When a Vishwaguru Needs a Chit Sheet: Apparently, Even Greatness Needs Notes
When a Vishwaguru Needs a Cheat Sheet:
Apparently, Even Greatness Needs Notes
When the leader of the world’s largest democracy needs a chit
sheet while sitting with the leader of a host nation, even to thank him for his
hospitality, people are free to interpret the scene however they wish. Both
leaders can speak in their own languages, interpreters are sitting there
precisely to translate, and nobody expects a visiting Prime Minister to
suddenly become multilingual. Yet apparently even a simple “thank you for your
hospitality” may require written guidance when you are the self-advertised
leader of a “Vishwaguru.” Perhaps greatness has simply become too complicated
to remember without notes.
India had highly educated, articulate leaders representing it
on the world stage long before Narendra Modi arrived. They spoke to
journalists, answered uncomfortable questions and dealt with foreign leaders
without an entire political industry constantly reminding Indians how
impressive they looked doing it. Modi, by contrast, is remarkably effective
when the speech is prepared, the teleprompter is working and the audience is
listening. Put him into an unscripted situation, and suddenly the world’s supposed
great communicator appears considerably less eager to communicate. Apparently,
communication becomes much easier when nobody is allowed to interrupt with a
question.
That brings us to the great academic mystery of modern India:
Modi’s educational qualifications. His election affidavits declare a B.A. and
an M.A., with the latter described as being in “Entire Political Science.”
Nobody needs a university degree to become Prime Minister of India, so the
degree itself should have been politically unimportant. Yet questions and
litigation surrounding access to the educational records have continued for
years. A document that could have been utterly boring somehow became one of
India’s longest-running political mysteries. One almost begins to wonder
whether the degree deserves its own archaeological department.
The more important issue is not Modi’s degree but the kind of
India being encouraged under his leadership. A modern nation needs science,
education, research, critical thinking and young people trained to challenge
established ideas. Instead, political discourse increasingly mixes governance
with religion, mythology and claims that seem designed to discourage
questioning. Modi himself has spoken about eventually believing that he was
sent by God for a purpose. That certainly simplifies political accountability:
if electoral victory comes from God, perhaps manifestos, journalists and
opposition questions are merely administrative inconveniences.
Fortunately for democracy, India's younger generation does
not appear quite as interested in divine political appointments. Students and
young Indians increasingly seem willing to ask uncomfortable questions and
confront authority. That may explain why political branding is becoming harder
to maintain. A television studio can repeat “Vishwaguru” a thousand times, but
a young person without a job may eventually commit the unforgivable act of
asking, “Where is the job?” A student worried about examinations may ask about
education. Another may ask about corruption. Suddenly the carefully constructed
political spectacle has a serious problem: somebody in the audience has started
asking questions.
And Modi is hardly alone in benefiting from India's
willingness to confuse religious presentation with moral authority. Put on
saffron robes, grow the appropriate beard, speak confidently about God and,
apparently, your résumé may no longer require references. India has repeatedly
watched enormously influential religious figures acquire millions of followers,
only for some later to face serious criminal allegations or convictions
involving exploitation and sexual abuse. Yet another self-proclaimed holy figure
soon appears, another crowd gathers, and the cycle begins again. Apparently,
religious clothing remains one of the few uniforms for which society sometimes
forgets to conduct a background check.
So should India abandon religion? No. People should be free
to believe, worship or reject religion entirely. But perhaps India could try
something truly revolutionary: stop confusing faith with qualifications.
Wearing religious clothing does not establish morality. Winning an election
does not establish wisdom. Calling yourself Vishwaguru does not make you one.
And saying that God has given you a mission does not exempt you from answering
questions asked by the citizens who actually gave you the job.
For decades India has worried about whether its politicians,
bureaucrats and professionals possess the qualifications necessary for their
positions. Perhaps the same principle should apply more broadly: the greater
the power someone exercises over other people, the greater the scrutiny that
person should face. Political leaders should answer questions. Religious
leaders should remain subject to the law. Journalists should question both. And
citizens should never surrender their judgment simply because someone arrives
wrapped in a flag, a political slogan or religious clothing.
India does not need a Prime Minister who tells Indians that
the world respects them because of him. India was respected before Narendra
Modi and will remain after him. Nor does a civilization thousands of years old
require one politician to certify its greatness.
And perhaps there is one final irony worth remembering: when
you repeatedly tell 1.4 billion people that you are their Vishwaguru, it might
help to remember what you wanted to say without looking at the chit sheet.
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