The news of the ‘postponement’ of Harud, a literary festival scheduled to be held in Kashmir in September, should be read with concern by those who believe in, and fight for, the right to express themselves freely. How the self-righteousness of some fighters for democracy actually forecloses any possibility of democracy can be seen from this incident.
In a statement last week, the organizers of Harud explained that they were forced to put off their festival as there was a concerted campaign by some people on the Internet, on Facebook and some other sites attacking the festival. According to these critics, “We fear, therefore, that holding such a festival would, willy-nilly, dovetail with the state’s concerted attempt to portray that all is normal in Kashmir. Even as the reality on the ground is one of utter abnormality and a state of acute militarisation and suppression of dissent, rights and freedoms.”
The urganizers of Harud had dared to call the event apolitical, which did not go down well with the critics of the event. They demanded that the description be withdrawn. One of the signatories went to the extent of demanding an apology from the organizers for having committed the cardinal sin of suggesting that there could be something apolitical in Kashmir. They asked them to come clean on their source of funding and their affiliations. When they clarified that the event was not sponsored by the Indian state and was privately funded and aimed to create a platform for free and open debate , discussion and dialogue through contemporary narratives, literary fiction and poetry, it was not found acceptable and the campaign persisted.
Meanwhile a hint was dropped by anonymous activists on Facebook about the possibility of Salman Rushdie participating in the festival. Eventually, the campaign against the festival reached a level where the authors started feeling insecure and the organisers did not feel confident that the event could be held peacefully.
What is even more disturbing is that the campaigners against Harud are now blaming the organizers themselves for shutting down the event to evade questioning. They claim that their campaign was only an interrogation regarding the intent of the organizers, and that their decision to postpone it shows there was something fishy about the whole thing. The refusal of the organizers to withdraw the term ‘apolitical’ fuelled their suspicion that it was designed to gloss over the violent reality of Kashmir.
The organizers were also castigated for choosing Kashmir University and Delhi Public School as the venues. In the opinion of the critics, since KU does not have basic democratic structures like a student union, it stands disqualified as a space where ideas would flow freely. Even if that were possible, the protesters say it would be in “a bubble, a miasma of freedom, while the life and dignity of ordinary citizens is being violated out in the streets”.
Where does it leave the festival then? First you call it a travesty, then an Indian state sponsored event without any possibility of free debate and finally the argument is closed by saying that even if it is free and diverse , it stands illegitimate and therefore undesirable since there is killing taking place outside.
Whether we are allowed to call a part of our being ‘apolitical’ or not could be a matter of academic or philosophical discussion. To settle this question in statements is not only puzzling but worrying. To force somebody to concede that there cannot be anything apolitical in a situation like Kashmir is utterly violent. Also to indicate that no activity should be allowed which gives an impression of normalcy is something which goes against the principles of life. We reside in normal and abnormal spheres simultaneously. Is laughter disallowed in Lebanon or Gaza or Kashmir? Do we not love in the times of death and destruction? But literature, we all know is about all this and much more. A gathering of persons dealing in word and language is aware of its responsibility of asking complex questions about life and being, an awareness which seems to escape the custodians and warriors of ‘Truth’.
Many a times, efforts to restore ordinariness to a situation like Kashmir can have far wider and critical consequences than slogan shouting and processions. Literature is part of this ordinary. I know that simple initiatives for creating possibilities of livelihood for Kashmiri women can invite reprisal and wrath from some quarters. I also have narratives from persons like Shabnam Hashmi and her colleagues, who, before starting some projects for women and youth in Kashmir, went to an expert who very solemnly told them that the best thing to do for Kashmir is to do nothing! I know of numerous stories where people like them received threats from militant groups and other experts when they held drama-film festivals and other programmes and had to sometimes suspend their activities. There are still many of them who continue with their activities, thereby putting their lives at risk, but since they are doing things which can give an impression of normalcy in the everyday life of Kashmir, they can also dubbed as Indian agents.
What we are witnessing is the emergence of self-selected ‘interpretative communities’ around specific causes, who, with the power of their cultural capital, disallow any other version to be heard. We have very recently witnessed, in the Anna Hazare movement, the victory of one variety of this community, which claimed that it was the sole source of legitimacy. A similar victory has now been scored by yet another set of interpreters of the Truth in Kashmir.
Can one say that their long intellectual investment in the pain of Kashmiris has led them to a state where they do not want its dividends to be shared? Or, that if students and youth and other Kashmiris flock to an event like this, their seamless narrative of pain would be ruptured? Troubled, I travel to Mahmoud Darwish, a chronicler of pain and suffering and life of his people and hear him whisper, “the critics kill me sometimes: / they want a particular poem / a particular metaphor / and if I stray up a side road / they say: ‘ He has betrayed the road’…. and if I look up at the sky to see / the unseen / they say poetry has strayed far from its objectives.”
Not allowing anyone to stray up a side road is what the critics of Harud are doing by denying it the right to identify itself as apolitical. They are, in my poet’s words, the real killers.
(First published in The Hindu.)
From Kafila archives:
KAFILA - COLLECTIVE EXPLORATIONS SINCE 2006 
Well said! The Kashmiri Chai Party cannot allow any other narrative other than its own.
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The day when Kashmir (only Valley minus the Amarnath Cave Temple area and enclosing district) leaves, or is abandoned by, India, I think we can heave a sigh of relief saying: “Good riddance!”. At least I will. There is no point in prolonging this agony and catering to or being dictated by religious fundamentalist forces. Kashmir is really a partition problem, a legacy of the unfinished partition in 1947-48 and the only solution I think and believe is partitioning it between Pakistan and India, with we Indians at least retaining the full possession, control and integration of Jammu, Ladakh and Amarnath Cave Temple precincts district.
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Kashmir is under Indian rule (oppression). It must be freed.
But freedom too will lead to bloodshed, that is the saddest thing.
Coming to the lit fest, we should boycott the Jaipur lit fest too (same organizers). Or rather go there in Jan and do a wholehearted protest!
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I think Basharat Peer has offered here a full and convincing explanation of the background to the eventual calling off of the Harud festival. I dont think he and others who signed that letter in kafila (including myself) would answer in the negative to your question Apoorvanand, “are laughter and love disallowed in the time of death and destruction”. The point that any of us would make has to do with questioning whether “laughter and love” are actually missing in Kashmir, which can only be be brought back by a festival with explicitly political backing. it is worth quoting Basharat on this:
“It has also been said that our opposition to the festival has denied young Kashmiris a chance to interact with several visiting authors. Let this be clear: Young Kashmiris don’t depend on a glance or a hasty chat with a visiting author to understand the mechanics of writing. An intense conversation about the craft and politics of writing has been going on, away from the glare of the press and frenzy of social media, in many rooms in Kashmir.”
I’m also amused by your criticism of both the Anna movement and this campaign as “the emergence of self-selected ‘interpretative communities’ around specific causes.”
You may have given us here a succinct definition of politics itself!
Various kinds of unambiguously ‘progressive’ interventions, including many of which you and I, Apoorvanand, have both been part together, could be described as such. The possibilities of constituting self-selected ‘interpretative communities’ is precisely what distinguishes democracy from its opposite.
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Bashrat Peer and Mirza Waheed should stop acting as the torchbearers of restoring peace and harmony in Kashmir. Agreed , that they know more about the harsh realities of Kashmir and its problems than many others but it does not give them a free hand to exercise their opinions on any form of social activity . Moreover , this was not about throwing a party and inviting people from outside to enjoy the beauty of Kashmir ( as Roman Emperor Nero did), while the people of Kashmir are fuming with anger, protesting against the presence of Paramilitary Forces and demanding their ‘Azadi’.
And according to the group against The Harud Literary Festival, Kashmir should not indulge into any kind of activity that promotes voicing of opinions and meeting of people from different corners of the world .
Leaving apart the Harud Festival incident , one thing is very clear – Everyone has a view on Kashmir and feels that their view represents the people of KASHMIR. We are still neglecting the voices of people in Kashmir.
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Apoorvanand, a few paragraphs into your post you raise the question of the ‘political’, something Nivedita has also take you up on. You say, “Whether we are allowed to call a part of our being ‘apolitical’ or not could be a matter of academic or philosophical discussion. To settle this question in statements is not only puzzling but worrying. To force somebody to concede that there cannot be anything apolitical in a situation like Kashmir is utterly violent. Also to indicate that no activity should be allowed which gives an impression of normalcy is something which goes against the principles of life.”
If one ignores the issue of what means and language were adopted to register an opposition to the literary festival by the signatories of the open letter (a matter that is relatively more transparent, and thus easier to settle), we get to the crux of the issue – the idea of the political. More specifically, the question of what is political and apolitical. Certainly as you say it is a matter of philosophical debate. My question is, what were the possibilities of such a debate taking place within the context of the festival itself? Seems to be that there were no possibilities, because the organisers had jumped the gun and called it apolitical. There are numerous occasions in which extremely important interventions in a ‘disturbed zone’ (read: military occupation) will call themselves ‘NGO’ or ‘humanitarian’ interventions. Apart from Kashmir, one clear example is Dr. Binayak Sen. He perhaps saw his work as apolitical, the state wasn’t quite convinced, since it is a pretty serious life-choice to throw away a lucrative city job to go into the forests and treat potential Naxals. Never mind the good doctor’s own complex motivations and politics, the state was suspicious, and termed him pro-Naxal. Hundreds of organisations in Kashmir, including that bizarre bunch that call themselves peace and conflict resolution practitioners may call themselves apolitical in order to avoid suspicion, or simply because they do actually see themselves as outside of politics. But is anything? Is poetry and art apolitical?The ‘principles of life’ you refer to, how are they outside of a discourse, an interpretative exercise that is always-already political? If a filmmaker makes a film on Kashmir (let’s say it’s a “simple love story”) is that apolitical? You may choose to call yourself apolitical for strategic reasons or because you have a particular conception of politics, but the way your act will be received by not simply the local interpretative community but by all manner of interests is never apolitical. In a place like Kashmir, in which a brutal, ongoing repression is on, doubly so. What are the literary and political acrobatics that the festival organisers must have to perform, to maintain their ‘apolitical’ stance and pull this festival off? All those acrobatics are politics. And as Basharat’s article demonstrates, not particularly clear or transparent politics either. To raise the all-present question of politics in the context of Kashmir is not fascism, to foreclose the possibility of that question is fascism.
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Lest it be misinterpreted, my comment on Binayak Sen was not about how he sees his own work. He has every right to describe his work as apolitical, if he chooses to do so, since he may be under pressure from the State. But I would in an ideal world, like to see the freedom to describe all activity as political, in the broadest sense of the word. The real tragedy is the pressure put by regimes and organised interests on suspect populations/zones, forcing them to describe themselves as apolitical, even as they see their work and their lives as living manifestations of their politics. About the organisers of the literary festival, I don’t know if they were under pressure, if it was a form of self-censorship, or was it pure naivete? Those opposed to the description have every right to call them out on this crucial matter, if only it opens up a debate about what any intellectual or artistic activity in Kashmir actually involves today. To that extent, the signatories of the open letter would seem to have performed a valuable democratic service.
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So so beautifully written. A very thoughtful observation this- about “self-selected ‘interpretative communities’ around specific causes, who, with the power of their cultural capital, disallow any other version to be heard” – these interpretive communities also exist within us, disallowing our selves to accept our polytheistic nature and accepting our selves as capable of appreciating so much more and becoming so much more than what we are playing out to be.
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