By Patricia Mukhim
Every society has its peccadilloes and its virtues as well. There are a lot of things that Khasi society can be proud of but we also are victims of some fatal flaws. On Sunday last I browsed the local news channels and came upon a discussion on the Inner Line Permit (ILP). All the discussants were of one mind. We should have the ILP come hell or high water. They were carefully chosen to represent only one view point. One of the speakers is an aspiring politician; the other a member of the Khasi Hills District Council and the anchor a former college professor made for a very funny trio. Funny, because normally anchors are not supposed to already have a view on a issue. He is supposed to moderate between two extreme views. But I guess we are all learning from the one and only Arnab Goswami of Times Now fame, that the anchor must have the loudest voice and drown out everyone else’s. There was no space for a dissenting voice in that Sunday discussion. Now the question one would wish to ask the media channel (and I know they know which channel I am referring to) is whether those speakers represent popular views or whether they were parading their own views. It would have been educative to have a perceptive audience in the studio ( a la Barkha Dutt in ‘We the People’) to ask pointed questions on the topic of discussion. But obviously we didn’t have the audience because even if someone had a different view he/she might not dare contest the popular notions that have been propounded before theirs over television.
Ours is not an argumentative society. That’s fine. But let’s go into the reasons why we prefer not to argue and to fall in line so easily. Dissent which is important for the development of new and innovative ideas is a word that connotes negativity in the Khasi psyche. Literally translated dissent would be “iapher jingmut” ( not in agreement). When a Khasi does not agree with someone he refuses to get into a debate and to argue out contentious views because he thinks it’s an unpleasant task. Normally when two people disagree they prefer to withdraw with their respective viewpoints and no one is any the wiser. The next step is to pretend that all is well. But is everything really well between people who refuse to listen to each other and are intransigent in their respective viewpoints? The sensible thing to do is to thrash out issues. After all, there are always two sides to a coin and several views, points and counterpoints on any issue.
Khasis are not used to dissent perhaps because somewhere during the process of our socialisation we have been indoctrinated to respect our elders unquestioningly. The deduction is that elders will always have the last word because what they say is based on experiential learning and native wisdom. Anyone who dared to question an elder would be shouted down by everyone in the family and called “khlem akor” (someone without manners). Some would even call a dissenter, “khun tam sneng” ( disobedient child). I have tried to understand my society and to reason out why it shuns debates (jingiatai nia). We know from experience that the only way to sharpen the intellect is to listen and come up with counterpoints/questions/observations and not to simply agree with what somebody has said, no matter how wise the other person is. Dissent and criticism of a current, popular viewpoint is what sustains the academic life of a university. It must be the same in a society.
But when was the last time we had a debate on the functioning of traditional institutions in a modern world? When have we ever debated that the word tradition is incompatible with modernity? Or that a society is dynamic and the only way it can move is forward and not be trapped by the past? And why are we so afraid of laughing at ourselves and of criticism? The past can only teach us to avoid pitfalls not to skirt problems. There is always a solution to every problem. And if we are to believe the Chinese then every problem is an opportunity. So why have we consciously avoided discussions on such themes? Take a guess! My conjecture is that the aversion for debates on ticklish issues is because of fear. Fear of being proven wrong! And you might find it hard to believe but Khasis have always believed that our societal problems should never be discussed with others lest they find out our Achilles heel and take advantage of us. I had once written in these columns that we seem to be living in a perpetual state of fear. Fear of influx, fear of unemployment, fear of the alien (mynder), fear of losing our opportunities to ‘others’, fear of losing our tradition to modern ideas and so on and so forth.
Fear and paranoia are both negative traits. As a collective trait they can create societal stresses and prevent us from opening up to new ideas. Khasis seems to believe that new ideas threaten our comfort zones so we fearful of moving out of those zones. These also are zones we do not want ‘others’ to enter. Why do you think we exclude the non-Khasi residents from taking active part in our Dorbar Shnong? Is it not because we fear they might have better ideas than us and might revolutionise the whole system? Oh no, we must not allow that to happen. We will continue to live with medieval mindsets even if those are pulling us down and have become totally anachronistic and unproductive and defy the template defined by modernity.
I was therefore very happy that Morning Star Sumer penned a counterpoint to my article questioning whether the ILP is the only safeguard against influx and whether there are better solutions. On the same page is a young Khasi gentleman with completely different views on the ILP which have been very explicitly and cogently stated. That is how a democracy should function. There has to be space for as many views to emerge on a single issue. Only by marrying the best of these divergent views can we expect to arrive at a sound decision that is good for all. That’s the hallmark of a vibrant democracy.
But again, what sort of democracy are we living? Democracy for us boils down to a once- in- five- year election followed by government formation. For the rest of the time we live in an oligarchy. Wikipedia defines oligarchy as a form of power structure in which power effectively rests with a small number of people. These people could be distinguished by royalty, wealth, family ties, education etc. Such states are often controlled by a few prominent families who pass their influence from one generation to the next. In an oligarchy rule is often enforced by intimidation. We might scoff at this but let us look at how our selection (not election) to the Dorbar Shnong is conducted. Those who are really keen to win will use all kinds of coercive methods that put psychological pressure on the people in the locality. Would it not have been fairer if there is a nomination committee from within the Shnong which would put up a few names followed by an open debate on the competence of each of the candidates? But no, we insist on sticking to tradition and will not allow a healthy debate even on the choice of a Rangbah Shnong.
So often we have heard people return from the “selection drama” disgusted by the proceedings and angry that they could not have their say. We cannot claim to have consensus when voices of dissent are stifled. When consensus is enforced through subtle means it becomes a threat to democracy. Sadly the Khasi society is flirting with both and this is a dangerous because we may land up in the middle and that middle is a black hole that can only lead to chaos and societal disorder. That’s why perhaps we are often schizophrenic.
I am sure there will be many counterpoints to this article but I am willing to have a heated debate on this issue of coerced consensus seeking.