Author: Madhuri Santanam Sondhi
Publication: Deccan Chronicle
Date: June 22, 2006
Introduction: Freedom of conscience and freedom
to propagate do not exhaust all the nuances of religious rights and tolerance.
We need an ethics of diversity and pluralism.
All right-thinking people subscribe to the
doctrine of freedom of conscience: a person should be free to change, adopt,
enlarge or abandon any belief according to his or her conscience, and this
freedom is enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR).
But thanks to deep differences of belief and custom between the various faiths
lumped together under the English term "religion," the historical
conflict between converting and non-converting faiths persists. In the modern
world, in which the great debates about religion and ideology seem a thing
of the past, if questions are raised about the subtle or not so subtle ruses
whereby conversions are effected, they rouse little indignation. What if the
poor are enticed not by truths but by promises of this-worldly comforts: when
even the rich and powerful sell their souls for filthy lucre or power, why
should the poor be barred from doing the same? The core values are economic:
rich or poor and not moral like right or wrong, or metaphysical, true or false,
or cultural, authentic or mimetic. Even Swami Vivekananda remarked that one
cannot preach religion (the higher dharma) to people with empty stomachs,
i.e., first establish the human security which enables genuine free choice.
Combining community religion with food, healthcare and education is another
ballgame. In 1977 the Supreme Court upheld the constitution of conversion-prohibiting
laws enacted by Madhya Pradesh and Orissa, clarifying that "organised
conversion, whether by force or fraud, or by providing allurement to people
taking advantage of their poverty and ignorance is anti-secular." The
Court further said that respect for all religions was the basis of Indian
secularism, whereas conversion was grounded in religious intolerance. And
the Indian Constitution quite specifically frowns on conversions which disturb
the peace.
Recently a contretemps arose in Rajasthan
between the BJP government, the Congress governor and Pope Benedict XVI on
the occasion of the introduction of a Bill barring conversions (which already
obtains, at least notionally, in five states). The Pope, breaking the decorum
of a credentials presentation ceremony, chastised India (read Hindus) through
its envoy, for lack of religious tolerance. Virtually, Hindus were commanded
in the name of freedom, to submit to proselytisation. Since conversion is
an integral function of the Christian clergy, it is perhaps claimed as a religious
right. But for the targeted community it could be provocative.
How to reconcile proselytisation and tolerance?
These are problematic as group and not individual rights. Tolerance is an
essentially contested concept, linked to a particular religious point of view,
and the alleged universality of the UDHR at least in this area is controversial.
The Latin religio suggests being bound or obligated: certainly Abrahamic religions
have strong community bonding, and Islam in particular, fierce punishments
for apostasy. Dharma covers, apart from religious particularisms, relationships
within and between social groups, moral and customary duties: in the past
there were severe punishments for breaking caste taboos (under reform Hinduism
and the Indian secular state, these are to some extent in retreat). But there
was acceptance of diverse ways of life and belief, and this plural co-existence
is what constitutes India's (not only Hindu) tolerance. Vivekananda gave it
a modern gloss through describing different faiths as rivers emptying into
the same sea. It has been said that early Christianity and Islam functioned
almost as varnas in the Indian social system after their initial proselytising
advent: thereafter they played almost according to Indian social rules. But
aggressive proselytising in the 19th and 20th centuries upset the old balances,
causing concern to nationalists seeking a cultural definition of India. A
new straw in the wind apparently quivered in the aftermath of a recent interfaith
meeting jointly organised by the Vatican and the World Council of Churches
whose resolutions stressed, among other things, the need for all faiths to
heal themselves from the obsession of converting others. However this occurred
in the same week as the Pope's bombshell, undermining the credibility of the
message.
Under attack, the non-converting faiths have
partly awoken to the need for self-protection. Since the defensive techniques
are foreign to their basic structure, they generate much criticism, especially
from their own adherents. The Hindus evolved shuddhi in the last century,
reconverting converted Hindus or tribals, and defensive (sometimes veering
on the destructively offensive) organisations to rally their members across
castes and
sects. The energy of a missionary faith may
be deplored but not condemned, whereas counter measures arouse righteous indignation.
The Khasis in Meghalaya faced a comparable
crisis when the British conquered northeastern India in the 19th century,
encouraging missionary activity to help pacify the areas. Their Niam Khasi
religion had no recorded beliefs, no centrally administered social organisation,
but there was a coherent fabric of interwoven socio-cultural practices and
beliefs. By 1899, certain Khasi leaders made an effort to both organise themselves
and encode their values in writing to resist the onslaught of the well-funded,
well-organised government patronised missions. The result was the Seng Khasi
movement, protective, revivalist and reversionist. It has won recognition
as a distinct religion from the International Association for Religious Freedom.
As structured today the Niam Khasi has an Indic character with belief in one
God, U Blei, common to and in communication with, all of humanity. It retains
its particular cosmic and nature deities, and magical elements perdure as
in Tibetan Buddhism. The Oneness and universal accessibility of God obviate
the need for conversions, but reverting Khasis are welcome.
Post-Independence conversions continued, with
the plethora of Protestant churches finally upstaged by the Roman Catholic,
today even more gung-ho under the new Pope. The traditional Khasis feel culturally
threatened, lacking the means to match the excellent Christian educational
and healthcare institutions with their employment potential. If earlier a
convert had to abandon traditional customs, nowadays Christians more pragmatically
seek to blend into local cultures. Gandhi had remarked that the advent of
a missionary means the disruption of a family, and even when outward conditions
of dress, manners, language and drink are unaffected, "vilification of
the Hindu religion, though subdued, remains." Hindu families may squabble
like any other, but religio-cultural fissures cut at the heart of the Indian
group society engendering great anguish. It is anybody's guess as to who will
be the ultimate winner, the foreign religion or local culture, or whether
India will pull another syncretic rabbit out of its proverbial hat. Today
with Central government ineptitude over northeastern problems combined with
regional near-sightedness, there is much local talk of being "different
from India." The Chinese have always encouraged this sense of difference
along the Himalayan border.
Freedom of conscience and freedom to propagate
do not exhaust all the nuances of religious rights and tolerance. We need
an ethics of diversity and pluralism. Human rights discourse could consider
new formulations for accommodating the needs, expectations and practices of
a wide spectrum of faiths to move towards the more truly "universal."
Human rights form the essential foundations of our own society and Constitution,
but we might like to modify certain clauses so that all groups, big and small,
can be confidently assured of their religious freedoms.
