Hindu Terrorism: The Terrorism No One Talks About
Hindu Terrorism: The Terrorism No One
Talks About
There is a phrase India rarely wants to discuss: Hindu
terrorism. Hinduism is not terrorism, just as Islam is not terrorism. But if
violence committed in the name of Islam can be called terrorism, why should
violence committed in the name of Hindu supremacy or Hindu political power
automatically escape the same scrutiny? Terrorism should be defined by the act,
its purpose, and the fear it is intended to create not by the religion of the
person committing it.
History shows how effectively fear can control society.
India's caste system hardened over centuries into a birth-based hierarchy,
while concepts such as karma, rebirth, purity and duty were sometimes used to
persuade people to accept their social position as destiny. Fear did not always
require a sword. Social exclusion, religious punishment and unquestioned
obedience could themselves become instruments of control. India's history also
included Thuggee, bands associated in colonial accounts with robbery, murder
and the worship of Kali, although historians dispute how accurately the British
portrayed them as one religious cult. The point is not that Hinduism was responsible
for their crimes. Religion should neither be blamed for every crime committed
by its followers nor used as a shield when violence is committed in its name.
The LTTE demonstrates the distinction. Its members were
largely drawn from a Hindu Tamil population, yet it was fundamentally a Tamil
ethno-nationalist organization rather than a Hindu religious movement. It
assassinated political leaders, including former Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi,
and became internationally identified with terrorism. Terrorism therefore
cannot simply be determined by someone's religion. The motive and purpose
behind the violence matter.
Yet the word itself is often applied selectively. America has
wrestled with this problem as well. Violence associated with Muslim extremists
has often been quickly described as terrorism, while ideologically motivated
violence by white extremists has not always received the same label. That
creates a dangerous principle: terrorism becomes something committed by “them,”
while violence committed by “us” receives another name. That same question
needs to be asked in India. The RSS publicly speaks about harmony and national
unity, while critics accuse elements within the broader Hindu nationalist
ecosystem of intimidation and violence. Such allegations should neither be
automatically accepted nor dismissed. Political power cannot be allowed to
determine whether allegations of organized violence deserve investigation.
The allegations surrounding the Jantar Mantar student
protests make this especially important. Swatantra Bhardwaj reportedly boasted
about assaulting the father of student activist Nishu Azad and claimed that
political connections protected him. The politicians he named have disputed
those claims. There have also been serious allegations that criminals were
released, mobilized or brought into the protest environment to intimidate
students. Those allegations require evidence, but their seriousness demands investigation
rather than dismissal.
If criminals or politically connected individuals were
deliberately brought in, encouraged or protected to attack protesters and
frighten students away from challenging the government, then we are no longer
discussing an ordinary street fight. If organized violence was intentionally
used to create fear and suppress political dissent, the possibility of
politically organized terror must be investigated.
This is where selective definitions become dangerous. A
government cannot call violence terrorism when committed by its enemies but
ordinary disorder when violence serves its political interests. Otherwise, the
attacker becomes an “activist,” the mob becomes “angry citizens,” intimidation
becomes “maintaining order,” and political violence becomes just another
unfortunate incident. Changing the vocabulary does not change what happened.
Osama bin Laden believed he had ideological justification for
his actions. His followers could describe him however they wished; the world
judged him by his actions. The same principle must apply everywhere. A violent
extremist does not become harmless because he wears a tilak, carries a saffron
flag or claims to be defending Hinduism. Nor should political connections
change the definition of violence.
This also brings us to the idea of a Hindu Rashtra. If a yogi
turned politician wants to transform India into a Hindu Rashtra through fear,
intimidation or violence, then in my definition that is not spirituality it is
terror in the service of politics. But if Hindu Rashtra means humanity, peace,
love, compassion and care for everyone, then why does it need a religious label
at all? That is the society most Indians already want.
Some may call that ideal Ram Rajya. But in a genuine Ram
Rajya, Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Christian or atheist should matter less than
whether someone is a decent human being. Faith should never determine whose
rights are protected, whose violence is excused or whose fear matters.
India therefore needs one standard. If a Muslim uses ideology
and violence to terrorize people, investigate him. If a Sikh, Christian or
Hindu does the same, investigate him exactly the same way. And if evidence
establishes that people acting with political protection deliberately organized
violence to frighten peaceful protesters into silence, investigate those who
organized and protected them as well.
Terrorism cannot have two definitions: one for your enemies
and another for your friends. Perhaps that is the real question behind “Hindu
terrorism.” If someone uses Hindu identity, organized violence, and political
power to deliberately spread fear, why should we be afraid to call his actions
what we would call them if his religion were different?
I leave that answer to the reader.
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