Have you ever been in the shower
in a 5-star hotel, nice and wet all over and you reach for the shampoo bottle,
only to find that there are three? That is not because you are drunk and are
seeing triple but because you are faced with three identical bottles but with
totally different contents. What is in the bottles is not a mystery of course.
It has been helpfully printed on the label. However, the label was designed by
a 20-something design engineer sitting in a sweatshop in India or Bangladesh,
who has never seen the inside of a 5-star hotel shower and won’t until he gets
old enough to need glasses to read and the money to pay for the hotel. Then he
will realize what he did all his life when he is forced to play Russian
Roulette with the shampoo, body lotion (complicated way to say ‘soap’) and
conditioner. If you think this is funny, put conditioner on your head instead
of shampoo and you will think that is even funnier. That is perhaps the reason
why I had to decline a haircut recently which was for Rs. 350 on the plea that
I refuse to pay more than Re. 1 per hair, aforementioned number being an
optimistic hair-count of my head. The refusal of hair to adhere to my scalp may
be ascribed to the times that I used conditioner instead of shampoo. No
self-respecting hair can stand such treatment and so they decide to part
company with me forever.
“What’s the big deal?” you ask
me. “Why can’t you read the label?”
“I need glasses to read but I
don’t need glasses to shower. So, I don’t wear glasses in the shower, which is
where I need glasses to read the labels on the bottles.”
What is the solution?
Take all shower bottle label
designers to a 5-star hotel, blindfold them, strip them naked and shove them
into the shower.
Why blindfold them?
How else will they understand how
it feels to hold the bottle in your hand and not know what is in it?
Customer Satisfaction and
Customer Delight can be condensed into one phrase and that is, “See with their eyes.” The keyword being ‘Their’.
As they say, ‘When you gotta go
you gotta go.’ But then the question arises, where does he go? And what’s more,
what if he had to do more than just irrigate the tracks? And even more
critical, what if the ‘Motorman’ was a ‘Motorwoman’. Incidentally for those who
may think that I am being facetious, let me assure you that I have seldom been
more serious in my life. This, lack of facilities to do it decently and in
private, is a major problem with Traffic Police Constables also, especially
women Constables. Maybe the fact that we don’t have a distinct word for a
woman police constable is an indicator of our blindness to their
needs.
To return to our ‘Motorman’ video
and the lessons from it, the reason the man has to do what he did is because
the designer of the engine driver’s cab, never drove an engine in his life. If
you think I am exaggerating, let me tell you another story.
In 2000 I was invited to teach a
series of leadership courses, which we called From Managing to Leading, for the
design team of one of the two major truck manufacturers in India. There were
totally two hundred engineers who would take this 3-day residential course at
their training facility. They were all graduates from the IITs (Indian
Institutes of Technology) with a sprinkling from REC’s (Regional Engineering
College); some of the most highly qualified engineers in the country. The IITs
have an entrance test about which someone asked one of the professors of MIT
what he would do if he had to write that test. He said, ‘I would leave, in tears.’
In short these were very smart people with arrogance to match. I asked for a
meeting with the Head of the Division, the Head of HR and a cross section of
the design engineers to understand their issues so that I could design a
program that suited their special needs. This is how that went:
Me: “Many thanks for agreeing to
meet me. I am hoping to understand from you, what you see as the special
leadership challenges that you face and what you see as being the key
deliverables for this course. So, let me begin with a question to all and each
of you; Do you have a heavy license (license to drive a truck)?”
They: Thinking: Total silence.
Odd looks. “Looks like we made a mistake. This guy looks like he’s flipped it.
Heavy license? Why on earth would we, IIT grads, have a heavy license? Do we
look like truck drivers to him?” But then this is India and he is older than we
are, so we can’t just tell him that he is crazy. So, we remain silent.
Me: “Hmm! Does this mean that you
don’t have a truck driving license? Nobody has one?”
They: “Yes.”
Me: “You mean that you design
these trucks but none of you has ever driven what you designed?”
They: Thinking: “Now this is
getting uncomfortable. How do we answer this?”
“No.”
Me: Thinking: “Expressive
lot!!”
“Okay, let me ask you another
question; How many of you sat with the driver in one of your trucks as he drove
from Chandigarh to Chennai?”
Eyes roll, silence is now so
heavy that it is oppressive.
They: “Nobody.”
Me: “Okay, Chandigarh to Chennai
is long, though your trucks are being driven on that route. But let me make it
simpler; has anyone sat with the driver as he drove from Chennai to Bangalore?”
Eyes roll again. More silence.
They: “No.”
Me: Now I am twisting the knife: “So,
you are telling me that you design trucks that you have never driven or ridden
in?”
They: Sheepishly: “Yes.”
Me: “Let me ask you another
question: Who makes the buying decision in the case of a truck?”
They: “The owner of the trucking
company.”
Me: “Right and wrong. The owner
‘decides’ but he is totally influenced by his drivers. If the drivers like a
certain brand of truck, the owner will always buy that brand unless there is a
huge price difference between that brand and its competitor. No owner wants
unhappy drivers who are constantly complaining about the truck which results in
slower turnaround time, directly translating to lower profits. The owner wants
the best, most efficient transport and his driver decides. Who is that driver?
He is the one whose reality you have not even tried to understand. You were
looking at me like I was crazy when I asked if you had a heavy license. What do
you say now?”
Sadly, this inability to see with their eyes is widespread and is the real reason behind bad design and
bad service.
Try an experiment. Walk down a
street that you usually walk down. Notice how it looks and try to remember the
details. When you get to the end of the street or if it is a long street, then
when you have walked a few hundred meters, turn around and look up the street
you just walked down. How does it look? Does it look like it had been a few
minutes ago when you walked down it? Or does it look different? This is a good
way to understand how perspective is a factor of position. What you see depends
on where you look at it from. The same principle holds in life. One of my
friends, a senior police officer was talking to me about human trafficking,
which is a very big issue in India. She talked about how her subordinate
officers seemed to have become calloused about it. She asked me for ideas about
how she could get them inspired to solve human trafficking cases and bring the
perpetrators of urban slavery to book. I told her, “Ask them to give the victim
a name. The name of their daughter.” Simple as it sounds, it worked. Things
change complexion when we put ourselves in the shoes of the ‘other’. The other
is no longer a stranger to be ignored at best or at worst, maligned and hated.
We see the other, and in him, we
see ourselves.
This is the origin of the Golden
Rule: “Do unto others what you would have them do unto you.” Or as someone else
put it: “Don’t do to others what you wouldn’t want them to do to you.” Or as yet
someone else put it: “People may forget what you did but they will never forget
how you made them feel.”
See with ‘their’ eyes
Before I end, let me assure you
that this is not about business or winning customers. The biggest lesson I learnt
in this context was one week after I got married. I married when I was thirty
and had been living alone since I was eighteen. We got married in Hyderabad and
left the next day for the Anamallais (where I was an Assistant Manager in the
tea gardens) we arrived in Madras at my aunt’s place. Jahanara Aunty and Mohammed
Uncle were absolute gems whose hospitality was legendary and recalled to this
day by everyone who was fortunate enough to enjoy it. Two
days later we boarded the train for Coimbatore from where we drove up the
Aliyar Ghat of forty hairpin bends. Samina was violently sick all the way up
the Ghat. Being prone to motion sickness anyway, the Ghat road was not doing
her any good at all. I was very concerned because this Ghat road was a given if
we lived in the Anamallais and with Samina being so sick on it, it didn’t seem
to portend well for us. The prospect of a repeat performance every time we
traveled was definitely not something to look forward to. But as it happened
after a couple of trips Samina got over her motion sickness altogether. Maybe
the Ghat road shocked it out of her system.
It was
a tradition that estate workers welcomed the Assistant Manager when he returned
with his wife. But it was not something that happened always. The workers
decided who they wanted to welcome and who they didn’t. In our case as our car
rounded the bend off the Sholayar Dam and came towards ‘Black Bridge,’ we were
stopped and requested to alight. Samina and I came out of the car, glad for the
chance to stretch our legs. The road was lined with girls who sang a welcome
song and showered us with flower petals as we walked through this guard of
honor. We were taken to a pavilion which I realized had been made by tying the
best sarees of the women to the poles and decorated with lots of flowers. Tea
garden workers can be the most loving people in the world and if you were good
to them, they appreciated it and reciprocated. I saw many examples of that in
my decade long career. We were garlanded and sat at a table on the two grandest
chairs that they could find. Then we were served tea and biscuits and sweets.
It was then that a depressed fly decided to end its meaningless life in my
wife’s teacup. But Samina, being the perfect lady that she is, merely fished the
fly out and drank the tea without batting an eyelid. An amazing performance
which saved us from a lot of embarrassment.
Then
speeches were made, and the women danced and sang a song in our honor in which
we were mentioned repeatedly in sometimes a humorous way and sometimes with
great respect. The amazing thing was that this song was made up then and there
and they sang about various habits of mine, including singing while I rode my
motorcycle. People observe you and remember and respond to you the way they perceive
you. People listen with their eyes. They don’t care what you say, until they
see what you do. I have seen this in my life more times than I can possibly recall.
All the more reason to ensure that whatever it was, remained good and
honorable.
At
the end of all this song and dance there were some speeches by the local union
leaders and one supervisor and then I was asked to speak. It was permitted for
the manager to speak in English and the speech would be translated. But I had
learnt Tamil for occasions such as these and spoke it well, much to everyone’s
delight. When I had finished and thanked them for all their trouble and
expressed our gratitude for the honor that we had been granted, they gave my
wife a gold ring as their gift as a mark of their love and honor for me. I was
floored. These were poor people who had collected money for this, something
which was not expected of them at all. What could I say? As I mentioned
earlier, Managers and workers in the plantations form bonds that are more like
family than anything else.
That
story was the background for the lesson I mentioned earlier. A lesson in seeing
with ‘their’ eyes. It was about a week later when one day I was saying something
to my wife about my car and so on when she stopped me and said, ‘If you keep talking
about everything as my-this and my-that, how will I ever feel that I share it
with you?’ I was flabbergasted. I didn’t realize the effect of my perfectly
innocuous speech on my wife. I had lived alone since I was eighteen and was
used to thinking of everything as being mine. Sharing didn’t come into it as I’d
had nobody to share with. But now I did. I realized that I needed to change my
outlook. I needed to see with her eyes. Today, thirty-four years later, I am
very happy that I learnt that lesson.
“So, what is our goal? To change their
attitude, or to convince them that they need to change it themselves?”
“That is challenging, difficult, will
take sweat and tears……….do I really want to even try it?”
“Ah!
We are now at the root of the problem and it is: Do I want to change my own
attitude?”
Attitude is at the root of everything. Attitude decides whether we will succeed or fail. Whether when in difficulty, even that which seems to be life threatening, if we will survive or perish. Attitude decides if when hit by life (or by someone) we stay down or get up. And how many times we get up. And what the result of getting up every time we fall, will be. Attitude, not wealth, dictates happiness. If you don’t believe me, watch slum children leaping into pools of rainwater after the first rains. Do they look happy? Then go and watch your children, who will most likely be complaining about the rain. And ask yourself, “Who has more wealth?” I know that is a dumb question, but then to decide to remain dumb is an attitude issue. To decide to remain blind, even though we have eyes is an attitude issue. To witness a crime in progress and to decide to take a video to post on Instagram, instead of taking action to prevent the crime or to help the victim, is a matter of attitude. Cherophobia (the fear of being ‘too happy’ because you feel that if you allow yourself to feel happy, then disaster will strike), is a matter of attitude. Satisfaction, gratitude, ambition, courage, compassion are all attitudes. So also, are their opposites. And each one has an impact on our life.
(As Agara – A – is the
first letter of the alphabet, so also God is before all creation)
In the same way,
attitude comes before all situations and circumstances and decides how they
will affect us. Incidentally, another A-word; affect. Let me tell you some stories
to illustrate what I mean.
It was 1987 and I was
doing a course at XLRI, Jamshedpur. One evening my friends decided to show me
the sights around Jamshedpur. As we drove in the Hindustan Ambassador car,
which was provided for us, the road suddenly deteriorated. My friend announced,
“This is where Jamshedpur ends, and Bihar begins.” We continued onwards, headed
towards Dimna lake and bird sanctuary. This is a lake made by Tata Steel and
provides drinking water to Jamshedpur. On the way we stopped at a traffic
light. The road was a patchwork of potholes joined together by bits of tarmac
to prove that once upon a time when the world was young, it had been surfaced
with bitumen. As I was contemplating life and its trials, a young boy came coasting
down the slope on his bicycle a bit oblivious to his situation and hit a
pothole, bounced out of it and yelled, ‘Wah! Kya khadda hai!’ (Wow! What a
pothole!). Today I am writing this on July 13, 2019, 32 years later, but the
incident is fresh in my memory. I remind myself that nothing changed for that
kid or for me. The road, the potholes, the responsibility of the government,
the use of taxes, you name it, everything remained the same. Yet that kid
decided to be happy. So, when he hit a pothole, he appreciated the pothole
instead of complaining. A matter of attitude.
In my view the best
thing about attitude is that it is entirely in my control. Nobody can give it
to me or take it from me or change it for me or do anything at all with my
attitude. I, and only I, can have whatever attitude I want to. So only I, can
decide if I want to be sad, glad, bad, mad or whatever. That means that until I
want to change it, nobody can help me and if I want to change it, nobody can
stop me. That is power.
In
1978, soon after I finished graduation with a BA in history, political science
and Urdu literature, I boarded a flight for Guyana where my father was on a
one-year assignment, with the Guyana Mining Enterprise hospital in Linden. It
was a long flight and a long story. I flew from Hyderabad to Bombay to London
to New York to Miami to Georgetown which took more than 24 hours. I flew in a SE
210 Caravelle, Boeing 707, McDonnell Douglas DC-10, and Boeing 707 once again.
I flew on Indian Airlines, British Airways, Pan Am (Pan American World
Airways), Delta and BWIA. And at the end of it all, more than 24 hours after I
left Hyderabad, I arrived literally at the other end of the world, without my
baggage. My baggage apparently had other travel plans and I have no idea which
country it was destined for. But for me that meant that not only did I get to
lose all my worldly possessions but also the proof of my education, my degree
certificate, which I had kept in my checked-in baggage for safety.
Guyana, my first home
I should have been devastated. I wasn’t. It took
me about ten minutes to come to terms with the fact that I was walking with all
my worldly assets, the shirt on my back. I found this was a very liberating
idea. In Guyana I got a job, lived and worked in a small mining town in the
middle of the rainforest. My experience of the five years that I spent there
was far from negative. It was one of the most enjoyable and rewarding periods
of my life during which I made lifelong friendships, had many unique
experiences, and learnt a huge amount about human relations and conflict
management which has stood me in good stead throughout my career, now many
decades later. I will talk about those days in context in the articles and
podcasts that will come later but want to say that all this happened because of
the way I approached the challenge.
For one thing, I didn’t see it as a ‘challenge =
difficulty’, at all. I saw it as the possibility to have great fun and great
learning, each day filled with new possibilities. I was in a new country,
totally new (alien!!) culture, food, climate, language, working with people who
were completely different from me in every way, living in a part of the world
that I had never been in and which was as different from my life in Hyderabad
as to make it seem like I was on another planet. Yet it turned out to be one of
the best periods of my life which I recall very fondly today, more than forty
years later. The reason was attitude.
Attitude therefore is how you choose to see what
you are faced with. You can choose to appreciate the good in it and enjoy it
and to see the difficulties as you look at weights in the gym; something that
is tough to lift but can only benefit you if you do. Who makes that choice?
You.
Back home in India, I worked in the plantation
industry for ten years, managing tea, and rubber plantations with coffee,
cardamom, coconut and vanilla thrown in, before striking out into the field of
leadership consulting. During my last three years in the company, I was posted
as Manager of the company’s operations in Kanyakumari District in Tamilnadu.
That comprised of two rubber estates, two factories and a higher secondary
school. The challenge there was the labor force, which was highly militant,
unionized, communist union (CITU – Marxist) and a history of tension between
the management and union. To spice up my life I had an immediate task of
introducing Controlled Upward Tapping (CUT) in rubber. This involved the
tappers using special tapping knives to tap upwards instead of the normal
downward tap. This put a strain on their shoulders and initially it could be
uncomfortable, even painful, until they got used to it. The standard response
to this was to refuse to do it. That led to tensions and some ugly situations
before I got there, including an Assistant Manager having been grievously
assaulted. My challenge was to get the workers to accept this method of
tapping, which meant that I had to convert their dislike and resistance to
liking. To change their attitude from resistance to acceptance.
I spoke to another company in Kerala who were
using this technique and had good results. I requested their management to
allow me to send my tappers to visit them to see their tapping, meet their
tappers and talk to them about the technique. I wanted them to do this freely
without any supervision, so I didn’t go with them. I sent them in a bus and
arranged for them to have a nice sumptuous meal with their hosts and to be
given CUT knives as a take-away gift (for which we paid). I told them to go and
see the work, ask any questions that they wanted to ask their compatriots and
satisfy themselves that this method was a good method for them to earn more
income as well as something which would not be difficult to do after they had
gotten used to the new angle of tapping. All this was treated with suspicion to
begin with, given the history of management labor relations, but I expected
that and didn’t react to it. However, the prospect of a company paid holiday
was tempting and unique and so they went. After that, as they say, the rest is
history. They returned enthusiastic about trying out the new technique and when
they saw that as promised, their yield was better resulting in better earning,
there was nothing more for me to do.
What I had been able to do was to get them tuned
into the channel that everyone listens to; WiiFM (What’s in it For Me). That is
the key to attitude change. Get people to see what’s in the change for them.
Help them to see how they will benefit. Naturally they must really benefit. It
is not a PR exercise. If there is really no benefit, then you will lose
credibility big time if you try to sell it. But it happens often that people
don’t see the benefit until you can show it to them. Once they see how they
will gain by changing their attitude, it happens easily enough. The challenge
is for us to show it to them.
What is essential for the one wanting to bring
about attitude change is to put himself into the shoes of the other and see their
world through their eyes. I had a very interesting experience in this context.
I was doing a series of coaching skills workshops for senior management at
ICRISAT in Hyderabad. This required helping people understand the fact that you
can never coach anyone effectively if you don’t see their world through their
eyes. In other words, you need to put yourself in their shoes. To illustrate
this, I took off my shoes and said to the Deputy Director General, the most
senior manager who was sitting right in front, “Please get into my shoes.”
He got up very reluctantly and started to take his
shoes off. I stopped him when he had taken one shoe off. I asked him, “What are
you doing?”
He looked surprised and replied rather testily,
“Taking off my shoes.”
I asked, “Why?”
He looked really exasperated and said, “How else
can I get into your shoes?” Then it suddenly dawned on him and he almost
yelled, “Wah! What an insight!! I can never get into your shoes until I take my
own shoes off. Wah! Sahab Wah!”
It is often as simple as that. The lesson is
simple but very powerful.
If we want to change people’s attitudes, we need
to first change our own. We must own up that we need to see their world as they
see and feel it. We must empathize and understand. Then we need to show them
how they will benefit from the change. Only then will it happen.
June 17, 2019…the saddest day in recent memory.
The day when Dr. Mohamed Morsi, the first democratically elected President of
Egypt, died in a Kangaroo Court defending himself against ridiculous trumped up
charges. He was not granted a public funeral, a mark of the fear that even the
dead body of a man of truth, inspires in the cowardly hearts of those who
manage to kill him. That is because humans can be killed but what they stood
for, lives on and continues to inspire others, long after they are gone. May
Allahﷻ grant
this pious man the best of rewards in Jannah. May the Qur’an become his Hafiz
in the Aakhira, as he was its Hafiz in this life. His death
underlines the fact that what is important is not whether we live or die,
because everyone dies. What is important is how we die and what we die for.
Morsi left his mark in history. I was in Egypt in 2014 and wrote this piece. https://yawarbaig.com/wherearetheleaders/if-i-were-president-of-egypt/
All humans make mistakes and all mistakes are
opportunities to learn from. That is their only use. When we learn from them,
we don’t make the same mistakes again. When we don’t, we are destined to make
the same mistakes over and over until we learn. ‘Nations (people) that don’t
learn from history are condemned to repeat it.’ Morsi was human and I am sure
if he were alive, he would have been very happy to analyze what happened and
what should be done differently the next time around.
This is my attempt at trying to learn some lessons
from history. Let me warn you in advance that if any analysis is to make
meaning or prove useful, it must be divorced from emotion. I know that many of
my readers, indeed I myself, can think of many excuses for what Morsi did and
explain each action away by seeking refuge behind ‘good intentions’,
‘commitment to Islam’, ‘personal piety of Morsi’ and so on. That would be
totally counterproductive. The issue here is not how the supporters of Morsi
see his decisions or the actions of his party, but how others did and do. It
was that which brought about the tragic events leading to the reinstatement of
dictatorship and the death of Morsi and hundreds of his followers. Surely, that
is a sacrifice which should be enough for us to ask some tough questions and
face some unpleasant facts.
Let us see how things were when Morsi and his
party won the election in Egypt. Egypt is an African country but since its
conquest by Amr ibn Al A’as ® and Abu Ubaida ® in the time of Omar ibn Al
Khattab ®, it has been Arab. Arabic became its language and over the centuries
it was the seat of several powerful Muslim Empires, including the Mamluks who
in the Battle of Ain Jalut in 1260 defeated the army of Hulegu Khan, the
grandson of Genghis Khan. The first time that a Mongol army had been defeated
by anyone. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Ain_Jalut
In more recent times, thanks to its size,
population, education, the Arab film industry, Al Azhar University and the
global fame in recitation of the Qur’an, Egypt is the leader of the Arab world.
Though it is an African country, it is more than likely that anyone who is asked
to list the top three most significant countries in Africa and the Arab world,
will list Egypt in the Arab world and not in Africa. So, what happens in Egypt
has repercussions in the world in general but very particularly and powerfully
in the Arab world. Egypt, apart from this is the only country in the Arab world
which is not a hereditary monarchy and has had elected leaders, even if all of
them, excluding Morsi were elected in sham elections and were really dictators.
Yet they were never called ‘King’ or any of its variations and were always
‘President’. This is another reason why Egypt is important because it is a
major departure from the norm of rulers and the ruled, in the region. When the
so-called Arab Spring happened in Egypt, with the fall of the reigning dictator
Hosni Mubarak and the election of Dr. Mohamed Morsi, it was a watershed. It was
a marker in history that a new era was about to be ushered in.
The popularity of Morsi and his party was
unquestioned. The symbolism of people in Tahrir Square, the energy they
displayed, Muslims praying, with Christians standing around them guarding them
from any would-be mischief makers, myriad images on TV, social media and print
media of the events leading to the final removal of Mubarak and the swearing-in
of Morsi, all signaled that the destiny, not only of Egypt, but of the Arab
world, was about to change. Very heady stuff or very alarming stuff, depending
on who was watching. All went well in the beginning. Morsi was welcomed at
home. He met the Coptic Pope and assured him that his government would
safeguard the interest of the Christian minority; which though a minority, is
very significant and powerful in Egypt and has international support. He was
invited by King Abdulla bin Abdul Aziz of Saudi Arabia to visit and was
accorded full honors as Head of State and promised to help him with financial
aid. The fact that he was a Hafiz of the Qur’an was mentioned with almost every
mention of him as a person. His humility, piety, clean politics, innocence even,
was the talk of the town, as it were. He was welcomed and applauded in all Arab
countries and practically everywhere else.
Back home however, expectations were high; in
keeping with domestic problems, the chief of them being employment. No matter
who the President may be, people need jobs and food on the table. The burden
that popularly elected leaders get to bear is to deal with high, most of the
time unreasonably high, expectations of those who elected them. Part of the
reason is the election campaigns themselves where leaders must promise to pave
the streets with gold, in order to win elections. Nobody in today’s world will
vote for a leader who speaks the truth and says, ‘After you elect me, you will
still have to go to work and work very hard to feed your family. I will promise
you a clean government, law and order, safety and security, an education system
that will create skilled people over the years, a working medical and
health care system and clean and safe cities. But you are responsible for
yourselves and your families and you must pay taxes to enable the government to
give you all of what I promised you.’ That is perhaps the best speech, which
though totally truthful, is guaranteed never to get you elected. So, leaders
promise to put not merely bread, but Biryani or Lahm Mandi on every table for
every meal at the expense of the state. I am saying this figuratively but the
idea in any election campaign is to make the alternative to status quo look so
attractive that people will be inspired to do whatever it takes to bring in the
new regime. This is the system followed all over the world with its
consequences clearly visible to anyone who chooses to see. Most choose not to.
Ditto Egypt.
Wikipedia has this to say about the events of the
time:
As president, Morsi issued a temporary
constitutional declaration in November 2012 that in effect granted him
unlimited powers and the power
to legislate without judicial oversight or review of his
acts as a pre-emptive move against the expected dissolution of the second
constituent assembly by the Mubarak-era judges. The new
constitution that was then hastily finalized by
the Islamist-dominated constitutional assembly, presented to the
president, and scheduled for a referendum before the Supreme
Constitutional Court could rule on the constitutionality of the assembly,
was described by independent press agencies not aligned with the regime as an
“Islamist coup”. These issues, along with complaints of
prosecutions of journalists and attacks on nonviolent demonstrators, led to the 2012 protests. As
part of a compromise, Morsi rescinded the decrees. In the
referendum on the new constitution, it was approved by approximately two-thirds
of voters.
On 30 June 2013, protests erupted across Egypt, in
which protesters called for the president’s resignation. In response to
the events, Morsi was given a 48-hour ultimatum by Egypt’s military to
meet their demands and to resolve political differences, or else they would
intervene by “implementing their own road map” for the country. He
was unseated on 3 July by a military coup council consisting of
Defense Minister Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, opposition leader Mohamed
ElBaradei, the Grand Imam of Al Azhar Ahmed el-Tayeb, and Coptic
Pope Tawadros II. The military suspended the constitution and appointed
the President of the Supreme Constitutional Court of Egypt, Adly Mansour, as
the interim president. The Muslim Brotherhood protested against
the military coup, but the pro-Morsi protests were crushed in the August
2013 Rabaa massacre in which at least 817 civilians were
killed. Opposition leader ElBaradei quit in protest at the massacre.
In simple terms what are we seeing here (what did
the people see)?
Someone
who promised to be democratic, showing that inside the façade lives a dictator
who didn’t take long to have himself declared, “granted him unlimited powers
and the power to legislate without judicial oversight or
review of his acts”. {Public perception: Alarm, chagrin, rage!!! Did
we go through all this to get another Mubarak?}
And
then he does something that no leader must EVER do. He, “As part of a
compromise, Morsi rescinded the decrees.” {Opposition’s reaction: Ah!Gotcha!! He is weak. Bring
him down. Get rid of him. We respect strength. Nothing else.} The rest is
history.
Sisi took over; arrested Morsi, slaughtered
protestors and the Arab Spring turned into a wet squib.
Morsi (and his party and government) made four
cardinal mistakes, which proved suicidal.
Instead
of focusing on economic development, they got bogged down in ideology. Various
statements were made, including by Morsi himself, praising democratic elections
and thereby directly and indirectly criticizing (Arab) monarchies.
Instead
of focusing on building on the goodwill of the minority Christian and Jewish
population and bringing them all together on one Egyptian identity, Morsi and
his party raised the boogie of the Shari’ah and played right into the hands of
their opposition as well as raising the alarm with others. The attempt at
trying to get ‘unlimited powers and to legislate without judicial oversight’
were grist to the mill; a Godsend for anyone planning to bring Morsi and his
party down. The tragedy is that the only people who seem to have been blind to
this was Morsi & Co.
Instead
of focusing on internal issues of employment, hunger, health care, education
and others, it appeared that there was more focus on external issues, be it the
condition of Palestinians or giving aid to disaster affected people in
Indonesia. This coming from a country which almost literally was living off aid
from America and other Arab countries.
Perhaps
the most lethal of them; imagining that personal piety and incorruptibility is
a substitute for political sagacity and wisdom.
It bears to note that Sisi was Morsi’s Army
Commander, reporting to him as the President and at least in the beginning, at
his command and mercy, even to retain his job. Yet Morsi failed to control, let
alone neutralize him. Morsi’s death is tragic. But not surprising. His fate was
sealed when he displayed weakness.
What could he and his party have done? Here’s my
two-cents worth as a rank outsider who by virtue of that, perhaps has a clearer
view than those involved. Objectivity and perspective are a function of distance.
Homework. What seems to be clear is that the entire turn of
events, winning the election, overwhelming support of all people including
those normally opposed, culminating in being able to form a government, came as
a big surprise to Morsi and his party. I don’t believe they really believed
that they could win. So, they were not prepared to move from their position of
at best being in opposition, to being the ruling party. Their reactions seem to
me to be just that, reactions, and therefore unplanned. They were acting in the
moment without a clear (or any) view of why they were doing what they were
doing or what the likely consequences of that may turn out to be. Everything seems
to have been a surprise; some pleasant and some shocking. Clearly for all
aspiring leaders, homework is critical to success. The Shadow Cabinet in the
British Parliament is a brilliant example of preparation. Nothing like
simulation to understand the complexity of leadership and how to prepare for
it. But then, only those who expect to win, prepare for it. And sadly, those
who don’t prepare, squander the gains.
Celebrating
is for others. Keep your head
squarely on your shoulders and forget about celebrating. Let others do it. You,
the leader, must understand that when the celebration is over, it is you to
whom everyone is going to look for the future. So, what do you have to show
them? Can you deliver on what you promised? If yes, then when? If no, then what
is your plan to mitigate the inevitable disappointment? Once again it comes
down to preparation, anticipation and the ability to deliver on your promises. People
expect a change in status quo. That is what they voted for. They didn’t vote
for everything to be the same except the name of the leader. No matter how
‘unreasonable’ that may seem to you, the leader, that is what people expect and
you must give it to them. Maybe not everything, but enough to keep their hopes
high. If you don’t, then the disappointment after an unexpected victory is
proportionate to the joy.
Focus. For any leader, even more for the head of a major
nation like Egypt, there are a million demands on his attention; a million
causes all clamoring for him to deal with them. Focus in the art of ignoring
fluff. What is fluff in this case? It is everything that didn’t get you
elected. Other countries didn’t get you elected, neither did their rulers.
Neither did anything except the hopes of your own people. So, deal with them
before you do anything else. People elected Morsi not only because they loved
him (many didn’t) but because he represented a change from the horrible
dictatorship of Mubarak. If that change is not clearly visible, then it raises
anxiety. By definition, that anxiety will be disproportionate especially with
those who were perhaps anxious in the first place and elected Morsi because
they had no alternative. That means the Christians and Liberals. They need
reassurance. Constant reassurance that their decision was not wrong and that
they picked the right leader who will deliver on his promises and safeguard
their interests.
In such situations, people’s patience, tolerance
and the willingness to take pain, are always in very short supply. In Morsi and
his party’s case, they bore the burden of the negative image of Islam and his
party which was created by the global Islamophobia industry that all Muslims
are the target of, but at a much higher level. Fears arising out of that, no
matter how illogical they may have seemed to Morsi and his supporters, had to
be allayed. Perception is reality, even when it is erroneous. You can’t run
away from it. You must face it and lay it to rest through your visible actions.
As they say about justice, “Not only must it be done, but it must appear to be
done.” This holds true even more in this situation. Solution? Communicate,
communicate, communicate. Morsi didn’t. On the other hand, his government’s
actions fanned the flames and enhanced those fears. The resultant protests and
all that followed was certainly not unexpected, except to those who refused to
see the writing on the wall.
Economic Development. Generate employment. Infrastructure projects,
service projects, education and tourism. I have mentioned these in detail in my
other article quoted above so won’t repeat that here. But basically, give
people something to think about other than politics. Get them off the street
and out of the tea shops and into the workplace where they can earn some money.
This was all doable provided there had been a focus on it. Apart from the aid
from other countries, I have mentioned in my article different ways in which a
government can access funds and resources to generate employment and boost the
economy. Egypt is a resource rich country with a highly capable population. To
make it economically strong is not a difficult task. What has drained is
decades of dictatorship and the corruption that generates. A democratically
elected, clean government was just what the doctor ordered for Egypt. Sadly, it
never took off.
Act with decisiveness. A wrong decision pushed through does less damage
than a right decision that you are tentative and hesitant in implementing.
Morsi’s hardest task was to deal with a military that has gotten used to
ruling. Like Pakistan, where the army runs the show behind the scenes and
political leaders dance to their tune. This was probably the hardest task that
Morsi had; a legacy not to his liking or of his creation, but his
responsibility, nevertheless. What should he have done? I don’t think any
elaboration is necessary. The supremacy of civilian rule needed to be
established and institutionalized in a hostile environment. That needed a level
of wisdom, diplomacy and ruthlessness, which Morsi was not capable of. Like
major life saving surgery, it would have been painful and messy but needed to
be done with decisiveness and speed. That didn’t happen. Maybe Morsi was too
decent a human being for that. Whatever be the reason, the result was the
resurrection of dictatorship.
All that remains is to mourn the passing of a good
man and of the chance of a change of destiny for Egypt. May his memory be
honored, and may others learn lessons so that what he wanted to achieve may one
day be achieved by others. For men die. Not ideas or dreams. Dreams live on in
the hearts of people, to one day emerge and usher in a world that others, like
Morsi died for.
“So, how
did things get so bad?” I am sure you must have heard, asked or thought about
this yourself. So have I. Many times, over the years whenever I saw a
badly-behaved child being fed with the help of an iPad, a spaced-out teenager
who seems lost in his electronic world where Facebook friends are more real to
her than real human ones or when I read reports of rapes and murders being
filmed on smart phones by stupid people. And my instant reaction is, “It was
not like this 40 years ago. What went wrong?” And there would rest the case;
until the next episode. This is 2019 and so when I say, ‘40 years’ we are
talking about two generations; that is the 1980’s. It is not to say that
everything was hunky-dory until 1980 and suddenly in 1981 it all collapsed. But
it is a live demo of the truth of the ‘Boiled Frog Syndrome’.
For the
uninitiated, this has nothing to do with cuisine, but with gradual social
change which suddenly becomes starkly visible, having been unperceived for a
long time before that. The parable is that if you put a frog into a pot of hot
water, it will jump out. But if you put the frog into a pot of water at room
temperature and allow it to get comfortable in it; then you light a fire under
the pot and gradually heat the water, the frog doesn’t register that the water
is getting hotter. It continues to feel comfortable in the water which is
getting hotter and hotter until it reaches a point when it does register that
things are not the same but by then it is too late, and the frog gets boiled.
That is what happens to people and to societies. That is what I believe has
happened to us in India.
Let me do
a flashback to the time that I was growing up, which was in the 60’s and 70’s.
We (me Muslim) lived in a multi-religious society, as we do now, but with a big
difference. Nobody had TV’s or smart phones (we didn’t even have stupid
phones), so our social life was with our friends. We played football and
cricket; yes, really! I mean in the maidan (open field) near our house. We went
to their homes and they came to ours. We participated in their festivals; not
the religious ceremonies, but the fun and games, eats and sweets. And they did
the same with ours. We knew them and their culture and religion, respected it,
understood their boundaries and adhered to them, took an interest in their
culture and they did the same with ours. We spoke about all this because there
was no football or cricket to speak of
and as far as I can recall, (cricket was a 5-day Test Match – a test of
patience for everyone), politics was a given (Panditji was alive after all) and
so there was hardly any discussion about that. We needed people and they needed
us. So, we appreciated each other.
We lived
in joint families, referred to our elders by our relationship with them or an honorific
in keeping with their age. So, it was Dadaji, Amma, Baba, Mataji, Dadiji,
Chachi, Chacha and so on. Hardly anyone was ‘Uncle’ or ‘Aunty’. There were some
but not too many. It was the job of all elders to discipline us, teach us, tell
us stories, guide us in our religious or cultural norms, customs and practices
and when they were doing that, if any of our friends was around, they would get
the benefit of this teaching, no matter which religion they came from. They
listened with respect and so did we. Our culture was distinct from that of
others, but I don’t remember anyone in my family ever referring to the culture
of others in any even remotely derogatory term. I don’t believe that my family
or elders were unique. They were ordinary people of the time. We learnt our
cultural norms, manners, taboos, customs and practices from our environment and
those around us and since we lived in joint families, there were plenty of
those. It didn’t matter that Dad was away at work, Mom was always home and even
if she went anywhere, one or both grandparents, an uncle or aunt or two were
always around to ensure that we ate, slept, were safe, studied, went out and
played and when it was time, prayed. Mom and Dad didn’t need to do these things
exclusively.
We never
ate out because it was considered uncultured to eat in a restaurant. People
asked you, ‘Don’t you have a home?’ If you took a friend out to a restaurant it
meant that he was not close to you or that you didn’t really respect him.
Otherwise you would have brought him home. It was normal to eat at each other’s
homes, no matter that in some cases the food laws are very different and rigid.
But Brahmins, Marwaris, Kayasth and Reddy friends all ate regularly at our place.
When those we knew to be particular about their food laws were coming, strictly
vegetarian food would be cooked. Those that ate meat at our house did that because
they wished to. Nobody forced of even suggested it to them. Once again, this
was not unique. This was the norm. I recall dropping in at the home of my good
friend from school, Gurcharan Singh. I said, “Sat Sri Akal” to his mother
(Mummy), Dad (Dadji), Grandmother (Mataji) and “Hi” to his sister and brothers
and him. They all said, “Come and eat”, as they were having lunch. His mother
said, with a big smile on her face, “Aaloo paratha bana hai. Tujhe pasand hai
na!” because she knew how much I loved it. As I sat down, Guru’s father pointed
to a covered dish and said, “Usay utthay rakh do.” (Put that there; signing to
the sideboard); meaning, take that dish away from the table. Guru jokingly
said, “Dadji koi problem nahin hai. Yawar yahan kha lega.” His father was
distinctly not amused. He said, “Khana hai tho kahin aur ja kar khaye. Ithey
nahin.” (If he wants to eat, let him go and eat somewhere else. Not here.) What
they were talking about was pork vindaloo. I would not have eaten it anyway,
but for them it was not a joking matter. We respected each other’s traditions
and unless someone volunteered to break his own tradition, it was not broken
for him. Some Muslims went to their Hindu and Christian friends to drink
alcohol, but nobody forced them to do it. If they chose to do it, that was
their choice, just as it was the choice of vegetarian Hindus to eat meat in
their Muslim friend’s homes, if they wished. Needless to say, many Hindus are
not vegetarian and eat meat and fish.
Manners
were a very big thing. You never addressed an elder by name. Or even as Mr.
So-and-so. You either called him Uncle So-and-so or just Uncle. Same thing for
the Aunties. If a boy whistled at a girl, anyone older around would simply
thrash him right then and there. You asked permission, said ‘please’ and ‘thank
you’. The role models you looked up to or who were mentioned to you were people
who were known for their honesty, integrity, hard work, compassion; always for
their values. What people owned was not the subject of discussion firstly
because most people owned similar things, drove similar cars (if they drove a
car at all) and lived in similar houses. The differences were not major and it
was considered crass and highly uncivilized to mention money or the price of
anything. If someone asked you how you were, you replied, “Very well
Uncle/Aunty. Thank you.” You didn’t say, “I’m good”, because that is first of
all, not the right answer because the person was not asking about your moral
condition but your physical well-being and secondly because we thought it was
their job to tell us if we were good or bad. Not ours to announce.
Money was
in short supply though we never wanted for anything. We wore each other’s
handed down clothes. We wore shoes until they became holey. Our clothes were
hand-made to measure because that was the cheapest option. Readymade clothes
were expensive and jeans you only saw in pictures. Pocket money was unheard of.
You got money for the bus fare to school and that was it. Whatever else you
needed had to have a reason behind it, and “I want it” was not a reason. We
lived in bungalows on large plots of land because our parents had inherited
them from their parents. We didn’t go on holidays and looked very enviously at
those very few who went to Ooty for two weeks every summer so that they could
return to Hyderabad’s heat and appreciate it better. But then, at that time you
wore a sweater from November to February and the swimming pool (Public Swimming
Pool in Fateh Maidan – does it even exist anymore – where Jeelani Pairak was
the coach) only opened its doors in the middle of March because it was too cold
to swim before that.
There
were all of four career choices, medicine, engineering (mechanical or civil),
Civil Service or Army. You picked one or if you didn’t, it was thrust upon you
for all kinds of reasons out of your control and then you studied for the
exams. When you got 80% you got presents and gave a party. If you got 90%
people thought that you had cheated. Life was simple, uncomplicated and moved
on at its own pace.
Then came
the 80’s. TV came on the scene with its soaps, serials and news. The world
suddenly opened. Education changed. Multiple disciplines became available to
study leading to hitherto unheard-of career options. The Middle East opened up
for jobs, so did America and Canada. Young people left to make their fortunes.
In some cases, the wives and children remained behind. In most other cases, it
was only the elderly parents who saw off their children at the airport to
return to empty houses and loneliness. All in the name of money. Thanks to
repatriation of funds and the effect of the TV, suddenly money was easy and
material things, appliances, clothes, cars, motorcycles, all became affordable.
Rapidly these became not only nice to have but grounds for competition with
neighbors, friends and strangers. Suddenly we discovered that our neighbor’s
name was Jones and we had to compete with them (Keeping up with the Joneses).
The 80’s
sound like ancient history today in 2019 going on the magic number 2020. What
do we have today? Hatred. We hate each other and that sells, that gets you
elected, that gets you followers, it is chic, it is fashionable, and it works. It
is most preferable to hate Muslims, but anyone else will also do, if there are
no Muslims around. As long as you hate. That is the only thing that counts. So,
our world has shrunk. We meet people like ourselves, who talk like we do, eat what
we eat, like what we like and dislike what we dislike. We hate the same people and
in each other’s rhetoric, we find solace.
We live in our echo chamber and that has become our world. There are those
among us who were born in this echo chamber. They don’t know anything else. But
there are those who were born and lived in a world that was very different from
this one. A world where there were no echo chambers, like there were no mobile
phones, laptops, social media and even television. A world that was real. Today
in our echo chamber, we sometimes ask ourselves this question, “What happened
to that world?” Then we correct ourselves and ask, “What did we do to it?”
It was
1984. The second and last formal employment
of my career was in the tea plantations in the Anamallai Hills in Coimbatore
District of Tamilnadu. I worked there for seven years, one of the most
enjoyable and instructive periods of my life. Fires and estates are companions.
Not surprising given the combination of people who smoke and don’t always
bother to put out their cigarettes, and forests with semi deciduous trees that
regularly carpet the floor with their leaves every summer. A forest fire is
easy to start. One cigarette butt is enough. But if it catches, then it can’t
be put out until there’s nothing left to burn. In the end, all that is left is
ash. We used to take a lot of preventive steps including clearing fire
boundaries where we would clear a wide swathe of ground of all undergrowth and
leaves and keep it swept clean so that even if a fire started it could be
contained. We had also constructed water tanks and dammed streams to create
small reservoirs, which would be useful if we needed water in a hurry to put
out a fire. These reservoirs were also very useful as watering holes for
wildlife in the summer and a source of endless delight for me to watch animals
as they came down to drink.
One day late in the afternoon someone came running
to the office (days without mobile phones or walky-talky radios) and said that
a fire had started in the Murugalli coffee area. In the plantations, emergencies
were everyone’s affair. News would go to all those who could be informed, and
they all rushed to the aid of the estate which had the problem. All who could
go would go, regardless of whose estate it was.
As soon as the runner caught his breath, I put him
on the back of my motorcycle to guide me and we were off. When I reached the
place, I realized that this was a fairly large forest fire. There were about
thirty of our workers and two supervisors who had been working in the area. I
marshaled them all and got them to clear a belt and start a counter fire. The
idea was to burn an area across the direction of the fire and clear it of all
inflammable material so that when the main fire reached this place it would
simply starve to death. We started the counter fires and once the dry stuff was
burnt, we beat out the flames with green leafy branches that we had previously
cut and kept at hand. The main fire was moving very fast as it was being pushed
by a tail wind. As it came up to us it was our task to ensure that it did not
jump the cleared boundary. Every time a flame jumped the fire boundary, we beat
it to death. There was no water available where we were, otherwise, we would
have also wet as much area as possible as a preventive measure. The story didn’t
end here but for this article, this is enough.
The whole logic of fighting forest fires is about
preventing them from starting. And if they do start, then trying to prevent
them from growing. If this is not done, then once a fire grows beyond a certain
size, nothing can put it out until everything that can burn has been burnt. The
fire will die only when everyone and everything is dead. And all that is left
is ash.
Today, as I reflect on global politics as well as
its local reflection in my country, I am reminded of forest fires and my own
experience of fighting one in the Anamallais. It appears that none of the
leaders either on the global stage or the even more critical local ones, has
ever seen or fought a forest fire. That is why they so blithely ignite and
stoke the fires of hatred. Racial hatred, communal hatred and religious hatred.
They know not what they do but regardless, we, every single one of us, will
burn if we allow this to go on unchallenged and unanswered. Fire can’t be
fought with fire. It must be fought with something that is cool and which is not
inflammable. So also, hatred can’t be fought with hatred, but with love. Loving
someone who hates you is not easy. It seems impossible. But the alternative is
to burn in the same fire.
In human relations terms, ignorance is
combustible. It is the substance that is used to ignite the fire of hatred and
to stoke it by demonizing the object of hate. The real purpose is to sow
discord and terror, so that we are all reduced to the same level, joined only
in our fear of one another rooted in ignorance. Then we become malleable and
controllable through fear. This is done by first focusing on the differences in
our diversity and then teaching us that these differences are things to hate. In
a society like ours which is based on caste differences that discriminate
against other people based on their ethnicity (race), to get people to hate
someone for something as ridiculous as what they eat, drink, wear or worship is
very easy. We already live in a society where we are taught that some of us are
superior to others for no fault of ours or theirs. It is just that we were born
into this or that caste and so that not only makes us superior, but it means
that we get to look down on others and consider them to be dirty, sub-human,
unworthy of associating with and to always be treated with contempt. Since this
entire edifice is built on an accident of birth, it means that it is permanent
and there is nothing that anyone can do to change that. That leads to the
logical progression of despising and hating the person and the entire group
that he/she belongs to, because that makes me feel superior and good, once
again free of cost.
To
continue to feel good, all I need to do is to perpetuate this lie from generation
to generation and ensure that the hatred and contempt stays alive. For this
there are some requirements; deny anything good that the target population may
have done, no matter how clear and substantial the evidence. Mock and disparage
their identity, beliefs, culture and customs and demonize them by interpreting
them in negative ways. Re-write history in a way that removes all evidence of
their contribution to the nation and world and replace that with cherry-picked or
manufactured stories of their ‘sins’. Pick a time period that is ancient enough
to ensure that nobody from the time is alive to defend themselves and do all
this so aggressively that those who are alive today, are intimidated enough to
remain silent and watch their heritage being trashed. The idea is to eventually
have a situation where even the memory of the contributions of those people is
lost and all sense of self-esteem is taken from them. It is an age-old tactic,
the only thing remarkable about which is that it still works.
Once
again, what is the solution? For a solution we must find and implement if we
are not all to be consumed in the forest fire that we lighted or allowed to be
lighted while we watched. The first part of the solution is to reject every
ideology that teaches that you are either superior or inferior because of the
accident of birth. All such ideologies of being the ‘chosen of god’, are an
insult to humanity and God. All such ideologies are false, dangerous and
destructive and must be trashed. For the record as far as my own religion, Islam
is concerned, let me quote from the sermon of the Prophet Muhammad(S) during
his last Hajj where he said, “All mankind is from Adam and Eve, an Arab has
no superiority over a non-Arab nor does a non-Arab have any superiority over an
Arab. A white (person) has no superiority over a black, nor does a black
(person) have any superiority over a white; except by piety and good action.” Now that is clear enough and needs no
elaboration. We are all equal in our humanity and the only measure of goodness
is the goodness we spread around us.
The second
part of the solution is to give names and faces to the labels that we are
confronted with. Labels seeking to create the ‘Other’ in our minds. Labels that
if we don’t question and see them for what they are, make it possible for us to
reject others. Labels are distant, disembodied and impersonal. That makes it
possible to hate those to whom they apply. Names are known and personal; faces
are recognizable. They make us stop to consider what we think, say or do about
those people. Let me illustrate with my own example, how a name changes the
complexion of a label.
I am Muslim.
But when I hear the label ‘Agnostic/Atheist’, I see Aunty Mohini and Uncle
Rama’s faces. The two people who were my mentors in childhood and youth and
role models, lifelong. They enabled me to discover myself and opened my heart
and mind to appreciate others. When I hear the label Sikh, I see the faces of
Gurcharan, Gurveen Kaur, Anup and Sandy. When I hear the label Hindu, I see the
faces of AMM Arunachalam, Renuka & Aditya Mishra, Purba & Sanjoy Sanyal,
Nikoo Rawlley, Arun Menon and Gudducha (Jaikant Chaturvedi). When I hear the label
Christian, I see the faces of Berty & Jenny Suares, Thambi Kurien, Ranjan
Solomon, Norman & Lorraine Wood. When I hear the label Buddhist, I see the
faces of Rose, Ivo and Alvito Baretto. When I hear the label Jew, I see the
faces of Kathy, Dennis Goodman, David and Jeffrey Solomon. When I hear the
label Christian Missionary, I see the faces of David and Miriam Ramse and
Thurston Riehl. When I hear the label Parsi, I see the faces of Jehangir
Ghadiali, Naushi and Mehru Tarapore. When I think of communal riots, I think of
Uncle Raman Kumar who came with a police escort through the curfew to give us
food grains. I think of Norman Lindie in Guyana who shielded me with his own
body from a man who had come to attack me with a knife. I think of Peter
Ramsingh, who was my constant companion in our innumerable camping trips through
the rain forests, up and down the Berbice River. These are by no means the only
people I know under these ‘categories’. There are many, many more. This is only
to make my point that when you have a face to a label, it becomes personal. With
each of them, I have many pleasant memories associated. Of happy times, helping
one another, just being with one another and enjoying each other’s company and
difference. So, deal with people, not labels.
The benefit
of becoming personal is that I have a frame of reference when I hear or read something
hateful about the ‘category’ which in my mind and life experience is
represented by a name and face of a friend. I find it impossible to hate
anyone, but even if this were not the case, I would have cause to stop and reflect,
if I have a frame of reference against which to compare what I am being asked
to believe. Without that and given the unique human tendency to believe the negative
more easily than the positive, rumor becomes real and the lie becomes the
truth. Today the problem is that thanks to our highly urbanized and apparently
self-sufficient (but really isolationist) way of life, we manage to live in the
same apartment building for decades without even knowing the name of our neighbor,
let alone anything more. Our civic spaces are disappearing. Hence civilized interaction and dialogue. Even
schools are ‘segregated’. Not officially but children don’t seem to have
friends, except among their own kind. Racist language is rampant and normal.
Discrimination seems to be the order of the day. Even the question of a child going
to the home of a friend, not from his/her religion or ethnicity, to spend an overnight
or weekend with their family, doesn’t arise. Our conversation mentions other people,
their religion and culture, but always in disparaging words. Never with respect
and appreciation. Our world view has become totally color blind – black and
white. We don’t even see the racist overtone in the term, Black & White. We
have lost our frame of reference. We are blind, waiting to be led down the road
of someone else’s choosing.
This must
change. This is the fire-break that we must build. The essential fire
prevention strategy if we want to protect ourselves from annihilation. We must
open our eyes and ears, homes and hearts, to others. We must stop ‘Othering’ each
other. We must learn to observe with respect and without being judgmental. We
must learn to appreciate difference and not reduce all difference to good (like
me) and bad (different from me). It is variety that adds color to the scenery.
Variety is another name for difference. We must consciously examine the
assumptions that we have become used to and treat as ‘The Truth’. We must face
the fact that they are baseless assumptions, rooted in bigotry. As Reza Aslan put
it very aptly, ‘Religion doesn’t make people bigots. People are bigots and
they use religion to justify their ideology.’ The question each one of us
needs to ask is, ‘Am I a bigot?’ I can imagine that in today’s world, the answer
may well be, ‘Yes’, in all cases with a difference only in degree. As a starting
point, I would say that it is enough to ask this question and then ask another
one, even more painful. ‘Am I willing to do anything to change this?’ That is
when we can start thinking of what we must do.
So, what
must we do?
Monitor
conversations. At home, in the workplace, especially in our schools and in
public. It is ‘domestic legends’ which shape our worldview from a very early
age. We need to reflect on how we were conditioned and become conscious of how
we are conditioning our children. Most conditioning is unconscious and extremely
powerful and very difficult to undo, unless we make a serious effort. Monitoring
conversations will give us diagnostic evidence of the degree of change we need
to make. It is important to do this objectively with a no-praise-no-blame
mindset. The idea is to see how serious the terminal disease which afflicts us is
and see what we need to do, to cure it. For terminal it is. Hatred is fire. All
fires burn and the result is always ash.
Then we
need to create civic spaces to meet in and practice being civilized. We need to
develop the skills to speak about each other, our beliefs, culture, customs and
traditions with respect. We must visit each other, participate in each other’s
lives and do it with respect and without being judgmental. We must ask
questions, respectfully and strongly oppose all mockery of people different
from us, even if and especially when it is done in the name of ‘humor’.
Laughing at someone is not humorous. Reject outright anyone who preaches hatred
or mocks others; whether that is your priest or preacher, teacher or political
leader, uncle or mother. We need to become open-minded enough to try to
understand the reason why other people do things differently from us and not
only accept that but appreciate it as another way of life which has an equal right
to exist. We must deal with the fear that if we do this, we will need to ‘convert’
to their way. We won’t. What will happen though is that our minds and hearts will
expand, which is a very good thing for all minds and hearts. Even ours. We will
become more understanding, accepting, respectful and impervious to manipulation
by those who wish to fill our hearts with hatred for others, so that we become
tools in their hands to achieve their own ends.
It was a
very hot day in May, 1991. Very dry, at the peak of summer with the monsoon
another month away. I was driving through Thirunelveli District on my way back
from Madurai where I had gone to attend a Labour Court hearing. These were the
days before car air-conditioning in India, so the car was a moving oven.
Suddenly the moving oven stopped moving. A tyre was punctured. My driver
Santiago pulled over to the side. I got out of the car as it was simply too hot
to sit inside. Santiago didn’t need any help, he said, so I looked around. I
saw that we had stopped by some fields which in the monsoon would be planted
with rice, but which at this time were simply baked, dry clay fractured into
pieces according to whatever natural law was at work. There was not a blade of
grass or anything green in sight. Except that is, for two small Neem trees,
which had been planted by the roadside. Beside the trees, with its back to them
and facing the field was a mud hut. It must have been about twenty feet long
and had a grass thatch roof. Between the trees, which were at either end of the
hut, the ground had been swept clean and sprinkled with sand. Under each tree,
in the scant shade was a stone bench. It was really a stone fence post laid
flat on two short raisers about two feet in height. I was intrigued to say the
least about how this whole thing was obviously planned and prepared. Who would
bother to make this seating arrangement and why?
I sat on
one of the benches to see what would happen. In a little while a young boy came
out of the hut with a brass water pot and a steel tumbler and poured me a
tumbler full of tepid water. I had many thoughts about the origin of the water
and its hygiene but didn’t want to interfere with whatever was at work here. So,
I accepted the water and drank it. The boy went to Santiago and poured some water
for him also. Then he set the pot down and sat with Santiago to provide him
with moral support in changing the tyre of the car. A couple of minutes later,
his mother called him. He took his pot and departed, only to emerge with two
glass tumblers of tea. His mother came out as he finished giving the tea to me
and Santiago, with a plate of Murku – the twisted savory snack that is very
popular all over Tamilnadu and South India. I thanked her and took one, thinking
all the time that the mystery had been solved. We had been fortunate enough to
break down near a tea-shop and so we were now being served.
We
finished our tea and the tyre was changed. I got up and asked the boy how much
money I owed them for the tea and snack. He looked at me in surprise and said, ‘Onnum
illayingay.’ (Nothing, Sir.) He used the respectful form of address which given
the difference in our ages, our mutual social positions and the culture of Thirunelveli
was natural. I thanked him but told him to ask his mother. He went into the hut
and the lady came out, her head covered with the tail of her sari (pallu) and said,
‘This is not a shop Sir. Your car broke down, so I thought that maybe you would
like a cup of tea and made it for you. That is all. There is nothing to pay.
You are our guest.’ I didn’t know what to say. There was nothing in my
experience to handle this, except unless I went back almost 30 years earlier to
my time with Gond tribals in Adilabad, where I also encountered such generosity
of spirit from people who had nothing. In this case, it was Diwali next day. So,
I took out Rs. 100 and folded the note and put it in the pocket of the youngster
and said, ‘This is for Diwali sweets for you.’ His mother tried to object but I
said to her, ‘I am like his elder brother. Please allow me to give him a gift
for Diwali.’ She smiled and nodded. And we left. This happened in 1991. This is
2019. The memory is alive.
Our education
and sophistication seem to build walls and teach us to despise one another. These
people were among the poorest in the world, deprived, discriminated against, so-called
lower caste. Yet their hearts were full of compassion, generosity and
abundance. What is the secret? It is to see another human being as a human
being. Shorn of our titles and labels. Just another human being. This is what
we need to learn and teach. This is the secret of putting out fires and of
survival. This is our lifeline.
My mind is numb, my heart
is heavy, the tears have dried,
Yet the day dawns and life
must be lived,
Unanswered, unanswerable
questions,
Actions, reactions, a vicious
cycle that must be broken.
As I sit down to write this, my biggest struggle is with myself, ‘Should I write this or not? What use is it? Surely the next planner or executor of the next atrocity is hardly going to ask – Let me see what Yawar Baig has to say before I do this. So why write?’ It is easier to simply do nothing. Withdraw into my shell and hope that one day what happened in Sri Lanka yesterday, doesn’t happen to my own loved ones. How then did I break out of this stupor of grief? By reminding myself of one thing: Those who were killed in Sri Lanka were my dear ones, because anyone who is killed because of his/her religion, race or nationality is my dear one. So, I will speak. I will raise my voice. And I will do it, even if I am alone. Especially if I am alone.
In
my view the real purpose behind these actions is not the elimination of any
population. That in today’s world is literally impossible. The real purpose is
to sow discord and hatred, so that we are all reduced to the same level as the
perpetrators of these crimes. Then we become malleable and controllable and are
controlled through fear. Fear of our own neighbors, brothers and sisters, fear
of our own family members in the global family of humans. This is done by first
focusing on the differences in our diversity and then teaching us that these differences
are things to hate. That leads to the logical conclusion of hating the person
and the entire group that he/she belongs to. It is an age-old tactic, the only
thing remarkable about which is that it still works. This is what was used against
the Jewish people for centuries in Europe and Russia which led to their ghettoizing
and eventually to Hitler’s infamous Final Solution, which educated, moral and
(presumably) kind people, watched in silence. Today Muslims seem to be in that
boat. It is salutary to note that Hitler’s gas chambers were built by highly
educated engineers and scientists. So, for those who think that large scale
violence amounting to genocide is something that is left to Attila the Hun, it
may be shocking to see that education as we know it is not the solution to our
problem. Because our problems are moral and ethical. Problems of our humanity.
Not problems of not knowing enough math and science. There are lessons in history
and one of the most powerful ones lies in the Jewish Holocaust. It is essential
to learn the lessons because nations that don’t learn from history are
condemned to repeat it.
As
I mentioned earlier, the main purpose of hate attacks is to cause chaos and
disruption of society and turn one person against another. This creates a smoke
screen which hides real issues. When people are immersed in grief and anger and
are looking to hit back, they are not thinking clearly and all they need is a
target. That is provided by implying that anyone from the community, religion,
ethnicity, race or nationality of the criminal is like him and so can be made a
victim in ‘retaliation’. That allows people to vent their anger on innocent people,
creates an atmosphere of terror and buys time for those who want in reality to
draw the curtains over their own faults and deficiencies i.e. the failure of
leadership to solve people’s real problems of hunger, unemployment, lack of access
to public health and education, lack of clean drinking water and housing. The
issues vary from nation to nation, but it is always a mix of these. Don’t solve
real problems, divert people’s attention to hating others, allow them to vent
their anger on those who are helpless, and you buy some more time. Those who should
really be held to account, voted out, removed from leadership and made to pay,
are let off free to plan the next episode in this macabre horror drama called ‘Life
in the Modern World’.
But
all this will happen, only if we allow it to happen. That is the key and the
reason we must ask ourselves, “Do I want this cycle to continue?”
Given
that this is a no-brainer, what is the solution? Let me tell you about a unique
experience I had just two days ago, on Saturday, April 20, 2019. I was invited
to a Passover Seder dinner by some very dear Jewish friends. This was the first
time that I was going to a Passover Seder and so I was very interested in what I
would see and experience. To accommodate my inability to participate in a meal
during which wine would be served, in a completely unprecedented and totally gracious
gesture (very pleasant surprise for me), this family made the meal completely alcohol
free and drank pomegranate juice instead of wine. This they did despite the fact
that drinking four cups of wine is a part of the Passover Seder ritual. What
amazed me even more was that the Rabbi who led the proceedings, also accepted
this accommodation. Truly a most gracious gesture which left me feeling so very
valued and appreciated.
The
Passover Seder is about the Exodus of the Jews from Egypt, which is a story
that as a Muslim, I grew up with. The story of Musa (Moses) and how he liberated
the Jews from the slavery of Pharaoh, is familiar to every Muslim child. It is one
of the major stories in the Qur’an as Musa (Moses) is one of the major prophets
of Islam, believing in whom is a part of our creed. But what was new to me was
the whole Seder meal and what is read during it. The overall theme of the readings
was thankfulness. Thankfulness for all the bounties of God that He gave the Jews
and of course all of us. What struck me the most was the song of fifteen
stanzas each line of which ends with the word, Dayenu (meaning ‘it would have
been enough’), but He gave more. This struck me because this is precisely the
Muslim understanding of God (Allahﷻ)
and His Grace, Mercy and Generosity, that He gives without counting. The overall
and overwhelming sense that I came away with that night was that of belonging,
not of difference. Strange thing perhaps to hear from a Muslim talking about a Jewish
household and ceremony in today’s times. But that is how I felt, the warm glow
of which remains with me.
Why
is this important and why am I mentioning this here?
It
is because in this lies the seed of the solution to hatred. Hatred comes from
not knowing about each other, which leads to the situation among most people of
being able to believe the worst about them. This is the way stereotypes are
formed and strengthened until they become ‘THE TRUTH’, to be believed unquestioningly.
On the other hand, when we take the time to learn about each other, we are often
faced with some startling facts, which lead us to question our blind beliefs and
stereotypes and hopefully allow us to change our stances. I recall my childhood
where I grew up among Marwari Hindus as neighbors and went initially to a
Christian (Anglican) Missionary school and began my day singing the Lord’s Prayer
in the Chapel. I come from a family of practicing Muslims and so my own
religion was always familiar. As a result of this eclectic upbringing, I didn’t
convert to either Christianity or Hinduism but grew up learning a lot about
both religions and communities, by living with them. We lived in each other’s
homes, ate together (keeping to our own food laws strictly), celebrated each other’s
festivals and didn’t feel that our own religion was threatened by this mutual
understanding. I have written about this in detail in my book, ‘It’s my Life’ and so won’t repeat it here. Please read the book. You’ll enjoy it.
I
am speaking of this here because the one big thing that happened thanks to this
upbringing is that today, when someone tries to tell me about how bad and vicious
Hinduism or Christianity are, I have the frame of reference of both from my own
life experience against which to check what I am hearing. I reject these messages
because I didn’t experience these religions or those who follow them, in that
way at all. Ditto Judaism, from my experience which I described above. Therefore,
the first and most important thing to do is to ensure that we get to know one
another, personally, experientially and closely.
I
am therefore able to distinguish and differentiate between the action of someone
who professes to belong to a particular religion but does things that are
prohibited in that religion. That, in my opinion, places that individual, outside
his religion. He is not a representative of his religion and his actions are the
result of his rejecting his religion, not of practicing it. So, I reject that individual
and his actions, not his religion. In my view, in the case of those who are
responsible for the mass murder in Sri Lanka that happened on Easter Sunday, April
21, 2019; those people are criminals and must be treated as such. They must be caught
and punished to the full extent of the law. On no account must we accept their
professed logic of representing this or that religion and on that account buy
into the negative, toxic philosophy of hating that religion or its adherents,
who are our neighbors and family. We must do this because we must defeat this
hate-filled thinking that is sought to be imposed on us. We can only do this if
we reject it. Not if we buy into it.
If not me, then who? If not now, then when?
I am reminded of a story I heard in 1997, about
the man who used to stand before the White House every night holding a candle,
in his struggle to have the UN sanctions against Iraq, lifted. One night, it
was cold and wet and windy. But the man was there in his place, holding an
umbrella and trying to protect his candle from the rain.
The guard
at the gate, who used to see him every day, came out to him and said, “Tell me
why do you do this? Do you really think you can change them?”
The man
replied, “I don’t do this to change them. I do it so that they won’t be able to
change me.”
It is very
important that we speak out. The time for silence is over. The time for action
is here.
