Dear Government, Questioning Organised Religion Is Important

Here’s a reminder of why questioning and dissent are important in colleges and universities.

It wasn’t until a professor posted on our college WhatsApp group that I came to know about a journalism professor’s arrest in Mysore. His fault? He criticised Ram’s role in Ramayana, saying that he was unfair to Sita and victimised her.

The flurry of texts that followed on the group were meant to be funny, sarcastic, but they had a deeply disturbing subtext. Immediately after, my professor in a rather self-conscious manner posted – “I wonder what would happen to me if all these fringe groups heard what I teach you people in class.”

The question was rhetorical, nobody chose to answer the obvious elephant in the room.

I do not sit at a satsang, clapping my hands as bhajans are played. I do not get moved, or gets goosebumps every time I hear the morning azaan or aarti. And I, definitely, do not feel the need to respect state-sponsored religious symbols, because by virtue of being a Hindu, I’m expected to.

Does that brand me anti-religion, or worse, anti-Hindu? Does that take away from me, my right to question rigid institutions?

Apart from all the other life lessons, the one most integral thing that college taught me is to question – to criticise systematic organisation of religion, to question ideologies that might have been normalised over decades of belief, to question the status quo, to dissent, not conform.

Yes, it sounds like a lot of silly jargon that a so-called liberal elite fresh out of college uses. But in an atmosphere of conservatism, conformism and capital, maybe it’s a start. And a reminder that a culture of questioning is integral to colleges and universities.

The critique of religion becoming a pedagogical tool in universities is not only important, but necessary. Critique here does not imply a blind criticism of somebody’s faith, but that of organised religion – of institutionalising faith in a way that there are strict, unmalleable do’s and don’ts, any deviation from which can mean, well, death.

During college, one of my professors posted this Maggie Smith quote on his Facebook wall:

My dear, religion is like a penis. It’s a perfectly fine thing for one to have and take pride in, but when one takes it out and waves it in my face we have a problem.

I can never forget the discussion that ensued in class the next day.

I realised how it’s alright to follow a faith, a set of beliefs, but it’s not alright to kill in its name, to thrust it upon others and to become self-styled custodians of ‘religion.’

I remember a class discussion where we discussed the Quran and Islam, with a Muslim classmate. I remember analysing the text in ways that could, well, be deemed blasphemous.

I remember a class where a professor ripped apart Milton’s Paradise Lost, and consequently the Bible, telling us how Satan was scorned, asking us to rethink him as the absolute ‘evil’ figure. I also remember my teacher calling Moses, a fool.

I remember one class at the media school I studied in, where our professor got us xerox copies of an alternate interpretation of the Ramayana and how we revelled in the multiplicity of the text. We enacted Surpanakha abusing Lakshman for cutting her nose. Apart from the theatrics, the subversive possibilities of the interpretation was exciting, to say the least.

I also remember watching Ram Ke Naam and thinking about the dangers of appropriating a religious figure for a set of regressive, vicious ends. I remember pondering over the Hindu-isation of religion, and of attempts to shove it on everybody else.

Questioning the system is crucial in an ethos where eating beef can lead to death, or expressing a desire to leave India from the fear of growing intolerance is enough to label somebody ‘anti-national’, or where anti-superstition scholars are gunned down in broad daylight.

Questioning and critiquing institutions made me realise that ideas are manufactured, that the belief that things around us are part of a ‘natural’ order is a big fat myth. College taught me that critically analysing texts can help subvert the overwhelming perpetuation of an ‘objective truth.’ It also taught me that there is no ‘truth’, that there are multiple version of ‘truths’.

Which is why when Wendy Doniger’s critique of Hinduism is met with virulent protests, and Salman Rushdie’s writing is banned, I realise how difficult it has become to question anything.

Humanities is probably one of the few disciplines that is open to self critique, to inward questioning and somewhere the essence of studying a subject lies in the idea of critiquing – not only religion, but an overall value of questioning anything that is considered too sacrosanct, too immune to criticism.

The very foundation that any such questioning relies on, is anchored to the substrate of any civilisation – the formative minds, the students.

It is imperative that the young minds are inculcated with constructive dissent because every time they get taught a lesson, the possibility of future generations getting taught the same lesson increases.

College is a space that provides much more than education, as it’s commonly understood. It’s a space where alternative ideas nurture and grow.

And that’s why dear government, stop attacking colleges, professors and students for not prescribing, proscribing or adhering to your ideology.

That’s not our job.