By Om Prakash Dwivedi
On April 22, we received new war imagery from India’s conflict-ridden state of Jammu & Kashmir. This time, the site of violence is Pahalgam district. As Firstpost.com reports, “At least 26 are dead in south Kashmir’s Pahalgam and several have been injured in a terror attack in South Kashmir’s Pahalgam. An outfit linked to the Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT) known as The Resistance Front (TRF) has taken responsibility for the attack.” These terror-driven images raise many questions for each one of us, including the government. Victims bleeding out, bodies lying dead, mothers and wives pleading for their loved ones to be spared—if these images cannot send shivers down our spines, then what else can?
What does it feel like to look at images of irrevocable loss for the concerned family members? What glory, what necessity, what pride can be achieved through the killings of innocent people? One can also evoke Virginia Woolf’s powerful question: “whether when we look at the same photographs we feel the same things”? In response, Susan Sontag writes, “the photographs supply no evidence, none at all, for renouncing war—except to those for whom the notions of valour and of sacrifice have been emptied of meaning and credibility.” The grandiose fantasy of self and religion is wired in a way that can no longer see human beings as humans—and this applies even to people from one’s own religion if the person defies or dares to see the unison of humanity.
There is a strong possibility that the media will try to hide the actual numbers of those killed and injured. But the “anxiety of numbers,” to quote Arjun Appadurai, is by no means a reason to ignore or let the merciless and cowardly terror agents go unpunished. One should not make the tacit assumption that innocent people from any religion can be exterminated. Where does one get the courage to defend these terror acts? For me, the moot question at this critical juncture remains: Do we need stout defenders of terrorism or critical interpreters of nationalism? The latter must perform their tasks if these radical ideologists are to be shown their rightful place. The very idea of terrorism is literally abnormal and murderous, even if it does not immediately lead to killings. If religion assumes the form of a balance sheet of life and death, one can be assured of witnessing more death zones. Are we going to compare death numbers—appeasing particular groups in the process—or should we act together to demolish the devil of terrorism itself?
Perhaps I am asking too many questions. Perhaps these questions should not be asked. Perhaps the quest for the right questions—those that matter most for the collective survival of humanity—has always been blurred by the fanatical avowal of sectarian and communal commitments. Perhaps Hindus can be killed because they are the majority—who, after all, speaks about the killings and losses of the majority? Of course, the same can be said about Muslims in their countries. Is it the law of statistics or an aversion to particular groups that sanctions and justifies the critique of terrorism and violence? Sadly, such demonstrations of apathy and moral perversion towards communities have been consistent, exposing the intellectual diminution and self-serving distinctions of our times. Divided by our ideological moorings, we fail to see the need for a critical adherence to the project of humanity—without which no order can be established.
In any nation, we may have differences of opinion and majority and minority groups, but can we act together to exercise our commitment to the common humanity that we all belong to? That is why the condemnation of violence and terrorism should not be limited to the killing of specific groups or to distorted global narratives, which—under the pretence of promoting solidarity and progress—only lead us to moral defeatism. It is clear why some groups and lives are mourned by global tabloids such as The New York Times or The Guardian, while the killings and extermination of others are pushed into oblivion. This is exactly why terrorism must be abandoned and demolished, so that the project of humanity can be revived. The supporters and perpetrators of terrorism have no place here. Instead of repeating the radical idea of one’s own glory and inherent victimhood, we need to listen to the Other and assume the position of the Other. We must protect the very gift of life, and we must never forget that life is co-constituted—dependent, as it is, on other beings.
As the famous Indian novelist, Tabish Khair, avers: “Death comes, it always will, what needs to be celebrated is life.” Our voices and acts must be to protect all communities from terror and violence, not selective ones.
Contributing Author: Prof. Om Prakash Dwivedi is a literary critic and columnist.
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