Manipur Govt has let down people, it must go
It took a disturbing video clip of two women from the Kuki-Zomi community being stripped by Meitei men and forced to walk naked amidst a leering mob for Prime Minister Narendra Modi to utter a few words after nearly three months of complete silence on the violent turmoil in Manipur. Over 150 people have died, churches have been set on fire and thousands have fled their homes for refugee camps.
The nation, said Modi, is feeling ashamed. Certainly, we should feel shame when we witness the degradation of women in the times of war as well as peace. We should be ashamed of our silence that skirts the horrors our fellow citizens experience day after day. We should be ashamed of the way we have been reduced from participative citizens to an audience which watches the spectacle of blood, much like the crowds that excitedly viewed public executions in the medieval period. We let down our fellow citizens during a crisis. Indeed, we should be ashamed.
But the Central and state governments should also be ashamed of their failure to prevent bloodletting, rapes and assaults on such a large scale. The people of India elect governments and bestow them with enormous power so that their basic right to life and liberty is protected. How can power-holders ignore the ineradicable scars inflicted on their people? There is enough cause for them to feel shame.
Studies of collective violence tell us that riots do not erupt suddenly or out of nothing. The transition from simmering discontent to violent acts always involves a trigger: the people who instigate violence, those who provide weapons and those who mastermind the shedding of blood. Above all, collective violence simply does not happen if the government does not want it to happen.
The police and intelligence agencies, which are tasked with protecting citizens, should be able to read the indicators of impending violence: rumours, hate speech and stockpiling of weapons. It is surprising that in the age of the surveillance state, the state government could not prevent violence that was unleashed on the people of Manipur. The failure to do so speaks poorly of the competence of those in power, of their refusal to accept responsibility and of their lack of accountability to the people who have voted them to power.
In the history of India, there have been leaders who have accepted responsibility. On the night of August 25, 1947, in a small town of Sheikhupura (near Lahore), which had a mixed population of Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus, massive clashes erupted between the communities. Twenty-four hours later, hundreds of people had been savagely murdered. Parts of the town were set on fire and Sikhs preferred to take shelter in a gurdwara rather than hospitals. Historian Alex von Tunzelmann, in her book Indian Summer, says that the sight of the injured Sikhs in the gurdwara was appalling. The hands and feet of men and women had been cut off and forearms reduced to putrescent fly-covered stumps. Babies and little children had been wounded.
When Nehru visited a few days later, he found himself sick with horror at the stink of spilt blood and burnt flesh. He wrote to Mountbatten in deep depression: “I suppose I am not directly responsible for what is taking place in Punjab…. But in any event, I cannot and do not wish to shed responsibility for my people. If I cannot discharge the responsibility effectively then I begin to doubt whether I have any business to be where I am.” Nehru toured the violence-affected areas and tried to control the riots. He tried to persuade Muslims not to leave their homes and appealed to those who had left to come back to India, with the assurance that they would be provided security.
Today, do we see any political leader on the streets, appealing for the cessation of violence? Do we see any of them accepting responsibility for the harm done?
It is true that Manipur is no stranger to violence. The struggle between insurgents and the Government of India is overlaid by discord between hill tribes and the people of the Valley — the Meiteis. The ubiquity of violence has taken a heavy toll on Manipuri society.
Poets portray the dejected faces of mothers, of young men and women who have been picked up either by the security forces or by rival armed ethnic groups. Tayenjam Bijoykumar Singh has written about renowned theatre director Ratan Thiyam’s powerful play Kurukshetragi Peerang, which dwells on the futility of war and the endless search for peace. At the end of the play, the actors light oil lamps to signify enlightenment: “Wars bring only destruction… An enlightened Panchali vows to arm herself with Dharma and wipe away tears from the eyes of the multitude of anguished mothers whose valiant sons had been felled in the battlefield of Kurukshetra.” Thiyam’s entire career as a writer and director of plays has been wracked by sorrow at the plight of his beloved state, Manipur.
The ongoing violence that has taken countless lives, rendered people homeless and wiped out the dignity of women is beyond compare. It’s time the CM heading the state government resigned (or is sacked) and the Centre made serious attempts to bring an end to the bloodshed that has scarred the region.
