaries of the one called the Mahatma, India and Gandhi had become synonymous. King had set the tone for that trip when, upon arriving in India, he declared that he traveled to other countries as a tourist but to India alone he came as a pilgrim. Well before King, Bayard Rustin (1912-1987), an African America born and raised in Pennsylvania, had trekked to India just months after the assassination of Gandhi to get acquainted with the philosophy of nonviolence.  Rustin’s commitment to nonviolence was nurtured both by his Quaker background and from his early acquaintance—via his grandfather who was a member of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP)—with the leading stalwarts of the African community such as W. E. B. Du Bois and Mary McLeod Bethune.  Rustin had an audience with both Nehru and Patel during his stay, and his biographer Jervis Anderson, Bayard Rustin: Troubles I’ve Seen (New York, 1997) notes that throughout his stay “Rustin did not view his surroundings as with the lens of a tourist camera but identified himself with forms of the national culture. In small towns and villages, he adopted the Indian manner of greeting … Rustin discarded his Western attire in favor of Gandhian calico and sandals. He developed a taste for Indian cuisine. When dining in rural areas, he joyfully squatted on the floor, as his hosts did …” (132).

There is, in Rustin’s first short stay in India, which would be followed in later years by several other trips, something of a precedent in Lawson’s much lengthier sojourn into the heart of India. When Lawson and I met at the Holman church for our conversations between December 2013 -May 2016 which I have described in the previous blog as well as in other essays penned between 2018-20, we conversed about his India years—in much greater detail than he had ever done so before. He had arrived in India in 1953, sixty years before, at my urging, he began to piece together some of his memories.  The India of those days was a desperately poor country facing acute food shortages, but it was nevertheless an electoral democracy and had mounted an extraordinary and little appreciated exercise in universal franchise when it held the world’s largest free election in 1951. The country had been led to independence in 1947 by Gandhi, but he had no use for the highest office in the land, or indeed for any official titles or entitlements, and his close associate Jawaharlal Nehru had assumed power as the country’s first prime minister.  Gandhi outlived independence only by a few months since, on 30 January 1948, he was felled by three bullets fired by an assassin who thought that Gandhi had lived too long.  Nehru, who was still in India when Lawson arrived there in 1953, was one of the principal architects of nonalignment, which may be also viewed as a third space in global politics.

On January 17, 2014, Lawson and I conversed about his years in India and the circumstances that took him to the land of Gandhi; we continued this conversation on January 23. What follows is a highly abbreviated and edited transcript, with interspersed commentary, of our exchange.  Lawson was a minister of the Methodist church and an opportunity had opened for traveling overseas on behalf of the church.  Lawson had opted for Rhodesia; the job then become unavailable, and he was offered a stint in India.

LAL:    When did you leave for India?

LAWSON:      I came out of prison [where he had been sent after refusing to register for service in the armed forces] still in touch with my church in various ways, the summer of ’52.  [He then describes some of his activities in the months preceding his trip by ship, speaking to Methodist student groups.  There was some uncertainty about his visa to India, for “Nehru and the Congress party were tough” on missionaries, though Lawson added: “I don’t blame them for that.  It was the proselytizing and all that stuff that was going on.”  He finally set sail for India in April and thinks he “arrived in Bombay sometime toward the end maybe of April.”]

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Source: James M. Lawson, Jr. Collection, Special Collections, Vanderbilt University, Nashville.

LAL:    I’m assuming that your choice of India was partly if not overwhelmingly dictated by the fact that it was obviously the land of Gandhi.

LAWSON:      Yes, absolutely.

LAL:    Were there other considerations as well that made you pick India rather than let’s say Japan or the Philippines or Hong Kong?

LAWSON:      Oh, no, India was the very first. I said, “I would like to go to India, I’ll go to India.” The job that opened up in India was to go to Hislop College, Nagpur, as campus minister, Physical Ed teacher and coach. It was a missionary school, a Presbyterian school; the president was a David Moses who had his PhD from Harvard in philosophy.  He was a good man. He wanted to introduce American style of coaching and Phys Ed into Hislop. That’s why he connected up with the Methodists to make that happen. I was employed by Hislop College.

[Lawson admitted to me that he knew nothing about Nagpur before he landed there. Nagpur, I informed him, was one of the principal seats of Hindu political orthodoxy or militancy; it was also where, though this is some months after he left India in 1956, B. R. Ambedkar underwent a public conversation to Buddhism and led tens of thousands of Dalits in a mass conversion Buddhism. …]

[I searched in vain for several years for any material that might be found on Lawson’s years at Hislop. Lawson had not retained any papers from his time in India. Then, in 2022, I was introduced to Prantik Banerjee, Professor of English at Hislop, by our mutual friend, Ashis Nandy—who had graduated from Hislop decades ago. It turned out that Professor Banerjee had been an avid follower of my work and had on his shelves at least two of my books, one of them, Fingerprinting Popular Culture: The Mythic and the Iconic in Indian Cinema (Oxford UP, 2005), co-edited with Professor Nandy, and he graciously offered to help. He conducted a diligent search of the dilapidated archives at Hislop and was able to dig up a few issues of the college newspaper where Lawson was mentioned. All of this should certainly be of interest to the future biographer of Lawson. I am grateful to Professor Banerjee for his unstinting help, who shared the images below with me.]

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LAWSON: … I went to India intending that I would do a lot of walking and riding a bicycle. I also did buy some Indian clothing and wore them. For the most part, I rode my bike. I early on linked up with the YMCA which had an entirely Indian staff where one of the guys, Modu Singh, who I’m still occasionally in touch with, became one of my colleagues and close friends and allies in Nagpur. David Moses had an apartment in his colonial bungalow that he lived in—in a compound in Nagpur. He offered that apartment that had its own bath, a patio and large living area to me. I lived there in my first year. I ate at his table.

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James M. Lawson on his bicycle in Nagpur, 1954. Source: James M. Lawson, Jr. Papers, Special Collections, Vanderbilt University Library, Nashville.

LAL:    Oh, I see.

LAWSON:      He served a combination of western and Indian food. That’s where I met my Indian curry (laughs) including also lamb curry because Moses was a Christian. It was a Christian family. They were Presbyterians. They had a son and two daughters maybe…. I did not live in a missionary compound. I lived in this compound that had students and the president’s home and some playing fields and the football field. . . .  I coached football, basketball, and track and field. I did some work with the cricketers on physical training. They were a very elitist group.

LAL:    The cricketers?

LAWSON:      Yeah. (Laughs heartily.). It was very interesting. They were quite an elitist group in the university and in the college. I don’t know if all of them were brown, I don’t remember any of that. They considered themselves the elite.

LAL:    This was in the days before cricket became much more democratized. For example, today, one of the major changes in Indian cricket is that you’ve got players coming from very small towns.

LAWSON:      Yeah, oh, yeah (animatedly).

LAL:    Before they all came from either princely families or the metropolitan centers like Bombay and so on.

LAWSON:      Right, okay. They were the most elitist group and they didn’t begin to warm up to me until I was not the coach or was not the Phys Ed person responsible for that unit. They didn’t warm up to me until I agreed to observe one of their practices which was not too scientific. (Lal laughs.) It was done by students. At some point in the practice, I said, “Let me take a chance at batting.” They were astonished because I hit the ball so far, the cricket ball. It would go … (laughs) I was a good hitter in baseball and softball.

LAL:    You earned their respect, to some degree at least …

LAWSON:  Yeah. When they saw this happening, that I could …

LAL:    … you could whack the ball.

LAWSON:  I could whack the ball. I could also defend myself there against the ball going the wrong way. When they noticed that I had a good eye for batting and that my drives were so far away, they warmed up.

LAL:  Had you held a cricket bat before?

LAWSON:  No, never in my life before. (Laughs heartily.) But, you know, in sports, I was a fairly decent sportsman. In sports, you do, if there’s a sport that attracts you, you do begin to learn how to do it. If you practice that, you’re going to learn very quickly, you’re going to learn well and fast. The batting, it was not like baseball or softball, it was a different bat, different shape. The principles of meeting the ball with that cricket bat were basically the same.

LAL:    Yeah, and the way you eye the ball.

LAWSON:      That’s right, following it, seeing it, being able to coordinate your swing and motion with the ball, the speed of the ball, all of that is very similar. Baseball is much faster. The baseball pitch is a very, very fast pitch.

LAL:    These would have been all Indian students?

LAWSON:      They were all Indian students who were at Hislop.

LAL:    At Hislop, but were they all members of the Methodist Church?

LAWSON:      No, no, the dominant group in the college was Hindu. There was a relatively small group of Christians.

LAL:    Any Muslim students?

LAWSON:      I’m sure there were but I don’t know what the visibility of the Muslim students was.

LAL:    This was a boys’ college or was it coed?

LAWSON:      Oh, no, it was coed.

LAL:    Was it disproportionately male?

LAWSON:      Yes, disproportionately male.

LAL:    The faculty was largely Indian?

LAWSON:      The faculty was largely Indian, so only minority of westerners. The year I came, it would have been ’53-’54 academic year, President Moses had also enticed a Fulbright program of journalism. There was a white journalist whose family I came to know very well. In fact, I’ve had conversations in the last five years with that daughter who was 12 or 13 at the time.

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James Lawson, seated third from the right, with the football team at Hislop College, Nagpur. Source: James M. Lawson, Jr. Papers, Vanderbilt University Special Collections, Nashville.

[The conversation slowly veered toward the Cold War and the resentment that was building up in the United States against Nehru who was, from the American standpoint, rather arrogant and not wholly receptive to overtures from the US to steer clear of the Soviets. Lawson says that, as an American, albeit an African American one, he was viewed with some suspicion—perhaps as a plant of the CIA. John Foster Dulles had arrived in India when Lawson was there to get India’s support for the South Atlantic Treaty Organization (SEATO), but Nehru had given Dulles the cold shoulder.  Lawson recalled that he told the students, much to their astonishment, that he wholly supported Nehru. Let us hear him in his own voice:  as he told me, “by that time I was bitterly opposed to the Cold War. I knew that this white-dominated policy, though I may not have said so at that moment, largely western, white, imperialistic policy was wrong and is destructive and couldn’t help India, couldn’t help Africa, couldn’t help anywhere in the world.  Of course, now I’m harder about it. Now I’m of the mind that communism as spoken in the United States is simply another way of calling a person a nigger or a wetback or a bitch or a jack or a kike or a wop or a chink. I am now persuaded that that language in the United States is only another expression of our despising certain people in the world. It has nothing to do with the human scene except to control and dominate it and, if possible, divide it. That experience I should never forget.”]

[We continued to speak about the various ways in which American foreign policy had been wrongheaded.  Lawson then recalled the time in 1968 that he had met John Foster Dulles, in Uppsala. The conversation again drifted back to India, to his travels and to the people he met. I asked him if he saw any other African Americans in India. He then narrated a story which, as far as I’m aware, he had never told before nor did he recount it later to anyone else. I wind up this piece with our exchange following that story, though of course our conversation did not end there—an exchange which, I believe, offers genuine insights into how to think about, especially, “minorities” and “majorities”.]

LAWSON: … I had a very interesting introduction to Nagpur when I got there which was probably August [1963]. I was told by David Moses and others as I got myself acquainted with people that various things that I would need for the apartment—I could get them a general store that was in the center of the city.

This is very interesting. It was a sizeable store for that day. My first visit there, I come in this main door and the store is like this, it’s a box. [Lawson gestures with his hands.] I come in the main door, and I can see down the other aisle the counter in the back and behind it is a brown-skinned man with what I thought to have been an Islamic hat, a red cap.

As he sees me coming in the door, he disappears. As I come on into the store where the shelves are, these huge shelves that were filled with merchandise or something like that, he comes out and greets me and says, “You are a negro American?” I said yes. He put his arms around me and said, “We are brothers.” I’ve never forgotten that. We are brothers. He was a Muslim. We are brothers, just like that. (Laughs.)

LAL:    What inference did you make from his remarks, at that time?

LAWSON:  At that time?  Mostly that we are one. We are human beings. We belong to the same people. I didn’t see that as an issue of color as much as I saw it as a moral commitment, moral enterprise.

LAL:    I wondered if he might have been thinking that you are a minority within the US much as he is a minority within India. Do you think he might have been thinking something of that kind? Surely if he asked you, “Are you a negro American?”, then what’s the salience of that observation? Something is brewing there, what that might be is not entirely clear.

LAWSON:  You’re asking a very good question. This is 1953. I don’t think I at all thought about he’s saying to me I am Muslim and a minority in India. I don’t think he was saying that.  I never thought that. That may be me, but I did think much more in terms of his acknowledging our common humanity.

LAL:    Some notion of brotherhood.

LAWSON:  That’s right, which is how I took it and received it.

LAL:  Indeed, I think you were quite likely right in taking it that way.  I was partly offering a provocation here because actually the idea of thinking of ourselves—whether African American or Muslim or let’s say Chicano—thinking of ourselves as minorities, this is in fact a modern kind of political arithmetic.

LAWSON:  Of course, I’ve never liked the term minority. Ethnic minority. I’ve never accepted that term personally. I’ve never accepted it even as a political sociological term to describe anything because I don’t think it describes very much. I have much preferred speaking of Mexican Americans, speaking of Indians, speaking of Japanese Americans. I much prefer it, being more specific, than ethnic minorities.

In another way, for a long, long time, I have recognized that our complexions as African Americans or Black Americans in the United States—that puts us in the majority of complexions of the world.  (Laughs.)  For how long … but I’ve recognized for a long time we got the Chinese and we got the Africans, we got the Latin Americans. (Laughs.)

LAL:    Yeah, we’re part of the majority world.

LAWSON:  That’s right. I’m not a minority in the world at all.…

Readers will find several other essays on this blog on James M. Lawson written over a period of several years. They can use the search function by just typing in his name.

The Grand Architect of American Nonviolence: Recollections of the Rev. James Lawson, 1928-2024

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The Reverend James Lawson, unquestionably one of the greatest exponents of nonviolent resistance in the history of the United States, passed on June 9 this year after a brief illness. Lawson was, to put it simply, a gem of a person: I often heard him described as a ‘national treasure’, and that he was; at the same time, I have always had misgivings about this phrase when used in reference to a person, invoking as it does the notion of something like a trophy, as well as something that we put away for safekeeping. Lawson was much more than a ‘national treasure’:  he was a totally moral person, but not in the least moralistic; a man of such tremendous dignity, charisma, and integrity that one knew that one had come in the presence of someone who was nothing less than majestic.

I received the news of Lawson’s passing with sadness and yet stoicism—the latter because, at the age of 95, he had lived a long and good life. Death is, after all, the one inescapable fact of life—though, of course, this one putatively ‘inescapable’ fact is precisely what everyone attempts to dodge, evade, deny, and resist. In what is doubtless one of the most glorious moments of the Mahabharata—a work so rich that one lifetime seems inadequate to absorb its insights and storytelling techniques—in an episode described as the ‘Yaksha Prasna’, or the ‘Questions of the Crane’, Yudhisthira is asked, ‘What is the greatest wonder of the world’? His reply, just as breathtaking now as when I first came upon the passages decades ago, is merely this:  Every day, we see and hear of countless number of people dying around us. Yet one thinks and acts as if one will continue to live forever.

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The Rev. James Lawson delivering the funeral oration for John Lewis, Atlanta, 30 July 2020.

There were signs that lately Rev. Lawson had not been keeping well:  for some decades, he conducted on the fourth Saturday of each month a workshop on nonviolence at the Holman United Methodist United, where he had served as pastor for twenty-five years before being ‘appointed’ pastor emeritus, but during Covid these workshops moved online. After the pandemic was, in a manner of speaking, declared at an end in late 2021 the workshops continued online, but had become irregular.  Over the course of the last year, the workshop had moved to a hybrid format, and in the last few months they had been cancelled altogether.  Clearly, something was amiss.

The life of Lawson, in its most skeletal form, is available on many internet sites and has been recounted in the obituaries published in major newspapers and on media outlets. I will, therefore, not recount it here. In this short essay, the first of several pieces intended to be a tribute to this man who was a colossus amongst us, I would like to share my recollections of the Rev. Lawson. From December 2013 until mid-2016, we met at the Holman church on thirteen occasions to engage in conversations about his life, his time in India, the course of the American Civil Rights movement, Gandhi and nonviolence, America and empire, African American history, the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa, struggles for social justice, and various other subjects. Several times in the course of our conversations, Lawson, in describing the circumstances that first brought him face-to-face with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, made it all but clear that he much preferred the expression, “I first shook hands with Dr. King”, to the more conventional, “I first met him ….”  In like fashion, I might say that I first shook hands with Lawson on 28 February 1998 at the Cerritos Public Library in Southern California.  It was a Sunday, but scarcely lazy, afternoon.  The occasion for our encounter was a panel discussion, at which both of us were among four invited speakers, organized by the Los Angeles-based Coalition for an Egalitarian and Pluralistic India, on “Nonviolence, Social Change and the Future:  The Legacy of Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King.”  A report on the proceedings appeared in the pages of the newspaper, India West (6 March 1988, p. A31), published from San Leandro, and its author describes Rev. Lawson, then pastor of the Holman United Methodist Church in Los Angeles, as a “special guest” who unhesitatingly characterized Gandhi’s legacy as a “key” to his own “development”.  According to the report, Lawson gave it as his view that Gandhi “was more right than wrong” in his assessment of Western civilization, and he did not doubt that Gandhi would have agreed that the contemporary global economy is “a huge plantation with a few people at the top . . . that destroys all people below.” 

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Twenty-five years later, I am struck by the fact that Lawson was already speaking forcefully of the worldwide damage wrought by “plantation capitalism”, the term that he made his own. But I will aver to this matter in a subsequent piece.  We were joined together that day in February 1998 by Joseph Prabhu, then a professor of philosophy at California State University, Northridge, and Sudarshan Kapur, author of Raising Up the Prophet (1992), perhaps the first book length-study of the African American encounter with Gandhi.  In reading the report of the exchange of views that took place, I am also struck by the near prescience with which Lawson apparently concluded his remarks.  “I fear for this land”, he told his spellbound audience, since short of a larger and more ecumenical vision of society, the United States faced the possibility of a “revolution by the theocrats” in the name of “white privilege” that would surpass anything conceived by Adolf Hitler and the Nazis.  Only the principles of nonviolence espoused by Gandhi and King promised “a way out”.  The late afternoon session was followed by dinner at the home of my friend and one of the co-founders of our community organization, the cardiologist Dr. Syed Samee, and the same animated spirit with which Lawson had spoken earlier in the day infused our dinner conversations.  Though I did not know it then, Lawson was no stranger to Indian cuisine.

Though Lawson had left an extraordinary impression on everyone gathered that day, not least on me, it would be another decade, I think, before our paths crossed again. Life takes over, to use the common expression, and I went my way.  As I reflect on my undergraduate years, now well more than four decades ago, I am certain that I never came across the name of Rev. Lawson, though I was rather familiar with some of the stalwarts of the struggle, including Dr. King, Bayard Rustin, and even Dick Gregory.  I even had a private dinner with Rustin as an undergraduate student—but that is a story for another occasion. I must have encountered Lawson’s name for the first time shortly after my arrival in the Los Angeles area in 1993.  Lawson makes an appearance albeit a brief one in Sudarshan Kapur’s book, and though Kapur, whom I had hosted at my home when he had visited to take part in the 1998 symposium, had presented me with a copy, I had not read it diligently.  If I had done so, I would have run across his assessment that “nonviolent trainers such as James Lawson and Bayard Rustin proved central to the ultimate success of the modern African American freedom movement.” Fortuitously, however, Lawson and I would share the stage together again on 29 January 2006 at “a season of nonviolence”, a forum organized by the NAACP, the Interfaith Communities United for Justice & Peace (ICUJP), and the South Coast Interfaith Council, and by this time I was rather more immersed in the literature of the civil rights movement.  Though it is after this encounter with him that I started giving some thought to how I might engage him in a lengthier exchange, the following year I relocated to India for 18 months as Director of the University of California Education Abroad Program in India, and I returned to India for another stint during 2010-12, this time as a professor of history at the University of Delhi.

It is in late 2013, more than a year after my return to the US, that I devolved upon the plan of approaching Lawson with the intent of engaging him in four conversations and piecing together from those exchanges an account of his life, his view of the events of the 1960s which he had a critically important role in shaping, and a larger narrative about his lifelong engagement with nonviolence.  I had an inkling at that time, though it is our conversations that would cement this view, that Lawson was distinct among African American intellectuals, activists, and public figures in the single-minded attention and care that he had lavished upon the thought of Gandhi.  Over lunch one afternoon in late November 2013, he agreed to make himself available for these conversations, but our very first meeting a couple of weeks later left me in no doubt that we would need rather more than four meetings of around 90 minutes each. We eventually had thirteen formal conversations, some of them nearly three hours long; our last recorded conversation dates to 16 May 2016.  We met intermittently after that, sometimes for lunch and sometimes at platforms that increasingly we shared together, and meanwhile I continued to read the literature on the movement. 

On 30 January 2020, just before the pandemic struck, Lawson delivered the inaugural address that opened a four-day international conference on the moral and political thought of Gandhi that I had organized at the UCLA campus entitled “Truth and Nonviolence in Post-Truth Times.” He spoke on “Gandhi and the Longer, Bitter, Beautiful Struggle for Justice and Truth.” Lawson never, in all my experience, read from notes: whatever he spoke came from the depth of his own experience, and from a lifetime of the serious study of nonviolence movements around the world, particularly the thought of Gandhi. His audience that evening consisted of some faculty and students at UCLA, the speakers invited to the conference—including some of the most recognized names worldwide in the scholarship on Gandhi—and perhaps two dozen or so people from the local South Asian community. He left everyone spell-bound:  though Lawson had a booming voice, the voice of a black American preacher, he started on a softer note but some ten minutes into his talk he began to expostulate in the easy, self-assured, riveting manner, punctuated always by hearty laughs, that he had made his own.  His talk was largely on Gandhi, but the American “civil rights movement”, which he sometimes hesitated to describe as such, calling it more often the “Rosa Parks-ML King Movement”, featured prominently in his remarks. Lawson was firmly of the view that Gandhi had played a distinct and unique role in history: in his estimation, he was the first person in history to have made a scientific study of nonviolence just as he was the first person to bring nonviolence into the vocabulary and conversation of everyday life.

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The author and Rev. James Lawson at UCLA, February 2020

Many people will surely recall the searing and brilliant oration that Lawson delivered at the death of his friend and protégé, Congressman John Lewis–and this at the height of the pandemic. “Christian Love”, Lawson said, has “power that we have never been tapped and if we use it, we can transform not only our lives but we will transform the earth in which we live.” He considered it providential that, as Lawson moved to Nashville in the late 1950s, a host of women and men, including Lewis, serendipitously gathered there to dedicate their lives in the long, bitter, yet beautiful pursuit, through satyagraha or soul-force, of truth and justice. I consider it nothing less than providential that Lawson came into my life, offered his friendship, and gave me so much of his time. There were others in my circles, too, who benefited from this association, and in 2018 some of us came together, in a community event, to honor him with a “Lifetime Achievement Award for the Practice of Nonviolence.”  To the end of his life, Lawson held to his unswerving belief that the rigorous, disciplined, and ethical use of nonviolence had the power to transform the world.  His life and his belief are his legacy to the world.

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Readers are also invited to view my earlier posts on Rev. Lawson at this site, among others:

“The Birth of a Nonviolent Activist” (23 September 2020), here.

“Adolescence and Lessons from Home and the World” (24 September 2020), here.

“Gandhi and the Education of James M. Lawson” (25 September 2020), here.

Violence at UCLA: Open Letter to Chancellor Gene Block

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3 May 2024

Chancellor Gene Block
University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA)

Dear Chancellor Block:

On the night of April 30, just before 11 PM, a violent and armed mob comprised of something like 100-150 “outside instigators” or “counter-protestors” entered the Palestine Solidarity Encampment which had been built at Dickson Plaza on the UCLA Campus, and unleashed horrific violence on the students, faculty, and staff in the encampment. According to multiple reports from various news outlets, none of which are disputed, this mob used sticks and other objects to beat the protestors who were offering nonviolent resistance and threw fireworks and metal barriers into the barricades in an attempt to breach the barricades. This grisly violence went on unchecked for nearly four hours. It is also not disputed, and once again this claim is attested to reports by multiple witnesses, that the campus police stood by idly while violence was being let loose upon the students.  Such an egregious dereliction of duty, indeed encouragement of violence, must be weighed against repeated assurances given by you that you value nothing more than the safety of students and everyone else from the “Bruin community”. You apparently called the mayor of Los Angeles around 1 am on May 1st and it is not until 3 am that the LAPD and other police offers moved in and sought to separate the mob from the protestors in the encampment.

This round of violence, in which the complete abdication of duty and moral responsibility on the part of the UCLA administration headed by you is all too transparent to any observer, and to which I shall return momentarily, was followed by the events of the morning of May 2nd starting around 2 am.  For nearly the entire day of Wednesday, May 1, the campus had been turned into a garrison or police state. I was on campus for most of the day and left the campus around 12:40 am and saw well over 150 policemen armed to the teeth and apparently prepared for civil war.  Then, about 2 am, this horde of policemen moved in, and over the next two hours they deployed rubber bullets, stun grenades, and flash-bang devices to forcibly remove the protestors, place them under arrest, and dismantle the encampment. Rubber bullets, in case you are not aware, have been used in intense political disturbances such as “The Troubles” in Ireland.  Apart from a miniscule number of minor skirmishes, all the protestors nonviolently submitted to arrest. It is necessary for me to add that, in describing them as nonviolent protestors, I am speaking as a scholar of the history of nonviolence who has been writing and teaching on these matters for close to four decades. I am aware that, weighed against the most stringent and rigorous conception of nonviolent resistance, the protestors may not always have passed the test, but all scholars and students of nonviolence are equally mindful of the fact that we cannot apply a wholly purist conception of nonviolence to every situation. There is not an iota of doubt in my mind that the protestors displayed an extraordinary and disciplined adherence, all the more remarkable for their youth, to the principles of nonviolence.

The events at UCLA have shocked not merely the campus community and the city of Los Angeles but many others around the world who are aware of the reputation of the university and have been following the student protests.  There are many reasons for the outbreak of violence and the events the last 60 hours, and there is certainly much blame to go around, but there is one person, and one person alone, who is principally responsible for this tragic turn of events—and that one person is you, Chancellor Gene Block. You cannot run away from this fact, however much you have tried to do so and will doubtless continue to do so, but it is important that everyone understand your culpability. Your naked partisanship towards Israel and Zionism, and your scarcely disguised indifference to, if not contempt for, Palestinians, Arabs, and Muslims has been transparent since you arrived on this campus ten years ago, and has become painfully visible to everyone in the aftermath of the horrific attack launched by Hamas against Israel on October 7.

I shall turn, very briefly, to some considerations to make known to the world the way you abandoned UCLA’s students to the wolves.  You’ve spoken often in your usual anodyne language of “shared values”, the “Bruin community”, the “Bruin family”, and so on, but let us consider whether such language has ever been anything more than sheer humbug and chicanery.  Consider, for instance, your statement to the “Bruin Community” of October 13.  The subject heading was, “Reflections at the Close of a Difficult Week.”  The first sentence begins with an expression of your desire to share some “reflections” on a “challenging week”.  You then mention that “six days ago” a “heinous assault was perpetrated upon Israeli civilians by the terror organization Hamas, a despicable attack that included the killing of children and the elderly as well as the taking of innocent hostages.” I concur with you entirely, but you then point out this what happened on October 7 was “the largest one-day killing of Jews since the end of the Holocaust.”  This is not the time and place for a history lesson, but let me alert you to the fact that even many of the most reputable scholars of the Holocaust, and you are most emphatically not one, have pointed out how inadvisable it is to make such a comparison, and many have even argued that there is grave peril in exploiting the narrative of the Holocaust to confer perpetual immunity to the state of Israel for any and every kind of action it deems fit. But let us ignore all this: by October 13th, Israel had already inflicted massive and illegal collective punishment on the Palestinians, destroyed large chunks of Gaza, and killed thousands of Palestinian civilians, most of them women and children.  Yes, I suppose all this made for a “difficult” and “challenging” week. Indeed, your very framing of the mass killings of Palestinians as producing a “challenging” time, while of course the attack perpetrated by Palestinians was “heinous” (which, let me reiterate, it indeed was), is an incitement to hatred for Palestinians.  As for the “hostages”, I will not refer to the tens of thousands of Palestinians, many of them but boys, who have been languishing in Israeli jails under the grossly inhumane practice of administrative detention, which allows Israel to hold them in confinement for indefinite periods of time without charging them.

Let me, however, turn to the chronology of the last 2-3 days alone. You declared the encampment “unlawful” and “unauthorized” on the afternoon of April 30, and less than twelve hours later the violent mob tore into the protestors at the encampment.  It is not at all difficult to imagine that they construed your declaration of the encampment as “unlawful” and the warning to the students to take it down as a green light to proceed to expedite the outcome that you desired. As I have suggested, you have persistently been throwing dog whistles at Islamophobes, racists, and Zionists, and it is also remarkable that repeated letters addressed to you by faculty concerned about this incitement to hatred against Palestinians and Muslims were never answered.  Perhaps you think that it is beneath you to reply to faculty, though you periodically mouth the customary platitudes about “shared governance”. Did you take the faculty into consideration before you declared the encampment “unlawful” and threatened that it would be taken down? I am not aware that you did. And, similarly, did you consult with the faculty before you summoned a massive police force—an ungainly sight if there ever was any, and one that should mortify anyone who thinks of the university as a home to the exchange of ideas and as “temple” of learning—to take down the encampment and arrest the students? But, to return to the chronology of events, the newspapers reported just a couple of days ago that you have been summoned to testify before the US Congress on May 23 on anti-Semitism at the UCLA campus.  You saw, as we all did, how a McCarthy-like inquisition was unleashed upon the presidents of three Ivy League institutions a few months ago, and the painful consequences two of them had to bear as a result of the congressional hearing.  You were determined to prove that you could stand up to the protestors.  And so, of course, this meant that you were determined to show to the students that you meant business.

Many canards and fabrications have been floated by you, your acolytes and the extreme Zionists on this campus.  One of those canards, which constitutes the principal justification you have advanced for your actions, is that many students were blocked from entering classrooms or were obstructed in their day-to-day business around campus.  No evidence has been furnished by you or anyone else: one student appears in nearly every media video showing that he was obstructed, and one might even allow for the possibility that a few were, but those of us who have been teaching on the campus and speaking with others have witnessed no such incidents nor have we heard of any. This is yet another instance of the cheap, instrumental, and deplorable use of the term “anti-Semitism”—which, let me be very clear, is a real problem in this country—to tarnish protestors.  The sad part of the story is that the protestors understand very well, as you apparently do not, the difference between anti-Semitism, which I agree should be condemned unequivocally at every turn, and anti-Zionism.  The fabrication about the threats being experienced by Jewish students became one of the principal justifications for deploying a massive police force on campus and terrorizing and intimidating students. No one can fail to notice that, when the police were needed on the night of April 30, they were nowhere to be found; when they were not required at all the following night, had the protest been allowed to continue, they were deployed with your authorization. As Nithya Raman, Los Angeles City Council member for the 4th District has noted, “The police actions at USC and UCLA have implied that the response protestors get from law enforcement is dependent on their politics, not their actions.”  Senator Bernie Sanders has described what is happening in Gaza as “ethnic cleansing”. I will allow you to draw your own inferences on what I might possibly mean in invoking Senator Sanders in describing the turns of events on our campus.

You, doubtless, are aware of the clear-headed editorial of May 1 published in The Daily Bruin which describes the attack by the police on student journalists and the “complicity” of the UCLA administration.  Please do not rub salt into the wounds of the students by arguing, as you have been doing all along, that you are acting to protect the campus from anti-Semitism and to ensure the “safety” of the students.  “The whole world is watching”, says the editorial, and the whole world also knows the donors and politicians to whom you are beholden.  Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu had the audacity, several days ago, to demand that the National Guard be called in to crush the protestors and you evidently appear to have been all too happy to take your marching orders from this much-reviled foreign leader.  You may wish to reflect on the indubitable fact that there has throughout been a significant presence of Jewish faculty, staff, and students in the encampment, and Jewish voices for peace have been important in ensuring that the world understands that the war in Gaza is a war against humanity.  Many of the Jewish protestors, it appears to me, are speaking from an awareness of the deeply rooted ethical traditions in their faith and an attack on them is, in fact, the real anti-Semitism in which you may be complicit.  Nothing gives the lie to the claim that the protests were marked by anti-Semitism as much as the solidarity of Muslim and Jewish protestors, though what is equally remarkable is the extraordinary commitment to the cause displayed by people from all walks of life, nationalities, religious backgrounds, and ethnicities who are not being driven by a narrow-minded conception of identity politics. If you have seen the videos of the encampments at UCLA and at other university campuses, and videos on the anti-war protests more broadly, you could not have failed to notice the very large, indeed I would say almost dominant, presence of women and female students of color from all backgrounds. They have been at the forefront of this movement which, quite rightly, speaks of an alternative and better future.  It is precisely this aspiration that the administration has sought to crush at UCLA.

Since, in the tradition of nonviolence, I do not like to use the language whereby one makes demands of others, and who am I in any case to make demands of a powerful person such as yourself, I would like to invite you to take the steps enumerated below if you have any sense of contrition.  Though I have no expectations in this regard, I invite you to (1) issue an unconditional apology to the entire UCLA community, and specifically to those in the Palestine Solidarity Encampment who have been harmed; (2) issue whatever rejoinders you can muster in the form of an open letter; (3) pay for the medical treatments borne by the students who were injured in the violence; and (4) tender your resignation, effective immediately.  I would be amiss if I did not suggest to you, considering that you end nearly every letter to the “Bruin community” with suggestions about counseling resources, that you undertake intensive sensitivity and anti-racist training.

Yours sincerely,

Vinay Lal
Professor of History and Asian American Studies

Israel, US, the same old

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Note (28 April 2024): On March 28, I received an email from one of the opinion page editors at The Indian Express asking if I might write an essay on the US vote of abstention in the Security Council on a resolution calling for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza and whether such a vote could be interpreted as a shift in the American position towards Israel. The resolution passed 14-0, with the United States, which is of course a permanent member of the Security Council, casting the only vote of abstention. But the US had, uncharacteristically, not vetoed the resolution, as it had done repeatedly in the past. I submitted my essay a week later but it was published, both in print and online, on April 14 on p. 11 (or see the online edition where it appeared under the title of “The US support for Israel, contrary to opinion, is as strong as ever”). As the online title suggests, I argued that the various opinions that had been voiced suggesting that the US support for Israel was diminishing or might no longer be taken for granted were entirely mistaken and overblown. Events since March 25 and indeed down to the present day have established, as I argued, that the US support for Israel remains, to use the words of Biden and countless number of officials of his administration, “iron-clad”. To think that it might be otherwise, if the US is provoked to breaking-point by Israeli intransigence or arrogance, is to show little understanding of the American establishment’s rigid attachment for Israel. To be sure, some–and some only, let it be clear–of these officials are, in private, anti-Semitic; but their Islamophobic sentiments run still deeper. Similarly, one can be certain that we will continue to hear American officials voice “uneasiness” with Israel’s policies, “discontent” and “dismay” at Israeli arrogance and the impunity with which Israel will continue to ignore the entire world and do what it pleases, and so on. All of American expressions of displeasure are hot air, and just that. A few will object to my remarks with the observation that it is only US restraint that stopped Israel from clobbering Iran. That observation may not be without merit, but to concede that much is not to admit that the US does in fact exercise real restraining power over Israel. One cannot ignore the much larger geopolitical implications of an outright war between Israel and Iran. In any case, the essay below is the slightly longer version of the piece that was published in the Indian Express: as noted above, it is dated only in the sense that other events since in the last few weeks amply demonstrate that the US remains unflinchingly supportive of Israel and therefore complicit in the genocide unfolding in Gaza.

On March 25, during a discussion in the UN Security Council, the United States did something highly unusual:  it abstained from a resolution that had been introduced calling for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza. The United States had vetoed similar resolutions in the past, arguing that it would not permit any step that might impede Israel’s right to self-defense.  When it last exercised its veto power on February 20, the US justified its action with the observation that any call for a ceasefire perforce had to be linked to the release of all Israeli hostages from Palestinian custody.

Israel’s Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, immediately pronounced the US abstention a “retreat” from the unstinting support that Israel has received from the onset of the present iteration of a conflict that effectively goes back to the founding of Israel in 1948.  As a mark of his displeasure, indeed of his alleged surprise that the US should in any way be signifying a shift in its position of unfettered support towards Israel, Netanyahu cancelled a planned visit by an Israeli delegation to the US to discuss Israel’s imminent invasion of Rafah. Netanyahu and Israel’s military planners have argued that the assault on Rafah is required to eliminate Hamas’s remaining battalions; the United States, importantly, questions not Israel’s right to defend its integrity as a nation-state, but only whether Israel has put into place a comprehensive plan that would guarantee the safety of Palestinian civilians.

Many commentators point to the US vote of abstention, as well as other recent developments such as criticism of Netanyahu by US Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer and his call for elections in Israel—angrily dismissed by Netanyahu in a sharply worded rejoinder, “We are not a banana republic—as significant milestones in what is alleged to be an evolving relationship between Israel and the United States.  The diplomatic editor of the highly regarded The Guardian, for instance, described the American decision to abstain as far more than a ruckus over “some words in the text of a UN resolution: it marks another moment in the painful, almost anguished US diplomatic distancing from its chief ally in the Middle East.”

The terrain appears to have shifted quickly and considerably in the last several weeks: having vetoed UN Security Council resolutions thrice, the US was doubtless finding that it, too, was repeatedly being pushed alongside Israel into being part of a miniscule minority.  Indeed, before it abstained from the resolution calling for an immediate ceasefire, the US had introduced its own resolution—only to see it being shot down by China and Russia, which pointed out that the American initiative was more of a condemnation of Hamas rather than a demand for a ceasefire. Tensions have been rising between Israel and the US over the pace and scope of humanitarian aid, especially in the face of the imminent starvation of Palestinians on a large scale. Most recently, the death of seven aid workers from World Central Kitchen in a targeted strike by the Israel Defense Force (IDF) has ratcheted up the American pressure against Israel. 

Might one conclude, then, that something significant has altered in the special relationship that Israel has enjoyed with the US since its founding?  Reportedly, even as these lines are being penned, and following on what has been described as a tense call between Biden and Netanyahu, Israel has finally succumbed to the US pressure to open up new aid routes to Gaza. There is ample reason to think that American frustration with Israeli intransigence has been growing and some suspect that Israel may no longer enjoy unconditional support in the United Nations and more broadly the court of world public opinion. Moreover, the brute fact is that, as an electoral democracy, political parties are subject to the vagaries of shifting political sentiments.  The more “progressive” sections within the Democratic party have been arguing that arms sales to Israel must be tied to the immediate cessation of hostilities and much higher standards of accountability on the part of Israel. University campuses have been rocked by unrest over the Biden administration’s policies; more importantly, both recent polls and Democratic primaries being held in the run-up to the presidential election in November suggest that Biden is in grave danger of losing the support of Arab-American constituencies.

I would argue, however, that analyses which portend a significant shift in the US support of Israel are not merely premature but have failed to capture the pulse that animates the US-Israel relationship. Israel has, previous to this war, been the recipient of over $150 billion in American largesse, or something like $3.8 billion annually; it also has access to advanced American war technologies and weapon systems. If the pro-Palestinian demonstrators have appeared to make a splash on university campuses, it is only because the forces that lobby for both Jewish and Israeli interests have so long dominated the American university system that one barely heard of support for Palestine.  The charge of anti-Semitism remains the most potent weapon that can be deployed on behalf of Israel. The indubitable fact is that Israel is held up, by Democrats and Republicans alike, not merely as the only real friend it has in the Middle East but as the only democracy in the region. It is immaterial to this argument whether Israel is, in fact, a “democracy”:  the fact that some of its citizens have enjoyed liberties ordinarily associated with democratic states cannot obscure the other reality, namely that Israel has been an occupying power for decades and that Palestinians exist in a state of manifest and dire subjugation.

There is another and yet still more vital consideration.  I have elsewhere argued that there is a certain synergy between Israel and the United States as settler-colonial states. A messianic spirit has long informed American self-perception and guided US foreign policy: as every post-World War II American president has declared at one time or the other, the belief that America is “the one indispensable nation” is intrinsic to American exceptionalism. Israel is far from having the gumption of saying the same explicitly about itself, but the state of Israel conducts itself with the supreme confidence that it exercises a moral purchase over the rest of humanity. It does so, of course, on the presumption that the murder of six million Jews gives the Jewish state of Israel a special place in history—and the unconstrained and unquestioned right to oppress others in the name of “self-defense”.  Given this synergy, it is doubtful in the extreme that anything substantive has at all changed in the US-Israel relationship or is even likely to change in the near future.

Israel:  A Pitiable, Pathetic, Paper Tiger

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Vinay Lal

Israel has long flaunted its military prowess and much of the world has believed it. After all, the small Jewish state, foisted upon the Palestinians by a Europe that could not find a way to accommodate the gifted, liberal, often supremely enlightened, and enterprising Jewish people, defeated a coalition of Palestinian Arabs, Syrians, and Egyptians in 1948-49 and secured its independence. Then, in 1967, in what is called the six-day war, Israel took the wind out of the sails of the Arab states—largely Jordan, Syria, and Egypt—and rightfully claimed a conclusive and momentous victory, even taking the Golan Heights, the West Bank, the Gaza Strip, and the Sinai Peninsula into its possession. Though its military triumphs would scarcely be as decisive in more recent decades, and Israel and Hezbollah fought to a standstill in 2006 after a bitter monthlong war, Israel’s military has nonetheless continued to enjoy a reputation as a great disciplined and professional force.  The reputation that Israel enjoys as a no-nonsense state, one that allegedly knows how to deal with terrorists, may be gauged by the fact that its retired generals enjoy sinecures and consultancies in countries such as India.

However, the present conflict between Hamas and Israel shows Israel for what it truly is:  a pitiable, pathetic, paper tiger. Such a description will appear surprising, perhaps somewhat absurd, to most considering that, after Hamas’s attack on Israel on 7 October 2023, Israel at once declared war and in quick order began a relentless attack from the air upon the entire population of Gaza. By the end of 2023 alone, Israel had dropped, according to the Gaza Media Office, 45,000 bombs weighing more than 65,000 tons, or more four times the tonnage of the atomic bomb that eviscerated Hiroshima.  Moreover, less than a month after Hamas went on the offensive, Israel commenced operations on the ground.  By January 24, on the World Bank’s estimate, 45% of the residential buildings in Gaza had been destroyed by the Israel Defense Force (IDF), though The Times of Israel reported, on 30 December 2023, that 70% of the homes in Gaza had been destroyed or damaged.  Now, in early March, that figure is certainly much higher; indeed, as many reports suggest, Gaza is practically uninhabitable.  This appears to be the response of an aggressive, vengeful, muscular nation-state, not a paper tiger.

Let us, nevertheless, consider what Israel’s short-term war aims have been and whether its achievements thus far, as well as it military actions, have been congruent with those war aims. We will not take into consideration the precipitous decline of its international reputation, if only because Israel, to be blunt about it, is largely indifferent to its reputation. It has habitually considered most of the world to be hostile to both the Jewish state and Jews, though of course many who are not sympathetic to the Jewish state do not hold the same views with regards to the Jewish people; more importantly, it is arrogant enough to think that its virtuous righteousness is enough to sustain it in the face of an onslaught from the rest of the world.  We may, thus, confine ourselves to Israel’s stated war objectives, the two principal ones being the rescue of the hostages taken by Hamas (and Islamic Jihad) and the complete annihilation of Hamas.  In early February, Israel reported that it had destroyed 17-18 out of Hamas’ 24 batallions, and Netanyahu has on several occasions boasted that Israel is well on the way to “total victory”.  The BBC reported at the end of February that the Israeli embassy in the UK estimated that it had killed 10,000-12,000 Hamas fighters.  Hamas has not corroborated those figures and the verification of estimates provided by IDF is nearly impossible, all the more so since just who constitutes a “Hamas fighter” is far from clear.  Let us recall that none other than the President of Israel, Isaac Herzog, less than a week into the war, declared at a press conference that “it is an entire nation out there that is responsible”:  if there are no innocent civilians, then one reasonable inference is that, from the Israeli standpoint, every civilian is a potential terrorist—and that, moreover, every civilian is a legitimate target. It is not hard to fathom why Israel can, on this reasoning, conduct a merciless war against civilians with the self-assurance of utter impunity, but let me return to this point later.

Just exactly how fighters are to be distinguished from civilians is but one problem.  Let us now, however, turn to the conduct of the war and assess Israel’s “achievements”.  A few days after the onset of the war, I wrote on the very pages of this blog an article suggesting that, with or without the support of the United States, Israel would exact a terrible vengeance and pulverize Gaza. Of course, to conduct a protracted war, Israel must doubtless rely on a continuing supply of arms and ammunition from the United States. Hamas has similarly been aided with occasional rocket launches fired by Hezbollah, but unlike the state of Israel, which for its size has a formidable army and receives the highest-grade weapons from the US, Hamas has neither any aircraft nor any tanks. The first intifada of 1987-1993 is also known as the “stone intifada” for nothing:  it was waged largely by the young with stones and captured the world’s imagination. The present resistance has gone well beyond stones, even if Hamas has in other ways displayed the ingenuity of the besieged Palestinians, but it is still nevertheless true that the gulf between the military power that Israel has brought to bear upon the Palestinians and the resources that Hamas can wield is enormous.  Hamas is practically a guerilla fighting force and, as countless number of articles have shown, it developed an extraordinary—one might call it, purely from the engineering standpoint, wondrous—system of tunnels which appear to constitute a veritable city.  These tunnels, running for hundreds of miles, were used to ship arms, ferry people from one part of Gaza to another, and much else:  as the Modern War Institute at West Point points out in a report, “Israeli forces have unearthed massive invasion tunnels two and a half miles long, underground manufacturing plants, luxury tunnels with painted walls, tile floors, ceiling fans, and air conditioning, and a complex, layered, labyrinth underneath all areas of Gaza.”

Underground Gaza, as it is sometimes called, was built under the noses of the Israelis. The failures of Israeli military intelligence have obviously been colossal:  what to speak of the fact that Hamas literally blew its way into Israeli settlements, Israel appears to have had little knowledge of the complexity and enormity of Hamas’s tunnel city.  Besides aircraft, sophisticated drone systems, missiles, radar system, the Iron Dome air defense system, tanks, and military intelligence, Israel is also an apparent pioneer in cyberwar, and there is good reason to think that Israel was responsible for the cyberattack that disabled the electricity grid in portions of Iran some weeks ago.  So, considering the vast arsenal that Israel has at its disposal, just what has it achieved of its stated war goals?  First, as I have already suggested above, there is little reason to believe that Hamas has been nearly obliterated. If it has been, one might also ask why north Gaza, where IDF spent three months flattening the landscape and reducing the population into starvation, is seeing renewed fighting.  It is certainly far too early to speak of a decisive military defeat; indeed, a “decisive” military defeat is wholly illusory, unless one is prepared to believe that tens of thousands of Palestinians, moving into the future, will not arise from the graveyard to which Gaza is being reduced and will not be prepared themselves to offer resistance even unto death.  Secondly, five months into the war, Hamas (and, perhaps, Islamic Jihad) continue to hold a hundred Israeli civilians and soldiers captive.  There is little reason to believe that the IDF or Israeli military intelligence even knows where these captives are being held.  Israel’s inability to rescue the hostages is striking, and we can anticipate that Israel’s response is that it is somewhat handicapped in its response since Hamas does not fight a fair war, or, to put it in more dramatic language, Hamas is a despicable terrorist organization that uses civilians as shields. Israel expects victory to be handed down to it on a platter, but its argument is all the more bizarre considering that it has a massively disproportional advantage over Hamas. And this is apart from the question that almost no one has dared to ask: why is that we should not view the thousands of Palestinians held in Israel’s jails as “hostages”.

Thirdly, none of Hamas’s senior political leadership has been apprehended.  Israel declared Hamas’s most important political leader, Yahya Sinwar, a “dead man walking”, but five months into the conflict Sinwar has proven to be adept in keeping even his whereabouts unknown to the outside world.  Israel has eyes and ears on the ground, but its celebrated intelligence has been unable to pick up either Sinwar, Marwan Issa—whose son Muhammad was killed in an IDF strike in late 2023—or Mohammed Deif, the head of the al-Qassam Brigades who has survived repeated assassination attempts and earned the nickname, “the cat with nine lives”. Deif was arrested by the Palestinian National Authority at Israel’s request in May 2000 but escaped several months later; he is believed to be the “mastermind” behind the surprise attack of October 7th, and the IDF sought to exact vengeance by targeting Deif’s father home with an airstrike which killed three family members, including Deif’s brother.

Having been unable to obliterate Hamas, capture or kill its senior leadership, or rescue the hostages, Israel has set out to criminalize, terrorize, and pulverize Palestinians. That has been the sum of its verifiable achievements:  the widespread infliction of pain, suffering, and death on a largely defenseless population; the elimination of large sectors of the Palestinian intelligentsia, the destruction (in whole or in part) of all twelve of Gaza’s universities, and cultural genocide; the deliberate starvation of the Palestinians as a means of waging war; the forcible and repeated displacement of a people, and most unforgivingly to areas that have falsely been promised as safe havens; and much else that defies the imagination. Israel will say in its defense that it is only doing what every nation-state has a right to do, namely mount self-defense against an enemy that does not recognize the right of Israel to exist. Whether everything Israel has can be done can be forgiven or even grudgingly justified in the name of self-defense is one thing; it is also an ethical and philosophical question whether self-defense allows the wanton and widespread killing of a people.  It is still another question, one those who lend their support to the Palestinian cause, whether Hamas does not bear some responsibility for the death and destruction of the Palestinians. Hamas surely would have known that Israel would exact a deadly even monstrous price from the Palestinians for its savage attack of October 7th, and that innocents, including children, would shoulder most of the burden of this vengeance.  None of these considerations, however, exculpate Israel.

If Israel is, as I submit, a paper tiger, we have to logically ask what happens to paper tigers. Most readers will be unaware that it was Chairman Mao who first used the term in contemporary times in an interview that he gave to the American journalist, Anna Louis Strong, in August 1946.  “The atom bomb is a paper tiger”, Mao said, “which the U.S. reactionaries use to scare people. It looks terrible, but in fact it isn’t. Of course, the atom bomb is a weapon of mass slaughter, but the outcome of a war is decided by the people, not by one or two new types of weapons. All reactionaries are paper tigers.” That people decide the course of war may sound fanciful, but Mao had in mind the experience of the Chinese people and the history of anti-colonial struggles.  Less than two decades later, the ignominious retreat of America from Vietnam would once again suggest the merit of his view.  Israel is a paper tiger because, having been humiliated by a new type of guerrilla armed force, and unable to subjugate its enemy, it chooses to wage a war against a civilian population; in doing so, it has yet to understand that the story of Palestinian self-determination will eclipse any narrative that Israel may put forward.

Israel and the United States:  The Catastrophic Synergy of Two Settler Colonial States

Of all the remarkable and still unfolding geopolitical aspects of the present war in Palestine, what stands out most is the unstinting support given to Israel by the United States from the very moment that the barbaric attack carried out by Hamas in Israel came to the attention of the world.  The US was not alone in unequivocally condemning Hamas, but President Joe Biden, characterizing the terrorist attacks as “pure, unadulterated evil” in a speech delivered on October 10, made it known that the “United States has Israel’s back”:  “We’re with Israel.”  Days later, in an extraordinary demonstration of just how “rock solid” American support of Israel is, Biden took the risk of traveling to Israel. By this time, at least 2,000 Palestinians, the vast majority of them civilians, had also been killed in the relentless, indeed merciless, aerial bombing of Gaza. Biden met with Jewish survivors of Hamas’s attack, holding some of them to his chest in a warm and consoling embrace; but, not surprisingly, he made no pretense of any similar commiseration with Palestinians.  Throughout, the United States vetoed resolutions in the United Nations calling for a cease-fire.  Since Hamas carried out its attack nearly two months ago, some 16,000 Palestinians, the greater majority of them women and children, have perished in a devastating orgy of fire, wrath, and destruction.

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Gaza, Bombed Out of Existence: “An Empty Land” in colonialist Thinking, Now a True Wasteland

It is not only with Britain, but with Israel as well, that the United States has long had a “special relationship”.  On 14 May 1948, less than an hour after Israel proclaimed its independence, the US became the first country in the world to recognize Israel as a sovereign state. Ever since, Israel has been backed by American arms, recently to the tune of $3 billion every year, and the two countries have celebrated their ties as an enduring partnership of two democracies allegedly inspired not merely by mutually shared interests but by the love of liberty.  Several commentators have pointed to the great many sources of this unusual relationship.  The US has the world’s second largest Jewish population after Israel, but there are several other, lesser explored, aspects of this relationship, not the least of them being the fact that the modern American university, and nearly every sphere of scientific and humanistic inquiry, has been disproportionately shaped by Jewish intellectuals.

However, in all the vast commentary on the unwavering support that Israel has received from the United States in the last 75 years, the most critical factor has been rarely discussed.  Both Israel and the United States are settler colonial states. Though the idea of “settler colonialism” is now a staple of scholarly discourse, it has made scarcely any inroads into the common understanding of colonialism.  School textbooks down in the United States down to the present day do not use the term “settler colonialism”, and here I will not take up the matter of whether the extermination of American Indians has received even remotely the kind of recognition that it needs.  (“Recognition” barely gets us to the question of “justice”, but that is still more remote a possibility.)  But it behooves us to have at least an elementary sense of how settler colonialism provides another lens on the more general phenomenon of colonialism. The British in India, to take a well-known example of colonialism, absorbed ever greater parts of the country into British India after their initial conquest of Bengal in 1757, and some British families put down roots in India extending over the course of several generations. Though the relationship was often exploitative in the extreme, the British did not seek to exterminate the population and generally did not treat the local population merely as slave labor.

Settler colonialism is an altogether different phenomenon.  It is, in the first instance, predicated on the legal fiction, one that the Europeans boldly even merrily advanced, of terra nullius—that is, the notion that the lands they had encountered were “empty”. These lands were construed as sparsely populated, and that too by those viewed as savages bereft of civilization, and otherwise as unproductive.  Europeans thought nothing of claiming these lands as their own: however, it is not merely when they encountered opposition that they killed the indigenous people, since extermination was but a blood sport. Indigenous populations were nearly wiped out, but many of the natives were also taken into slavery.  Settler colonialists could not countenance even remotely the idea of accommodation and, without exception, settler colonialism resulted in the replacement of Europeans for the indigenous populations.  The other word for this phenomenon is genocide—even if, in the aftermath of the Second World War and especially in the last few decades, the world has settled upon a more capacious understanding of what constitutes “genocide”.

The United States, much like Australia, has evolved from being a settler colonial state into becoming a fundamentally immigrant society, but the periodic recrudescence of virulent white nationalism in both countries suggests that they continue to be guided by the instincts of settler colonialists.  There is but no question that the origins of the modern nation-state of Israel lie precisely in a similar kind of settler colonialism.  The founding of Israel was only made possible by the mass expulsion of Palestinians who term their displacement, and the dispossession of their lands, as nakba. Even as astute, learned, and sensitive a philosopher as Martin Buber was susceptible to the idea that it was given to Jewish settlers alone to make the land productive: “This land recognizes us, for it is fruitful through us: and precisely because it bears fruit for us, it recognizes us.” The land had thus far been unproductive, merely waste land: as Buber opined in an open letter to Mahatma Gandhi on 24 February 1939, “The Jewish farmers have begun to teach their brothers, the Arab farmers, to cultivate the land more intensively.”  Buber had at least the decency, utterly wanting in the present generation of Israeli leaders and their unthinking supporters in the United States, to add that “we do not want to dominate them; we want to serve with them …”

Palestine does not exist: one American, and not merely Israeli, politician after another has pronounced this as an unimpeachable fact over the last several decades. At my own university, the Chancellor, in his first message to the university community days after October 7th, while deploring the “heinous” attack by Hamas, found himself incapable of even mentioning Palestine. A week after his first message, and that at a time when a few thousand lives in Gaza had already been snuffed out, the Chancellor of UCLA could only muster up enough “courage”, if that is the word for so supine and cowardly a gesture, to say that what was happening in Gaza was “troubling”.  If Palestinians cannot even be named, they certainly do not exist.  The United States and Israel together have woven a dance of death which has been catastrophic for their own countries and will undoubtedly prove to be an unmitigated disaster for the entire world.

Hamas’s Insurgency and Israel’s Vengeance

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Vinay Lal

It is now forty-eight hours since Hamas initiated a multi-pronged attack on the state of Israel, creating shock waves around the world and sending the Jewish state into mourning and rage. Israel’s politicians and generals are seething with the desire for revenge, and some are calling for the utter annihilation of Hamas and the abject and complete submission of Gaza to a renewed Israeli occupation.  Over 1,100 people, quite likely many more, are already dead—and the majority of these are  presently Israelis, though at least 400 Palestinians have been killed thus far as well.  Before one proceeds any further to analyze this extraordinary and tumultuous state of affairs, the repercussions of which will doubtless resonate for years in West Asia and beyond, one must first clear the ground on how Hamas might be characterized. 

Israel, the United States, Canada, and the countries of the European Union (EU) designated Hamas as a ‘terrorist organization’ years ago, but it must be stated emphatically that this is not the view of much of the world. China, India, Russia, Brazil, and Turkey are among the countries which have resisted the call to declare Hamas a ‘terrorist organization’.  Indeed, a resolution introduced in the 193-member UN General Assembly in December 2018 to condemn Hamas as a ‘terrorist organization’ did not pass, with only 87 countries voting in favor of the resolution.  Though Prime Minister Modi has now declared that India stands by Israel, his government was among those that in 2018 cast a vote of abstention.   

Hamas, which is an Arabic acronym for Islamic Resistance Movement, is at once a nationalist organization and a political party; it has a militant wing (al-Qassam Brigades) as well as a social service wing (Dawah), but what is almost invariably neglected in Western accounts of Hamas is its presence as a political party.  It contested the 2006 Palestinian legislative elections, an election that the United States, the United Kingdom, and Israel desperately attempted to swing in favor of the Palestinian Authority. International observers, including those from the EU, declared that the election had been ‘competitive and genuinely democratic’; stunningly, Hamas won by a substantial majority, handily defeating Fatah 76-43. The US, Canada, and later EU froze all financial assistance to the Hamas-led government, sabotaging not only Hamas but, clearly, the will of the Palestinian people.  To this day, Hamas exercises a majority in the Palestinian National Authority parliament.

It should not be surprising that this history is being altogether obscured by the commentary now emanating from the West in the face of Hamas’s daring if bloodthirsty assault on Israel.  Certainly, with its indiscriminate and horrific killing of civilians, Hamas has done nothing to commend itself to the world’s attention as an organization that might be taken seriously as a political player at the negotiating table. The 250 some Israelis killed at a music festival just a few hours into the attack had no inkling of the murderous assault that was coming their way.  One must condemn, in the most unequivocal terms, the killing of civilians, whether women, men, children, or the elderly, and similarly denounce the taking of hostage as outrageous and antithetical to all canons of civilized behavior.

Just what the long-term outcome of this ‘war’, as so declared by the Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, will be no one quite knows. For the present, however, it suffices to consider two of the many considerations or questions that form part of the present debate. First, the overwhelming question for many commentators has simply been this:  just how did Hamas manage to launch such a full-scale and coordinated attack from air, land, and sea and take Israel completely by surprise? I would like to suggest that this question, while not unimportant, is less interesting than is commonly supposed.  Israel has been celebrated for some time as a tough, or no-nonsense, state with some of the world’s most sophisticated military technology, the most advanced surveillance technologies, and a small but exceedingly well-trained army with a large number of reservists that is the envy of much of the world. Writing for The Guardian, Peter Beaumont reflects a commonly held view in arguing that Hamas’s ‘surprise attack on Israel … will be remembered as the intelligence failure for the ages.’  He reminds us, as have others, that the Pegasus spyware originated in Israel, and the country’s cyberwar unit, 8200, ‘is now the largest unit’ in the Israel Defence Forces. 

For all of this extraordinary sophistication, Israel was, it seems, wholly unprepared for Hamas’s stupendous infiltration into Israel.  Even Hamas’s most virulent critics, one suspects, must be secretly marveling at their ingenuity in firing thousands of rockets and thus overpowering the Iron Dome air defence system, using bulldozers to bring down a section of the Israel-Gaza border fence, and, most spectacularly, paragliding Hamas fighters into Israeli territory. Just why Israeli—and American—intelligence could not foresee any of this has also been put down to Israeli arrogance, the distractions created by the internal political turmoil that has been roiling Israel for close to one year, and the tendency to see Hamas as largely a spent force comprised of ragtag bunch of fighters. 

What all of this overlooks is the ineluctable fact that there is not now, and never has been anywhere in the world, a foolproof system of security. This is but one of the delusions of those who abide by a purely realpolitik view of the world.  Moreover, no security system in the world can prevail against a people who are determined to gain their freedom and who are unwilling to tolerate the suffocation of the cage into which they have been locked.  The Gaza strip is just that—a cage in which some 2.5 million people have been locked since Israel imposed a draconian and lawless blockade on Gaza in 2007. Not every Palestinian supports Hamas, but there isn’t a Palestinian who does not aspire to freedom—though this is far from the mind of supposedly enlightened Western commentators such as the numbskulled Thomas Friedman, whose only explanation for why Hamas undertook to attack Israel at this juncture is the common geopolitical view that Hamas is keen on sabotaging the Saudi-US rapprochement and similarly the normalization of relations between Israel and Saudi Arabia. It would be naïve to suppose that Hamas did not also have this in mind, but by far the greater consideration is the desire of the Palestinian people to secure justice, freedom, and dignity for their people.

This, then, brings us, if briefly, to the second and related consideration. Politicians and commentators in the United States and Europe, speaking as if they were part of a well-rehearsed choral group, are unanimous in describing Hamas’s attack as ‘unprovoked’.  It is seventy-five years since the ethnic cleansing of Palestine by the newly created state of Israel and its principal backers, the United States and the United Kingdom.  Dozens of resolutions have been passed in the UN General Assembly proclaiming the right of Palestinians to self-determination. Their only effect has been to embolden Israel, which has ever so gradually been encroaching upon Palestinian territory. Jewish settlers in the West Bank have, especially since the last election in Israel which brought far-right Jewish extremists into power and into Netanyahu’s cabinet, gone on a rampage through Palestinian villages and terrorized Palestinian civilians. There is scarcely a people in the world who have lived under such sustained provocation over decades as have the Palestinians. The US has done over these years what it does best, namely act as the world’s greatest mercenary and arms supplier, while mouthing platitudes about being the world’s torchbearer of liberty.

As I have noted, and as merits constant reiteration, one must unconditionally condemn violence and, in this case, Hamas’s attack upon Israel.  Hamas cannot prevail in a military conflict with Israel:  with or without further US military assistance, Israel will pulverize Hamas.  Still, while we recognize the cycle of violence to which Hamas has most unfortunately given yet another lease of life, we must remind ourselves that it is also possible to degrade and kill an entire people in slow motion.  The world must ensure that the Palestinians, who have endured much, are henceforth spared this cruel fate.

First published at abplive.in under the title of “Hamas’s Insurgency and Israel’s Humiliation” on 9 October 2023. Two small but important errors inadvertently appeared in the first edition of this essay as circulated to subscribers but have now been corrected.

Gandhi’s Secularism in the Age of Muscular Hinduism

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Vinay Lal

(On the occasion of Gandhi Jayanti, or, Mahatma Gandhi’s Birthday)

Mohandas Gandhi forged such a distinctive path in so many spheres of life that it should come as no surprise that his conception of secularism is also at odds with nearly every commonplace understanding of secularism. Indeed, as my argument unfolds, it will become amply clear that Gandhi’s adherence to secularism entailed a deepening of religious belief; as he was to tell some English friends who came to see him on the evening of 31 December 1947, ‘what I want to do and what I have been eagerly doing for the last sixty years is atmadarshan [self-realization]…. I do not boast of my perfect success at it. But, little by little, I am inching towards it. And my every worldly (secular) engagement is carried out just from this perspective.’

The adherents of a rigorous conception of secularism have long subscribed to the formula of the separation of ‘church’ and ‘state’. Whether such a conception of secularism has existed anywhere even in the West is doubtful, but certainly, as is widely recognized, secularism so understood never had any traction in India except among a miniscule number of people who self-consciously styled themselves atheists, rationalists, and sometimes even humanists. What prevailed in India was not the view that the state might not promote religion, but rather that it was not to bestow favours on one religion at the expense of other religions. Many people have thought that such a view can fairly be said to characterize Gandhi’s own position.

Some of Gandhi’s pronouncements certainly appear to support the view that his secularism, to the extent that the word seems apposite for a man who remarked that not a leaf moved without the will of God, could not countenance the possibility that the state might concern itself with religious matters much less promote one religion. Writing in the pages of his journal Harijan in February 1947, as independence was imminent, he warned that the state ought not to ‘concern itself or cope with religious education’. Shortly after the attainment of independence, he firmly opined on the necessity of an Indian ‘Government for all. It is a “secular” government, that is, it is not a theocratic government, rather, it does not belong to any particular religion.’  There can be no doubt that he would have found the idea of a Hindu rashtra utterly repugnant.

However, the question of Gandhi’s secularism calls for interrogation from other perspectives. Some scholars hold to the view that the more palpable demonstration of his secularism resides in establishing that for him religion was in no wise incompatible with reason. His views on Hindu scriptures may be summoned as an illustration: his unstinting admiration, even reverence, for Tulsidas’ Ramacaritmanas did not stop him from rejecting one of its verses as misogynistic and thus reprehensible. He took a similar view in regard to Islam, and was critical of a Muslim clergyman who defended the stoning to death of Ahmadis on the grounds that it was sanctioned in the Quran: as Gandhi averred, ‘every formula of every religion has in this age of reason, to submit to the acid test of reason and universal justice if it is to ask for universal assent.’

Gandhi had from the outset advocated for a position that is often described as ‘religious politics’. In the concluding chapter of his autobiography (1927-29, he observes that he was drawn into politics owing to his ‘devotion to Truth’, and that ‘those who say that religion has nothing to do with politics do not know what religion means.’  He had declared as much when he accepted the presidency of the Indian National Congress in 1924, adding the caveat that he had in mind ‘not the religion of the superstitious and the blind, religion that hates and fights, but the universal Religion of Toleration. Politics without morality is a thing to be avoided.’

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Gandhi at prayer, around 1948; photographer unknown.

The present turn in Indian politics, with the demonstrable rise of an ugly and xenophobic Hindu nationalism, suggests however the perils of invoking ‘religious politics’—even with the caveats that Gandhi had put forward repeatedly and his plea for a ‘universal Religion of Toleration’.  It is tempting to think that as Gandhi saw India increasingly slipping into communal violence from the late 1920s onward, he may have stepped back from the ‘religious politics’ that he had advocated. His ‘secularism’ is often ascribed to this very set of circumstances, and the liberal interpretation has insisted that he eventually came to adopt something like the bourgeois conception of secularism as a political ideology that was supremely respectful of individual rights.

In plain English, Gandhi, on this reading, increasingly thought that religion was strictly a private affair and should nowhere be dragged into the public. But Gandhi never adhered to the idea of the private and public as distinct and discrete spheres of life.  It is critically important, as well, to recognize how his evening public prayer meeting, a full-length study of which is still awaited though there are countless number of books on his religious life and practices, evolved over the decades.  It may be argued that what is more representative of his outlook is the stupendously radical idea that if the Muslim prays, he should pray that not that the Hindu should become a Muslim but rather a better Hindu; that if the Hindu prays, he should pray not that the Muslim should return to the Hindu fold but rather become a better Muslim; and thus with the Christians, Sikhs, and others.

In addressing a gathering of Buddhists on the occasion of Buddha Jayanti in 1925, Gandhi recalled that Muslims often mistook him for a Muslim, the Jains for a Jain, and his Christian friends for a Christian. The Christian missionaries who met Gandhi soon realized that it was pointless to make an attempt convert him to Christianity since he was a much better Christian than any they had ever encountered. It is Gandhi’s profound religious belief and sensibility that made him resolutely secular; his secularism, and his worldly obligations, each of which was but an attempt to strive for self-realization, deepened his religious belief.  His veneration for other faiths made him more, not less, of a Hindu. The advocates of a militant and muscular Hindu nationalism are in this matter entirely clueless—scarcely surprising given their ferocious disdain for self-reflexivity or anything that may remotely be called thought.

First published in print and online in the Indian Express, 2 October 2023, as “Gandhi’s Secularism Drew on His Profound Religiosity”. The present version is slightly longer.