A PAIR of senior Israeli ministers recently argued that Jewish settlers who carried out gratuitous attacks on Palestinians should be classified as terrorists. The celebrated author Amos Oz went further, describing them as neo-Nazis.
In eastern Ukraine, it is not uncommon for the interim authorities in Kiev to be viewed as fascistic, while the latter routinely classify pro-Russian forces as terrorists. It could be argued that they are both at least partially mistaken — although it’s clearly a grievous mistake on the West’s part to gloss over the far-right influence in the Ukrainian capital.
At the same time, there can be little doubt that Vladimir Putin’s nationalistic tendencies have steadily served as a dose of Viagra for the most regressive elements in post-Soviet Russia.
It’s hardly an isolated phenomenon, though. The ascendancy of right-wing extremists is a narrative that extends, in varying degrees, across much of Europe. And beyond.
Asia is certainly no stranger to the authoritarian capitalist model, and it is widely feared that its Indian manifestation following a six-week electoral process in which about 13 percent of humanity cast a vote, will be associated with a religiously focused nationalist streak with at least occasional fascistic overtones.
Monday’s exit polls appeared to confirm earlier prognostications about a sweep by the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), although almost every report was at pains to point out that previous predictions on this basis, in both 2004 and 2009, were way off the mark.
Ten years ago, the BJP’s “India Shining” slogan faced rejection at the ballot box, partly because it sought to ignore all the evidence of tarnish clearly visible to a majority of voters. This time a key factor in the party’s resurgence has been the promise of economic luster: A replication of the supposedly exemplary development model in Gujarat, whose long-serving chief minister Narendra Modi is all but certain to take over as prime minister from Manmohan Singh.
A number of analysts have suggested that should the BJP-led National Democratic Alliance (NDA) fail to acquire a clear majority of seats in the Lok Sabha and thereby be compelled to seek alliances with smaller parties, there is a possibility it could be persuaded to ditch Modi and pick a less divisive prime ministerial candidate.
That, however, comes across as wishful thinking in the wake of a presidential-style campaign in which Modi’s personal standing was paramount. Besides, let’s not forget that roughly one-third of the popular vote would suffice for an NDA majority. It may seem like a travesty, but in common with so many other countries that rely on the first-past-the-post system, a convincing popular mandate in the world’s largest democracy does not require more than 50 percent of the popular vote.
That’s not an indictment of the BJP, mind you — even in the first Lok Sabha election, which stretched from October 1951 to February 1952, the Indian National Congress under Jawaharlal Nehru won an overwhelming majority of seats on the basis of 45 percent of the popular vote.
His heirs — in terms of bloodline as much as party affiliation — have never fared better than that, and his great-grandson is certain to do considerably worse. India’s disenchantment with the Congress is perfectly understandable, even though the obvious alternative is so much worse.
As Perry Anderson pointed out in The Indian Ideology last year, “The dynasty that still rules the country, its name as fake as the knock-off of a prestige brand, is the negation of any self-respecting republic. The party over which it presides has lost any raison d’etre beyond clinging to its bloodline — now desperately pinning its hopes, after the flop of Nehru’s weakling great-grandson, on his hard-bitten sister, if only she would hurry up and divorce her too obviously shady tycoon-husband.
“Congress had its place in the national liberation struggle. [Mahatma] Gandhi, who had made it the mass force it became, called at independence for its dissolution. He was right. Since then the party has ben a steadily increasing calamity for the country. Its exit from the scene would be the best single gift Indian democracy could give itself.”
Not surprisingly, Modi’s campaign focused mainly on his supposed economic credentials rather than the allegiance to Hindu nationalism that he has never denied. And it is likely that many of those who voted for him did so in the hope of economic enhancement rather than as an endorsement of his despicable nonchalance toward the anti-Muslim pogroms that blighted Gujarat under his auspices in 2002.
Since the age of 10, Modi has been a votary of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), one of the least palatable manifestations of Hindu extremism. And there have been plenty of indications that the Sangh Parivar — the umbrella for religious fanaticism — will be inclined to wrestle itself free of the secularist restraints that have hitherto usually held it back once he is ensconced as prime minister.
It is alarming, albeit not entirely surprising, that the Sangh Parivar’s “Hinduism in danger” slogan echoes the theme of pre-partition Muslim separatism. The advent of Modi may well align India with Pakistan in terms of ideological inclination while relegating even further the prospect of fraternal coexistence.
Whether India’s justly lauded multifariousness will militate against the risk to its secularist identity posed by Modi’s most vociferous acolytes remains to be seen. Likewise the inevitable tendency toward neoliberalism of the crony capitalist variety. There’s no getting away from the fact, though, that a Modi-fied India could pose a challenge whose dimensions extend well beyond South Asia.
