CHANGING NAMES is of course an attempt to create an image, to bolster an identity, however illusory. Several years ago, living in East Sussex in England, there seemed to be a flurry of name changes by friendly acquaintances who were followers of the hugging saint from Kerala, Amma. Tracey originally from Basingstoke suddenly became Anoushka. Such new names, along with a bindi now on the forehead and an attraction to wearing loose-fitting baggy white clothes, signified the enactment of otherness, a sort of spiritual exoticism that separated them from the usual villagers, especially the rather trussed-up members of the Parish Council in tweeds and wellington boots. I was bizarrely dull by comparison, suited and booted, ready to catch the 6.20 morning train to the city. Of course those most challenged by the insistence that Tracy is now Anoushka, are her parents. “I’m sorry dear, I’m calling you Tracy and that’s that. It’s what I’m used to and it’s what I know you as.”
Name changing, hinting at loss, or indeed hope, inevitably requires adjustment, the ease of which will of course depend on its constant performance. The reiteration in the written as well as spoken word helps of course, as well as, how meaningful it is to those required to articulate it. It was November 1995, that the city of Bombay was officially renamed Mumbai, much to the consternation of many communities in the city. The government of India had finally acceded to the Maharashtra State demands, and the name of the city was changed on all official documentation and representations. The state government, headed by Shiv Sena, and the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), argued that the renaming was intended to highlight the local origins of the city’s name derived from Mumbadevi, the local goddess of Koli fishermen, who originally lived on the islands that became the city of Bombay. The “we” for which the Shiv Sena and the BJP claimed to speak for was the ordinary Marathi speaker. Significant minorities in the city, opposed the renaming on the grounds that Bombay’s cosmopolitan character should be reflected in its name, whilst others, hailed it as representing a positive decolonialisation of British Bombay.
The leadership of the Shiv Sena, a movement that began in 1963, by Bal Thackeray, initially garnered support from the youth clubs (mitra mandales) and such places in the Marathi dominated areas of the City, by appealing to an aggressive brute-force machismo of the body, rather than that of the intellect, providing a sense of belonging and self-esteem to young frustrated men in the metropolis. The bedrock of the Shiv Sena brand is a forcefully masculine sexuality (think saffron robes a huge sword) in keeping with a thrusting urban centre that ridicules intellectuals and the Congress as effeminate and wet. Thackeray’s calls to “brothers, sisters, mothers,” energised hundreds of thousands of Marathi’s to “be proud,” and “to assert yourself.” Leaving aside for one moment, accusations of violence, treachery, and murder, inflicted by Shiv Sena it’s important to understand how this operation of power works so effectively on a psychic level, in mobilising idealisation and commitment amongst the inhabitants of the city. The leadership of the Shiv Sena, in the mid-1960’s, created a network of local “Shakha,” simple venues, in both middle class and low income areas of Bombay and Thane, a network of local welfare strategies providing assistance to those who were struggling with such things as a difficult landlord, corrupt officials or having problems with civic amenities
Much of Shiv Sena’s power came from Bal Thackeray’s motivational use of rhetoric in speeches aimed at such people, to stand-up for oneself, not to sit idly by and allow life to simply happen to you. These are powerful leadership lessons in how to strengthen, at least a large part of a community’s sense of liberation and empowerment. For the anti-authority, disenfranchised, anti-elitist under-class, the generations of bodies displaying their historic malnutrition, Thackeray’s highly public and aggressive style, gave them a sense of certainty, of absolutism that the city was in tough and firm leadership hands, a powerful authoritative fantasy of containing the city’s anxieties, that they could metaphorically take more space in the urban landscape. Unlike perhaps the Congress party, or indeed the British left in the UK, the Shiv Sena brought a vibrant sexuality to bear on political leadership, an understanding of the machinations of psychic fantasy, rather than a limp rhetoric of defeated victimhood and rational narrative that loses supporters, somewhere in the gap between the endless debating and dull rhetoric of ‘for’ and ‘against.’ Rational language - that uses facts to bolster debate, overused lacks of potency, often masking, excusing non-action and apathy, which clearly is not Thackeray’s style. He uses a raw assertiveness of “Do it and do it now,” no explanation required. His incessant repetition of statements (a strategy called “broken record” in leadership communication), his one-liners, provides a psychological sense of leadership determination and security. His vicious attacks against Bombay’s elite heralded a confidence in the working man, by making his very lack of intellectualism, i.e. not being effeminate, a virtue and source of pride.
For many, the Shiva Sena felt like a powerful and dynamic force of energy. It was determined to unlock invisible elitist chains (even if it created new ones), acting as the fantasy of a powerful laxative against constipated bureaucratic systems, the dully wishy-washy leadership of some of the other parties, that gave the culture of the city the impression of one riddled with obstacles. As Suketu Mehta, author of the magnificent book on the city, Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found, put it, a Bombay that always says no, rather than yes. Do not underestimate, as I have found, to get anything done in Bombay/Mumbai, whether registering an apartment, opening a bank account, having a phone installed, getting a new gas cylinder, concluding any business matter whatsoever, resolving any interpersonal dispute, tolerating endless procrastination and failure to make any assertive decisions. It is a characteristic of the city that requires the absolute patience of a saint. Similarly, much time wasting is involved on expending vast amounts of energy talking-up various dreams, how wonderful it will be to do all sorts of amazing things, with an enthusiasm that borders on mania, only to dissipate as quickly as a popped balloon. Somewhere in the gap between that fantastic idea and implementation, complacency and a sense of depression pollutes the already toxic air, “There’s nothing I can do, it’s hopeless,” is a familiar retort. At its worst, it is a a passive-aggressive distancing, the loud resonance of absolute silence and phone calls that are not returned. English and a woman, I find it just ill-mannered. No matter how many times I am told, “Well this is India.”
On a psychic level, any form of “Can-do,” that actually involves the rigours of follow-through, rather than tiresomely procrastinates, or simply dies in despondency, will inevitably appeal in a city where blockages and dead-ends are commonplace. Let’s face one very clear fact about Bombay: many of the inhabitants of the city, attracted by the Shiv Sena are desperately poor. They are painfully diminutive in height, in weight, in muscle, in build, displaying the everyday reality of the collective body of malnutrition. In an elevator, a lift boy will stand next to me at some 4 foot 9 inches, painfully thin, with tiny hands a frail body and feet that belong on a 10 year old, whilst I tower over him, my privileged 5 foot foot 9 inches, and with 3 inch heels to boot. We are a tragic comedy. Macho leadership, the law of the father, no matter how ruthless, the Shiv Sena seems to understand and appeal to the aching city’s psyche that longs for the rhetoric at least, that it acts and just damn well gets things done and says this is not right.
This powerful leadership, in constructing a positive macho identity (often for the diminuitive body remember), inevitably reinforces itself by pointing out what it not, creating the idea of enemies in the Shiv Sena’s highly dramatic alleged targeting of South Indians, communists, “Blood-thirsty slum dwellers” or “Cunning Muslims.” Thackeray’s style, arguably reminiscent of Hitler, provides a powerful combination of dictatorial and charismatic leadership, increasingly many fear, the future for not so much Hitler’s Jews, but Thackeray’s Muslims especially. It is well known that Thackeray admires Hitler’s “Determination to oust anti-nationals from Germany.” Hitler’s rhetorical methods were of course, to dehumanise the other in a kind of medicalising language, as a cancer, a sickness. It is clearly not helpful, nor in my view, rarely decent, to think of any perceived enemy, whether indeed it is Hitler, or of course categories like the Jews, in merely non-human, animalist terms. This is of course what we are inclined to do, and enormously tempting, lazy indeed, even perhaps inevitable when we are subjected to hate and terror. When a group, or indeed an individual deliberately sets out to inject intense anxiety in others, it is highly likely we will lose our mentalizing capacity, to step back for example and think. Hate and anger are reduced by thinking. Thinking is reduced by hate and anger. We are in a bind. In a somewhat fearful state, we are inclined to disassociate, to shut down, or run.
Tyrants like Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot created culture psychoanalysis terms “splitting.” Not only are you either for or against me as the head-honcho, the world is divided into simplistic good and bad categories. What is more interesting perhaps, rather than the merely psychoanalysis of individual leaders, is of course the psychology of the group. How does it happen, and understanding this is vital in my view, do a group of people become so regressed, that they blindly accept any ridiculous propaganda and lies, in one massive group introject (swallow whole). Equally, what are we ourselves judging, whether a group of people on mass, or a single person, that may just be another introject? As psychoanalysis points out, the hint will be that our mentalizing function is absent. We may loath for instance, what we call “Suicide Bombers,” simply because we too are regressed in a group psychology, devoid of any real thinking about the subject, to carelessly name such people in this way, rather than thoughtfully understand that the concept of istishad, which is entirely different and is indeed martyrdom in the service of Allah. Dare we mentalise the perspective of the other? The profound difficulty of doing so described so beautifully in Nelson Mandela’s diaries, who made a difficult transformational decision, yes a loving decision, to live beyond hate, despite having every justifiable reason to do so.
If Marathi identity, is to be the new elitism of Mumbai that inevitably at the very least on a rhetorical level, will necessarily spit out other identities at the very least in language, the very cosmopolitanism of the city is under threat. It would I suppose for any party to be rather uncool and say we are the “short people” party. Yet, condone the Thackeray’s as much as you like and debate the rights and wrongs of their actions, but they understand and live every Harvard Business School edict on charismatic, assertive and transformational leadership, by fully focusing on the internal world, the collective psychology of the city’s inhabitants. A lesson many leaders in India and elsewhere would do well to learn from and get out of their heads, into their bodies.
It’s quite right of course, in this name change of the city, to consider the sense of place for the elites of many communities, such as the Parsi’s, the Muslims, the Gujarati’s (and dare one add the British) who created Bombay. One must of course, inevitably turn towards history, to attempt to make sense of how the name change emerged. As I understand it, originally, Bombay was the territory of the Sultan of Gujarat, who was murdered and forced to give it over to the Portuguese. It would seem, no Indian rulers, whether Maharaja or Maratha, attempted to claim ownership of the soggy islands. This wasteland of Bombay, was then given as the dowry by Catherine of Braganza, during her marriage to Charles II of England, fo the British Crown. The Gujarat’s were among the first people who moved to Bombay in pursuit of trade and commerce, partly, as the port of Surtis was getting rather crammed. The Parsees privately invested heavily in the development of Bombay as a port, as did the Bohra Muslims from Surat, which one might argue set in motion the process of the evolution of Bombay and its emergence as the financial capital of India. Many of the extraordinary heritage structures of the city, schools, colleges, the stock exchange, reflect the diversity of this historical investment that arguably is rather negated in the symbolism of the word “Mumbai.”
“Be careful writing about this name change,” cautioned a friend in the city, “The Shiv Sena is very powerful.” The story of the Bollywood Director, Karan Johar, makes this point rather clearly. In his movie Wake Up Sid, Johar was called by the Shiv Sena, to apologise to Raj Thackeray, for having a character in the film refer to the city as Bombay, rather than Mumbai. Karan Johar responded to news reporters, who knows with what degree of gritted teeth, “I apologize if I have hurt anyone’s sentiments and have agreed to put a one-line disclaimer, stressing this right at the start of the film.” Former MP Kirit Somaiya, claimed that the BJP was instrumental in the renaming of the City from Bombay to Mumbai, commented, “Nobody has the right to refer to it by the old name when it has already been renamed as Mumbai,” he said. Raj Thackeray voiced his unambiguous authority on the matter by saying, “If any producer dares to rename this city and refer to it as Bombay, then my men will protest in typical MNS-style,” he warned.
Is there a wave of change for the city that is reflected in the symbolic change of name to Mumbai? There have been riots and communal difficulties in the past, but perhaps not on such a scale as recent years, that makes many people concerned that it is no longer the city it used to be, that Mumbai is not like Bombay, implying that this is necessarily a bad thing. Salman Rushdie, whose setting for many of his influential novels is the city, said, "The tolerant, open-hearted, secularised Bombay has gone. And I think this [new] Bombay is still interesting, it's still a great capital, it's still a huge buzzing metropolis. It hasn't lost that."
Inevitably, fears run deeply, that the city is becoming increasingly colonised by Hindu nationalist forces, claiming to speak for the ordinary Marathi person, or indeed the everyday elite. Personally, I find myself using both Mumbai and Bombay when talking about the city, for which I do not feel apologetic. In the depths of the south of city, one hears the name ‘Bombay’ reinforced more often than ‘Mumbai’, travelling north, into the somewhat more youthful area of Bandra, ‘Mumbai’ is proclaimed with more frequency, then heading towards the district of Juhu, the heartland of Bollywood, well it seems rather irrelevant when the city is largely referred to as “Sin City” anyway.
No matter how much Anoushka insists to her father that he calls her by her new name, she will always be Tracy and that’s what he’ll call her. Although I did notice when I last saw him that he asked if ‘Anoushka’ knew I was in the UK. Similarly, Mumbai will remain Bombay for many people, perhaps particularly so for the elderly, even if many have followed the Shiv Sena insistence that they change the appearance of their shop-front from “The Bombay Beauty Parlour,” to the “The Mumbai Beauty Parlour.” Some things, simple take time to transfer from the head to the body of the city. Thackeray seems to understand this, even whilst refuting its legitimacy and those that decry his leadership as simply ruthless, divisive to be feared and/or resisted, would do well to look a little closer, to mentalise, even if only as a powerful case study in transformational leadership, power of language that is straightforward and unambiguous.
No comments:
Post a Comment