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A decent bias

The commonwealth of Virginia, I hear, has recently declared itself the capital of the Internet. A good thing too, despite the absurdity of the claim, for here on her southeastern coast, home to over 1.5 million people, life isn't as organised as one might like. Thanks to the state's unusually structured government, the Hampton Roads-Virginia Beach area is now America's largest metropolitan setting without a centralised government, a professional sports team in the big leagues, or a major international getaway. Or a fine newspaper, unfortunately, which has led me to read newspapers online more than in the past. This weekend's events, as chronicled by the Internet non-entities in Washington and New York, took us to the very frontiers of democracy.

In the first instance, Harry Pritchett Jr., dean of the Cathedral of St John the Divine, declined to include Ezra Pound in the Poets' Corner of the cathedral, denying him a treasured place alongside the other nominee this year, the famed F Scott Fitzgerald, and past greats like T S Eliot and Walt Whitman. Pound, we are told, held forth at length in very anti-semitic tones from Mussolini's kingdom during World War II, and later. The church, perhaps sensitive to criticism at a time when the Pope's role in World War II has been the subject of much scrutiny and disgust, and warned of potential protests, has no doubt acted with caution more than anything else. Even the spirited defense of Pound by the writers who nominated him aren't having much effect, apparently.

A word about Pound here. Some years after his prejudicial ranting, he was arrested for treason and imprisoned. Later, at the intervention of some highly acclaimed poets, he was declared mentally unfit, and it is possible that some of his statements can be attributed to an imbalanced mind. But what caught my eye more than anything else in this matter is the language Dean Pritchett used to explain his decision. The dean declared that Pound's "destructive prejudices", reflected in his anti-semitism, had caused plenty of anguish all round, and he just didn't merit recognition based entirely on a separate analysis of his poetry removed from his political actions.

The other net-news item of the weekend to catch my attention also included its traces of anti-semitism. The Ku Klux Klan, having obtained permission to rally in Manhattan, managed to muster a measly 18 people to the gathering, at which Klansman were vastly outnumbered by counter-demonstrators and police, and the head Dragon, as such worthies in the Klan are known, had his face bashed in by men pretending to be supporters. Once again, language from the event is telling. Derek Pearl, arrested on charges of assaulting a Klansman, was asked how he could justify using violence against the racists. In reply, The New York Times reports, he said "if [belief in racial supremacy] isn't reason enough to hurt somebody, I don't know what is."

A destructive prejudice. A justifiable assault. I picked those out from lengthy reports in the print media, a lesson to the wise that television simply doesn't bring the real stories to the fore nearly as well. The precision so inalienable to the process of understanding simply doesn't lend itself to the tune of a newscaster's soundbite between Pepsi commercials.

Back to the matter at hand. What lessons might one draw from these two events? That anti-semitism and racism must be fought vigorously and repeatedly? Yes. That being widely acclaimed in one sphere of life is not a license to be irresponsible or disgusting in another? It seems so, for Mr Pound, certainly. That it is OK to beat up scum who espouse views that are deliberately offensive? That last one, we're not so sure on. And that's where the language of the two incidents comes in.

Of Dean Pritchett, one might ask, is there such a thing as a constructive prejudice? Are there ideas and actions that we can hate with vigour? One can quickly identify a few reasonable ones, so I will grant that the answer is yes. I have a bias against the Klan, for example, because I believe they espouse views that are irrational, harmful, and indecent. I hate muggers and rapists and murderers and felons of every other kind, I readily admit. Further still, I am indifferent to their fate. If a rapist were to be done in by his fellow inmates in prison, I'd say that the rules of incarceration need examination, but wouldn't shed any tears for the dead dirtbag. Perhaps that isn't classical liberalism, but it is still a point of view one can express without shame or guilt.

Of Pearl, one might ask, if everyone took to violence to express strong disapproval of other views, however misguided they may be, would the social structures we have in place not break down rapidly? Should we not permit those who disagree with us the freedom the law allows them? And I would hope that the answer to that question includes a measure of responsibility for one's actions. Yes, Derek Pearl had no business assaulting the Klansman, and maybe there is a price to be paid for such behaviour. Those whose dissent from what the law permits are sometimes aware of the consequences, and their intransigence is little more than civil disobedience.

An interesting term, that, for it conveys nothing besides popular belief; assaulting an intolerant Klansman is disobedience of the law, assaulting a black separatist is an affront to minority identity. But that is the nature of things civil. By its very name, it is no more than the representation of the average person's point of view.

The claim to racial superiority, we readily admit, is one we might have a constructive prejudice against. Anti-semitism is another. These are easier to recognise in a society where the dominant group is not the one being denounced by such views. But would the ideas be any less despicable if the tables were turned. If Jews were to contend that the pagan Christians must be taught the right ways of the world, would that be any less disgusting? If Latino supremacy, or desi supremacy for that matter, became the byword for racial intolerance, would it be more excusable. There's no reason to think so, a rational observer can demonstrate easily enough that it is not the number of people who hold a view that renders it acceptable or otherwise, but its nature.

In the next few weeks, this question will come up again, with the tables helpfully turned for our attention. The head of one of the world's largest organised religions is set to visit India, amid much criticism of the past, and against the backdrop of plenty of recent violence. How right-wing groups in India respond to the Pope's visit is of interest to the media, and maybe to some others who have strong religious preferences. But outside those groups, the larger questions remain. Is evangelism indicative of intolerance? Is it permissible to hate the intolerant? The answers to those questions could well separate Indian democracy from traditional ones elsewhere.

Representative rule in India has faltered largely around questions that were never raised in the lands that first implemented government by the people. We are a nation shackled by the groups into which we have cast ourselves, and the rules for those groups have sometimes been handed down or established by masters from a different order and time. That order taught us to think that violence against all people, however despicable we may find them to be, is to be eschewed, that it is uncivilised. But the old order relies on the dignified conduct of an unthreatened majority, and does not embrace a society in which the dominant groups see themselves to be the targets of bigotry.

That's a lesson we will do well to learn, especially those among us who blindly declare the return of Mussolini and Hitler at every petty crime and rabid shout in minority neighbourhoods. Whatever else one might convince others of, there is increasingly one constant to social organisation in democratic societies. Decency has always professed a bias against the bigoted, without shame. Every faith includes some measure of its own superiority in its doctrine, and so it is with Hinduism. The key difference in the Indian experience is that religious figureheads in Hinduism are asking the leader of another faith to recognise not its superiority, but its equality. Such recognition might indirectly affirm Hinduism more than other faiths, but despite this subtlety it is offered as a claim to decency.

Whether it is a valid one will be judged in time.

Ashwin Mahesh