https://www.heraldgoa.in/edit/opinions/crisis-of-conscience/448914/
Criminality abounds in every direction in India’s smallest state – now including dacoity and violent home invasions as its “new normal” – but it was the heartfelt little vigil for Gaza in Panjim where the police force showed up with conspicuous alacrity earlier this week, herding up dozens of people and busing them off to Agassaim for hours in custody. There were as many uniformed officers as protesters swarming an initial venue on the church steps, which got shut it down immediately – fair enough, to a point, because the organizers had not received permission to gather – but the situation became much more sad and troubling when these “guardians of the peace” swooped down on a far smaller group of young people sitting on the grass and singing Hum Honge Kamyab at Azad Maidan, which has always been open to peaceful gatherings of this kind. Overeager cops even scaled the fence and ran across the road to grab kids who had already dispersed. What kind of priorities are these? How low has Goa fallen? The sad reality is things are likely to get even worse. When the facts about this absurd over-reaction in Panjim were discussed on social media, comments like this rang chillingly true: “in UP their houses would have been bulldozed, and they would have beaten black and blue. Have seen that during CAA and NRC. Protesting with Gaza in mind is no threat to the ruling dispensation, but when they perceive any real threat, they will turn brutal.” What might happen if Gen Z shows up again in Panjim, but this time with Goa on their minds? All future indications are troubling, as we can see playing out in this very moment in Ladakh, where the renowned Magsaysay Award winner Sonam Wangchuk is being cruelly scapegoated for comprehensive governance failures since the region was partitioned from Jammu & Kashmir, and turned into a Union Territory in 2019. Environmental researcher Ashish Kothari summed up the situation in Scroll a few days ago: “Over the last five years, Wangchuk has become the most prominent face of a growing movement in Ladakh urging Constitutional safeguards to determine its own future. High on the list of demands are protections under the Constitution’s Sixth Schedule, which allows regions with a Scheduled Tribe majority some degree of self-governance. The BJP promised this to the region in 2019 and then again before the elections to the Ladakh Hill Council the next year. But it never followed through. Meanwhile, unemployment among the region’s youth has steadily risen. It is in this context that several people, including Wangchuk, began a fast on September 10.” Unfortunately, and far from the hunger strikers’ control, Kothari says “a section of the participants resorted to violence (some say, on their own; others say provoked by the police firing teargas). Four people died, including a former serviceman. The government immediately used the violence to paint the protestors – especially Wangchuk – as “anti-national”. On September 27, Wangchuk was detained under the draconian National Security Act. The day before, the authorities withdrew permission to the educational institution he had set up, SECMOL or the Students' Educational and Cultural Movement of Ladakh, to receive contributions from overseas.” This despite the fact that Wangchuk had all along “emphasised that he did not want a situation where out of frustration and anger, the situation in Ladakh would go the way of the Arab Spring or the Nepal youth movement. Never once has he made a statement inciting youth to take the path of those movements [and then] when the violence broke out on September 24, Wangchuk immediately expressed his sadness and disappointment and called off his fast.” There is stark irony in this extremely tense juncture of Indian civic history, says Anand Teltumbde – the eminent ex-professor of Goa Institute of Management and dignified civil rights activist – because “those who question the government’s actions or seek to hold it accountable are branded as enemies of the nation, while those who perpetuate divisive ideologies are celebrated as patriots.” Writing in The Wire earlier this week, this great multidisciplinary scholar, thinker and writer focused with piercing clarity on the obvious uncomfortable truth that “India, often hailed as the world’s largest democracy, appears to view a significant portion of its populace as adversaries. The government’s relentless narrative of internal threats – be it from activists, students, farmers or even comedians – has weaponised the term ‘anti-national’, eroding the space for dialogue and democratic participation. What this narrative effectively conveys is a deep-seated insecurity on the part of the state. Instead of addressing the structural inequalities and grievances that lead to social unrest, the government resorts to oppressive legal frameworks to suppress voices of opposition.” Teltumbde says, with impeccable logic, that “this inversion of values undermines the principles of justice, equality and freedom enshrined in the Constitution. It also risks alienating vast sections of the population, deepening social divisions and fostering a culture of fear and suspicion. Ultimately, the rampant use of draconian laws underlines a critical failing of governance: the inability – or unwillingness – to engage with dissent constructively. By criminalising opposition and perpetuating the myth of an ‘anti-national’ populace, the state not only weakens the foundations of democracy but also undermines its own legitimacy. A truly secure and thriving nation cannot be built by stifling its people; it must be forged through inclusivity, dialogue and the recognition that dissent is not a threat but an essential component of democracy.”
