USA TODAY International Edition

Ban of Modi doc imperils rights to speech, religion

- Mary Ann Koruth USA TODAY Network Mary Ann Koruth is a staff writer for The Bergen Record and northjerse­y. com, part of the USA TODAY Network. Follow her on Twitter: @ MaryAnnKor­uth

When the big screen blacked out, young people whipped out their phones and continued watching online. College students in India have been screening the BBC documentar­y “India: The Modi Question” after the Indian government blocked it.

India’s Supreme Court is considerin­g legal petitions against the ban.

The furor only elevated the film’s question: How complicit the Indian prime minister was in a pogrom against Muslim citizens two decades ago. Whether Indians in the diaspora agree with the answer, we should see how each one of us is associated with violence against minorities, simply by having lived through such events.

YouTube and Twitter India have removed links to the documentar­y at the Modi government’s orders. For vocal Indian users of Twitter, that’s a far cry from owner Elon Musk claiming that he would make it a free speech platform for democracy.

Pirated versions are now online, but watching the first episode of the twopart film on the Internet Archive before it was taken down brought back clear memories of my own experience of violence between religious communitie­s when I was a teenager growing up in Uttar Pradesh, a state in India’s northern plains and part of India’s “Hindu heartland.”

Focus on the burning question

I was working in the United States when riots broke out in 2002 in the western state of Gujarat, but reports circulated about the state’s complicity in a backlash against Muslims after the burning of a train compartmen­t carrying Hindu pilgrims.

Rioters roamed the streets for days, raping, looting and killing fellow citizens, even children.

Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi was, at the time, chief minister of Gujarat and a rising star in politics.

In one scene in the documentar­y, a survivor of the riot describes how Modi’s office rejected calls for help from a Muslim member of Parliament who was sheltering some families. The M. P. then offered himself to the mob, begging it to spare the others. The mob slit his throat, said the survivor who managed to get away, and then they attacked the women, men and children hiding in the building.

The Supreme Court has since dismissed charges filed by the M. P.’ s widow on Modi’s role in the riots.

The Indian government has called the BBC documentar­y “propaganda” reeking of a “colonial mind- set,” as if the Gujarat pogrom were less heinous when the Indian news media reported it. And the Indian media appears to have mostly forgotten its own reporting by focusing on the ban, not the film’s burning question.

A U. S. State Department spokespers­on told a reporter he “was not familiar” with the film, even as it made internatio­nal headlines. Yet in December, the U. S. Commission on Internatio­nal Religious Freedom criticized the State Department for ignoring its recommenda­tion to put India as a country of particular concern for “egregious violations of religious freedoms.”

But what about the Indian people?

I witnessed religious hate

Ask me, for instance. I grew up in India in the 1980s and ’ 90s.

Hindu- Muslim tensions caused the carnage of partition in 1947, when modern- day India and Pakistan were created by redrawing borders. But politician­s stoked that sentiment in front of my own eyes when I was in school.

In 1990, Lal Krishna Advani, an Indian politician who adopted a Hindu nationalis­t platform, announced a “journey by chariot” to the site of a mosque built by Muslim conquerors allegedly over an ancient temple they destroyed in one of Hindus’ holiest cities, Ayodhya. The “journey” signaled to the nation that revenge was in order, blessed by a leading political party. And revenge was had. It was had when thousands of young men followed Advani’s call and demolished the mosque.

It was had when riots broke out in many cities, including my home city of Kanpur.

At night, my brother and I listened for distant sirens in the poorer neighborho­ods near us where Muslims and Hindus lived close to each other.

My mother’s Hindu dry cleaner broke down as he told us about the stabbing death of the tailor who worked with him, an elegant, old Muslim man who rode a bicycle and always wore a skull cap and a white shalwar- kurta.

Five years prior, Sikhs, another minority, became the target of violence after Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was shot dead by her Sikh bodyguards in Delhi in 1984. Schools closed and curfew was imposed.

My father came home from work one night despondent. A Sikh factory employee was dragged out of his house with his family and lynched.

What changed in the three decades since the demolishin­g of the mosque? A growing culture of impunity that leaves minorities feeling more threatened than ever before in the country’s collective memory. This, in one of the most ethnically and religiousl­y diverse nations where communitie­s have coexisted peacefully before present- day politician­s began to exploit this diversity.

In a 2020 Pew Research Center study of India, 84% said religious tolerance is central to being “truly Indian.”

World’s largest democracy

The Modi government’s tactics against Muslims in particular feed an idea that modern India needs to create an exclusive Hindu identity. Revenge is being had.

As upper- middle class Christians, my family was generally safe from sectarian strife, but the fragile peace that existed between minority communitie­s and the Hindu majority was like a match waiting to be lit, and it made me uncomforta­bly aware of the precarious­ness of being on the other side. In school then and among my friends, almost all of whom were also Hindus, there never was a question that the murders of Muslims and Sikhs was horribly wrong.

However, I also knew people who would not condemn it, so the violence – by nameless, faceless mobs – was even more sinister for being commonplac­e and something to be expected.

Just last month on Republic Day, India celebrated 73 years of its constituti­on, which enshrines the rights to freedom of speech and freedom of conscience to practice religion. Now, those very rights are in peril.

By banning a documentar­y in the world’s largest democracy with 1.4 billion people, the Indian government has acknowledg­ed this.

 ?? ARUN CHANDRABOS­E/ AFP VIA GETTY IMAGES ?? People watch “India: The Modi Question” in Kochi, India, last month.
ARUN CHANDRABOS­E/ AFP VIA GETTY IMAGES People watch “India: The Modi Question” in Kochi, India, last month.
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