Skip to main content

Why I am not a Patriot


“A world full of patriots may be a world full of strife,” wrote Bertrand Russell in his book Why Men Fight.  Patriotism assumes that one’s own country is superior to others.  Patriotism is like religion, Russell goes on to say.  Apart from the sense of superiority, it is also founded on a sense of self-righteousness.  The patriot believes that his country possesses the ultimate truths.  There are a few bloggers who have shot to prominence in the last few months – after nationalism became a pet theme in India – who vindicate Russell’s arguments.  There is no truth outside the Gita, there is no epic greater than the Mahabharata, and there is no greater religion than the Hindu dharma, according to these blogger-patriots.

My primary opposition to patriotism is precisely the blinkered vision on which it is founded.  It prevents one from seeing the bigger picture.  It withholds one from admiring what is good in other countries.  How terrible a loser I would be if I were to shut my eyes to the whole treasure that lies in European literature!  Yes, my best friends are books and I have found the best of them coming from countries other than my own.  I’m not saying that there are no good writers in India.  I’m saying that I have found my favourite writers outside the country.  Do I cease to be a patriot when I say that?

The kind of patriotism that today’s nationalists uphold would withhold a lot of treasures apart from books too.  There’s a whole world of music, films, arts, and so on that lies out there beyond my country’s borders and is fabulously charming.  Do I cease to be a patriot because I admire those great works?

Russell argues that patriotism is no different from the tribal feeling of “loyalty to the sovereign.”  Art, music, literature, and all similar creative processes lie far beyond the tribal feeling of loyalty.  That is why patriots find it hard to accept writers and artists who question certain loyalties.  And yet art and literature cannot be loyal to narrow concepts.  Creative thinking is essentially subversive, Russell says towards the end of the book mentioned above. 

Albert Einstein subverted Isaac Newton though the latter’s genius is still valid in science.  Socrates was killed because his philosophy was subversive.  The Buddha had to face opposition from the aristocrats of his time whose system he subverted.  Jesus was a subversive.  The most serious problem with patriotism is that it prevents free thinking.  Like religion, it makes fetishes out of national symbols and motifs.  It prevents us from questioning ourselves, our beliefs, our ideas, our smugness.  It prevents us from growing.  That is why I don’t want to be a patriot.  I want to be open to whatever is good wherever it may come from. 

I admire the Gita, the Mahabharata and the profundity of the Indian philosophies.  But I also admire Spinoza and Kafka.  Kazuo Ishiguro inspires me as much the Katha Upanishad. That is why I find it difficult to embrace the kind of patriotism peddled copiously these days.


Comments

  1. I 100% agree and ditto your views!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Russell said it so well. And you have made your point too. This needs to be said. I particularly liked your line ' Art, music, literature, and all similar creative processes lie far beyond the tribal feeling of loyalty.'

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Those who can produce art, music, etc, or at least appreciate them, won't take refuge in patriotism!

      Delete
  3. Well said. A creative mind is a way beyond all trivial feelings. Be it fake patriotism or religion. I agree with all your points. Very nicely portrayed.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Unfortunately, now many writers are also taking political stands and thus losing objectivity. Gaining certain temporary victories has become the goal of many writers!

      Delete
  4. What is being commercialized as patriotism is sham. The feeling of pride for one's nation taking the form of ridiculous worship can only be a recipe for disaster.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Patriotism is another weapon, Sunaina. They are using it for subordinating certain sections of people.

      Delete
  5. Finally! A sane voice! Love the way you said it all sir :) I have been lucky to have been brought up in a family where everyone's opinions are respected. Even though my parents belong to different religions as well as always vote for different political parties,they have never created a toxic environment in our family based on religion or politics and I grew up thinking that this must be so in every family in our society *sigh* I have no issues with people having different opinions or even blogging about it, but the tendency to brand someone who doesn't share THEIR particular opinions as 'traitor' or 'anti India' is disturbing. I mean, why can't we sit down calmly and talk about our problems, why must we always blame, point fingers, curse and abuse? Especially on social media, so much of abuse and constant bickering and a rush to prove oneself as 'ultimate patriot', My gosh, look at me babble on and on :D Thanks Sir for a sane voice!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pranita a perverted genius

Bulldozer begins its work at Sawan Pranita was a perverted genius. She had Machiavelli’s brain, Octavian’s relentlessness, and Levin’s intellectual calibre. She could have worked wonders if she wanted. She could have created a beautiful world around her. She had the potential. Yet she chose to be a ruthless exterminator. She came to Sawan Public School just to kill it. A religious cult called Radha Soami Satsang Beas [RSSB] had taken over the school from its owner who had never visited the school for over 20 years. This owner, a prominent entrepreneur with a gargantuan ego, had come to the conclusion that the morality of the school’s staff was deviating from the wavelengths determined by him. Moreover, his one foot was inching towards the grave. I was also told that there were some domestic noises which were grating against his patriarchal sensibilities. One holy solution for all these was to hand over the school and its enormous campus (nearly 20 acres of land on the outskirts

Queen of Religion

She looked like Queen Victoria in the latter’s youth but with a snow-white head. She was slim, fair and graceful. She always smiled but the smile had no life. Someone on the campus described it as a “plastic smile.” She was charming by physical appearance. Soon all of us on the Sawan school campus would realise how deceptive appearances were. Queen took over the administration of Sawan school on behalf of her religious cult RSSB [Radha Soami Satsang Beas]. A lot was said about RSSB in the previous post. Its godman Gurinder Singh Dhillon is now 70 years old. I don’t know whether age has mellowed his lust for land and wealth. Even at the age of 64, he was embroiled in a financial scam that led to the fall of two colossal business enterprises, Fortis Healthcare and Religare finance. That was just a couple of years after he had succeeded in making Sawan school vanish without a trace from Delhi which he did for the sake of adding the school’s twenty-odd acres of land to his existing hun

Machiavelli the Reverend

Let us go today , you and I, through certain miasmic streets. Nothing will be quite clear along our way because this journey is through some delusions and illusions. You will meet people wearing holy robes and talking about morality and virtues. Some of them will claim to be god’s men and some will make taller claims. Some of them are just amorphous. Invisible. But omnipotent. You can feel their power around you. On you. Oppressing you. Stifling you. Reverend Machiavelli is one such oppressive power. You will meet Franz Kafka somewhere along the way. Joseph K’s ghost will pass by. Remember Joseph K who was arrested one fine morning for a crime that nobody knew anything about? Neither Joseph nor the men who arrest him know why Joseph K is arrested. The power that keeps Joseph K under arrest is invisible. He cannot get answers to his valid questions from the visible agents of that power. He cannot explain himself to that power. Finally, he is taken to a quarry outside the town wher

Levin the good shepherd

AI-generated image The lost sheep and its redeemer form a pet motif in Christianity. Jesus portrayed himself as a good shepherd many times. He said that the good shepherd will leave his 99 sheep in order to bring the lost sheep back to the fold. When he finds the lost sheep, the shepherd is happier about that one sheep than about the 99, Jesus claimed. He was speaking metaphorically. The lost sheep is the sinner in Jesus’ parable. Sin is a departure from the ‘right’ way. Angels raise a toast in heaven whenever a sinner returns to the ‘right’ path [Luke 15:10]. A lot of Catholic priests I know carry some sort of a Redeemer complex in their souls. They love the sinner so much that they cannot rest until they make the angels of God run for their cups of joy. I have also been fortunate to have one such priest-friend whom I shall call Levin in this post. He has befriended me right from the year 1976 when I was a blundering adolescent and he was just one year older than me. He possesse

Nakulan the Outcast

Nakulan was one of the many tenants of Hevendrea . A professor in the botany department of the North Eastern Hill University, he was a very lovable person. Some sense of inferiority complex that came from his caste status made him scoff the very idea of his lovability. He lived with his wife and three children in one of Heavendrea’s many cottages. When he wanted to have a drink, he would walk over to my hut. We sipped our whiskies and discussed Shillong’s intriguing politics or something of the sort while my cassette player crooned gently in the background. Nakulan was more than ten years my senior by age. He taught a subject which had never aroused my interest at any stage of my life. It made no difference to me whether a leaf was pinnately compound or palmately compound. You don’t need to know about anther and stigma in order to understand a flower. My friend Levin would have ascribed my lack of interest in Nakulan’s subject to my egomania. I always thought that Nakulan lived