Rationalism As A Tool For Literary Criticism

As a rationalist, I'm always thrilled to see incisive analysis based on hard logic applied to subjects whose treatment has traditionally been reverential and unquestioning. Religious and quasi-religious texts have generally escaped critical analysis, but so too have some established classics in literature.

For an example of how a quasi-religious epic like the Mahabharata can be interpreted if one is only willing to approach it without reverence is illustrated by Seshadri Kumar's answer to the question on Quora, "What was the sole [motive] of Krishna behind the Kurukshetra war?"

As an example of a traditionalist Hindu answer (which is a supreme shrug of the shoulders - "God works in mysterious ways"), one Quora member says

Bhagavad Gita (Chapter IV-7)

"Whenever there is decay of righteousness O! Bharatha And a rise of unrighteousness then I manifest Myself!"

This sholaka form Bhagvad Gita answers the question why a war was essential; it was done to re-establish the Dharma and to teach the generations to come that whenever there is rise of Adharma, establishment of Dharma would be done by the Lord himself or by his messengers. 

Another member answers in a similar vein

At the beginning of the Mahabharata, there's an anecdote on how mother earth comes to Vishnu, to request Him to reduce her burden. Similarly, the rishis ask Him to save them from Kamsa. And Vishnu decides to take a poornaavatara. He descends to Teach and Establish Dharma and Fight and Destroy Adharma.

Seshadri Kumar cuts through to the heart of the matter, not letting the claimed divinity of Krishna get in the way. And his answer is illuminating.

I applied similar logic when discussing Shakespeare's play Hamlet with my son, and in the process, I discovered the major character behind the entire play, who only has a small role in the play itself!

Shakespeare's plays have enduring appeal because they speak to people in a highly personalised way. They are ambiguous and nuanced, and they lend themselves to alternative interpretations depending on the reader's point of view. Indeed, the same person revisiting a Shakespearean play many years later would get a different message from it.

This was indeed my experience. I had first read Hamlet long ago in my youth, and when I discussed it today, I found I was thinking about it very differently. When I was much younger, I took the entire play at face value and thought I had been able to appreciate it for what it was. I couldn't have been more wrong. Today, I realised that I had changed enormously as a person since I last approached the play, and consequently, it seemed a completely different story. The big change in my life has been my move away from being a religious believer to being an atheist or a rationalist. And when I thought of Hamlet today, I realised that the one aspect of the story that stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb was the ghost of the old king.

As a rationalist, I now know that supernatural phenomena like ghosts simply don't exist. So did Shakespeare do nothing more than write a silly ghost story?

Not so fast.

I applied the same logic that Seshadri Kumar did to the Mahabharata. I assumed that the play was literally true, i.e., that the characters all did see and do the things they have been depicted as seeing or doing.

Now, the play became a lot more interesting. If there was no ghost, then who was it that Hamlet, Horatio and the soldiers saw at the beginning of the play? It must have been a flesh-and-blood person, but what was his identity?

To answer that question, we need to ask ourselves what the ghost actually did. And the answer to that question is that the ghost incited Hamlet to kill his uncle in revenge for the murder of his father.

Now why would someone impersonate a dead king to incite the murder of the current one? Well, as the detective at the scene of a murder might ask, who stands to gain from the crime? Who is the beneficiary? And indeed, the answer is clear at the end of the play. It is Fortinbras, prince of Norway, who arrives in Denmark in time to see the ruling family dead and the kingdom ready to fall into his lap.

Who is Fortinbras anyway? He's the son of King Fortinbras of Norway, who was killed by the elder king Hamlet. The younger Fortinbras has been gathering an army to attack Denmark in revenge, but has been restrained by his uncle the current king of Norway.

Now that's very interesting. So Fortinbras wants to attack Denmark under its current king Claudius, avenge his father's death and win territory for his kingdom. He's thwarted by his uncle in his plans to attack Denmark outright, and so he goes on a campaign against Poland instead, for "a little patch of ground that hath no profit in it but the name". The campaign against Poland is therefore just a smokescreen. Although Fortinbras made a vow before his uncle "never more to give the assay of arms" against Claudius, it's clear he intends to achieve his purpose by other means. Denmark is always his primary target.

So, now that we have a suspect and have established a possible motive for his act, let's look at the options one would have in Fortinbras's place, now that direct military action is ruled out. The most obvious route is to look for and exploit schisms within the Danish ruling circle. After sufficient investigation, the murder of the elder king Hamlet by Claudius must have been uncovered, and in the process a potential ally (prince Hamlet) identified. But Hamlet was oblivious of his father's murder and would have to be told. Why would he believe an outrageous story like that? What proof could Fortinbras furnish to Hamlet to convince him of Claudius's guilt? None at all!

That's probably why Fortinbras decided to use the stratagem of impersonating the king's ghost and telling Hamlet the story from the old king's point of view. As a superstitious man (like most people were in that society), Hamlet would not dare ask the ghost for proof. He would accept the story without question. And that is exactly what happened. With the seeds of doubt planted in his mind, Hamlet then set about doing all the things he had to do before the play ended. And once Denmark's ruling family lay dead, Fortinbras mysteriously appeared to claim the Danish throne and avenge his father.

A dark night, a bit of makeup, and an armor that hid everything about a face except for the eyes exposed by a visor - that was all that was needed. (It need not have been Fortinbras himself who impersonated the dead king. It could have been anyone from his entourage who had similar features.) The plan worked brilliantly. Hamlet was so convinced by Fortinbras's story that after some hesitation, he set about planning his revenge. The later scene of the ghost when Hamlet is alone with his mother is probably Hamlet being delusional. His mother can see no ghost. It is entirely in his own imagination, unlike at the beginning of the play, when Horatio, Bernardo and the soldiers can all see the ghostly figure in armour.

And so this is Shakespeare's clever story of Hamlet - a story of how the young prince Fortinbras of Norway avenged his father's death and won a victory over his enemy Denmark by setting the prince of Denmark against his own uncle. The entire play was about how Fortinbras's brilliant plan to conquer Denmark succeeded.

As with Seshadri Kumar's analysis of the Mahabharata, my own analysis of Hamlet from a rationalist point of view led to an answer that should really not be surprising in hindsight.

Modi's Tenure - A Retrieved Reformation?

The genius of O Henry shows in his stories, full of clever insights into the human condition, with humour, pathos and the mandatory twist at the end. One of the nicest is A Retrieved Reformation, the story of a professional safecracker called Jimmy Valentine who changes his ways, decides to live a straight life and marry the girl he loves - a banker's daughter. But the law is catching up with him for his past. At the story's denouement, a detective is waiting to arrest him at the bank owned by Jimmy's future father-in-law. An unexpected moment of drama occurs when a little girl gets locked inside the bank's vault. Jimmy is forced to risk losing it all by revealing his true identity when he decides to crack the vault and save the child. Moved by that selfless act, the detective who has come to arrest him pretends not to recognise him and leaves.

An O Henry-esque story is playing out in India with the inauguration of Narendra Modi as prime minister. Regardless of Modi's vaunted skills as an administrator and a no-nonsense decision maker, one aspect of his past that he has been unable to live down is the planned rioting and huge loss of life that occurred on his watch in Gujarat in 2002, in which mainly Muslims were targeted and killed. Modi's complicity in the riots could never be proven "beyond the shadow of a doubt", the standard required to secure a conviction under the "innocent until proven guilty" legal system. However, the evidence for it, although circumstantial, is still substantial. A secretly recorded sting video of a few key players in those riots (one of whom was later sentenced to life in prison) reveals that Modi not only knew about, and encouraged, the riots, but also used his power as Chief Minister to protect the perpetrators and thwart justice later on.

Warning - some of the admissions here are graphic and chilling

Today, this man is India's prime minister, elected on a plank of development. There are millions of people who are quite willing to forgive and forget whatever happened in 2002, provided he delivers the economic benefits that he has been promising - benefits that even Muslims will enjoy, as people keep pointing out. It's a Faustian bargain made by the electorate, and not one that can be easily condemned. After all, the alternative to Modi's BJP was the Congress, with its staggering tradition of corruption and its own dirty list of planned riots and killing over the decades. In a near-binary system, a rejection of one party automatically means the elevation of the other, and so the BJP's turn at power was probably the only realistic outcome.

For his part, although Modi has consistently denied involvement in the riots, he has hinted obliquely that they will not occur again. He has promised to make development his sole agenda, and there are strong reasons to believe that he is sincere. Indeed, he cannot afford another conflagration on his watch. It will put paid to his hopes of leaving behind a legacy in which he is remembered as 'Vikas Purush' (Man of Development).

But all this still leaves one with a philosophical dilemma. Must we always be forced to choose the lesser of two evils? And by what measure do we decide which is the lesser evil? How do we view crime, punishment, expiation, reparations, forgiveness, and reconciliation? The Nuremberg trials and the African Truth and Reconciliation Commissions offer very different models of closure. One deals with "justice" of a retributive kind, the other of a pragmatic way to let people move on. The Nuremberg model has been attempted, and it has failed. Modi has been officially acquitted by the highest court in the land, and the legal option has therefore run its course. Reconciliation seems the only realistic way to move forward, but what we have today is an uneasy limbo. The main element of reconciliation is remorseful acknowledgement. "I'm sorry I murdered your family" is what many people in Rwanda said to genocide survivors, and then they all moved on. There has been no such acknowledgement by Modi or the BJP, just a promise of economic benefits that aren't quite called reparations. It's like corporations paying compensation to victims without admitting wrongdoing. Muslims are expected to collect the economic benefits of a Modi government and forget 2002.

Although I have always harboured deep misgivings about Narendra Modi, I have reconciled myself to his election victory and to the fact that he will probably serve more than one term as prime minister. The previous Congress government was so bad that he can only be an improvement, and he is sure to want to prove himself with a vengeance, so he will almost certainly effect many welcome changes and be rewarded with a second term.

But it is not for me to reconcile myself to anything. I lost nothing in 2002, except in a vicarious humanistic sense. It's the Muslim community that has to do the reconciling, and it is admittedly harder for them, just as it has been hard for the Sikhs to reconcile themselves to the Congress party after the 1984 riots. Modi could make it easier for everyone by apologising and seeking forgiveness. That would be the best way for the country to move forward, but I suspect that is not going to happen. The hardliners in his own party would view that as a betrayal.

There is an old Jewish principle that I have read about, which says there can be no forgiveness without apology. Even with the best hopes of Indians realised and an economy that grows at a stellar rate over the next few decades, without true reconciliation that comes from an apology, India can achieve no more than Trishanku's heaven.

Liberal India's Fear Of The Unknown

Why is Narendra Modi's possible victory causing so much dread in so many Indians?

Is it just a mindless fear of the unknown, as some have suggested? Or is it the insight from Organisational Behaviour that culture is always more important than strategy?

The latter idea takes a bit of explaining. It is the observation that an organisation with a healthy culture will have the wherewithal to adapt to circumstances and try various strategies until it finds what works. A organisation with a brilliant vision and strategy but with a toxic culture will ultimately fail. It will lose customers, it will be punished by the stock market, and its executives may even go to jail.

This wisdom about culture trumping strategy every time is as true of countries as it is true of corporations. A country with a tolerant, pluralistic culture can leverage its diversity to its advantage. Its elected governments learn to be inclusive and fair, pursuing balanced growth over unequal development. In contrast, a society that pursues "purity" (by whatever ideological criterion) risks not only losing the advantages that diversity brings with it, but even weakening itself. Germany exemplifies the latter, where a popular vote in favour of strong leadership in 1933 resulted in utter devastation in just 12 short years. Historical analysts have written tomes about the various reasons for Germany's catastrophic fate, but ultimately, the reason can be stated in a nutshell. The cause was the German populace's willingness to cut corners on culture because they were impatient for a leader with a vision and strategy.

This is the real reason why many Indians fear the advent of Narendra Modi, his fervent followers, and all that they represent. This is not primarily about the 2002 riots, although one could view that as a symptom of what is to be feared.

It is the general mood of impatience, and the willingness to cut corners to achieve objectives. It is the elevation of strategy over culture.

India's culture of pluralism and tolerance did not come about with the adoption of a democratic constitution in 1950, or because of the moral leadership of Mahatma Gandhi in the couple of decades before that. Rather, the inherent culture of India from time immemorial has always been pluralistic and tolerant. In fact, this culture is what shaped the philosophy and strategy of leaders like Gandhi. It is this culture that made a progressive, secular, democratic constitution an easy fit for a country with such an ancient civilisation. But today, this very culture has come under threat from the grassroots up. There is a chill in the air, an increasing intolerance of dissent and criticism, with friends and clansmen turning against one another with rare hostility over political difference. Even during the Emergency of 1975-77, one could trust one's close friends and relatives when criticising Indira Gandhi's government. Today, hundreds of thousands of friendships have been strained (most visibly on social media) because of political difference. Many more people are choosing to maintain a discreet silence rather than voice unpopular opinions.

In this stifling atmosphere, one mollifying mantra is chanted to drown out all others - Development. Development will heal all the wounds that intolerance may inflict, so the theory goes. Elect a "strong" leader, suppress all contrary opinions, watch the country grow at a rapid pace, and finally everyone will benefit, majority and minority alike. It's an appealing argument. Unfortunately, that's also the classic fallacy of neglecting culture for strategy.

The toxic culture of intolerance for dissent that we are witnessing has been commented on by many writers, including Sagarika Ghose and Aatish Taseer. And ironically, the invective that is heaped on such people in the guise of rebuttal serves to underscore their arguments. India is sliding towards a more dictatorial culture, one personified by an emerging political leader but also one that is eagerly fanned by his willing followers.

Indira Gandhi had to pay goons to silence her opponents. Modi's goons (of both the white collar and the blue collar variety) do the job willingly, out of righteous conviction - the conviction that the ends (a strong economy) justify the means (a markedly less liberal society). Such stories do not end well in either fiction or in history, as JK Rowling and 1930s Germany can tell us.

And this is why liberals fear for India. 

Echoes Of Hymns Past

The name "Saravana Bhavan" came up in conversation today. This is of course a famous chain of restaurants that originated in Tamil Nadu and now claims to be the largest chain of vegetarian restaurants in the world.

The name set off a curious chain (if you will) of thoughts in my head. I remembered hearing a religious song long ago with the words "Saravana Bhavana" in it. My own parents didn't play much religious music in the house, but when I used to visit my grandmother in Madurai (which was once or twice every year), I would get to experience a different kind of lifestyle and culture. I remember my aunt playing the song "(S)kanda Sashti Kavacham" (or "Kandar Sashti Kavasam"), a song in praise of Lord Muruga (also known as Karthikeya or Subramaniam).

Since everything is on YouTube nowadays, I was quickly able to track down the song. Hearing it with adult ears gave me a different sense altogether. As a well-designed piece of music, it has few parallels. The tune is catchy, being quite melodious and repetitive, with some variation to keep it from becoming too monotonous. It employs alliteration and onomatopoeia. I guess the devout would also find the lyrics very moving.

Speaking of lyrics, I could only understand about half the words, since I have never formally learned Tamil (the formal and colloquially spoken forms of the language are very different). I found a clip on YouTube with lyrics, and I realised with dismay that not only was my vocabulary inadequate, my ability to read the script was so far below par that I could barely keep pace with the song. If I had to sing karaoke, I would fail miserably. I guess that's what comes from growing up in another linguistic state from your own. I can read Kannada faster than I can read Tamil, and I can read Hindi far faster than either Kannada or Tamil. Hindi was my second language at school, and Kannada my third, and of course, I never learnt Tamil formally at all. Not surprisingly, my skills in these languages follow that order. I taught myself Tamil in my late teens and early twenties when studying at IIT Madras. On my weekend city bus trips to visit my local relatives in Madras (now Chennai), I would look out of the window at the shop signs (which were in both Roman and Tamil scripts) and try to decipher the Tamil words. Gradually, I got better, to the point where I can now read and understand cartoons in Tamil. (My ambition is to improve to the point where I can read Kalki's classics in the original - Ponniyin Selvan, Sivagamiyin Sapatham and Parthiban Kanavu.)

[It's related to my belief that if Indians studied the history of the Pallavas and Cholas more and that of the Mughals less, they would have greater cultural self-confidence because of the emphasis on victories and successful power projection far afield rather than of defeat and humiliation at the hands of foreign invaders. And no, I'm neither jingoistic nor one of those Hindutva types, just someone impatient with the attitudes of servility and diffidence that have sapped the Indian character.]

Anyway, here is "Kanda Sashti Kavacham". I enjoyed it, and I hope you do too.

Kanda Sashti Kavacham - The odd references to cat's hair (11:08) and suchlike are added curiosities

From Yashodhara to Jashodaben - The Unsung Victims Of Patriarchy's Noble Heroes

The uncertainty over the marital status of Indian prime ministerial candidate Narendra Modi was finally cleared when the candidate declared in his nomination papers that he was indeed married, and to one Jashodaben (The Gujarati variant of the common Indian name Yashoda). The lady is a retired schoolteacher on a modest pension, who has lived alone or with her brothers ever since her non-starter of a marriage to Modi.

Details of the marriage are murky, but the broad outlines of it seem to be that Narendra Modi and Jashodaben had an arranged marriage when they were both very young (whether it was a child marriage is in dispute). The marriage was not consummated, and Narendra Modi left his young wife to become a "pracharak" (evangelist) for the Hindu Nationalist RSS, since that organisation insists on celibacy for all its pracharaks. He apparently lived in solitary simplicity for many years while he served his organisations (the RSS and its political arm, the BJP), until he finally entered the limelight in 2001 with his elevation to the position of Chief Minister for Gujarat. But even in the 13 years since then, when he was no longer an RSS pracharak and hence no longer under the requirement of celibacy, he did not acknowledge his wife and instead continued to project the public image of a bachelor.

Today, a number of questions are being asked about this behaviour.

To the traditionalist Hindu BJP supporter, such questions are outrageous. The phenomenon of householders renouncing their worldly ties and taking up "sannyasa" (the way of life of the renunciate) is a common one in Hindu culture. It is glorified as a spiritually meritorious act. To such a follower, Narendra Modi's act of walking away from his marriage and his young wife in order to serve his nation was an act of sacrifice that is highly praiseworthy.

Indeed, the person Modi is often compared to in this regard is Prince Siddhartha, one of the most famous renunciates in the history of the subcontinent, who later became the Buddha. One night, while his young wife Yashodhara and baby son Rahula slept, the prince stole away from the palace, and embarked upon his long spiritual quest, which ultimately led him to enlightenment and gave the world a new religion.

In these days of feminist-inspired thought, a few brave voices have dared to ask if the Buddha was a great soul, or a really lousy husband and father. (Similar questions are asked of the behaviour of Rama in the Hindu epic Ramayana).

By all accounts, just as Yashodhara before her, Jashodaben is a model Indian wife, bearing her lot with patience and continuing to pray and fast for her husband's success and happiness, and this is again something that the traditionalists point to with approval and pride. But is it indeed something praiseworthy, or is it a kind of cultural Stockholm Syndrome where the victim does not even imagine herself to be the victim, and even fiercely defends her oppressor?

Indian society is entering a new age, and fresh winds are blowing in alien ideas, ideas that suggest that men and women are equal human beings with equal rights, that marriage is a commitment for both parties, that one party to a marriage cannot unilaterally decide to end it without some form of compensation to the other, and so on. These ideas may infuriate the traditionalist, but they are here to stay.

After the horrific Delhi rape of December 2012, and the continuing cases of rape and molestation all over the country, popular attention has focused strongly on the treatment of women and the root causes of it. Patriarchal attitudes are increasingly acknowledged to be the real cause of women's poor status. This is a culture that makes a show of treating women as goddesses or as mother figures, but balks at treating them as equal human beings. 

Indian governments at both the central and state levels are increasingly expected by a young and idealistic nation to exercise modern, progressive value frameworks to make decisions concerning women rather than the feudal and patriarchal ones of traditional Indian society. In this situation, a potential prime ministerial candidate who has exhibited the classic patriarchal lack of concern for his duty towards his wife is cause for worry. How will his government prove responsive to the concerns of women when the person who should be waving to the crowds at his side remains consigned to the shadows?

One thing is clear - Modi will find in the days ahead that the 2002 riots are not the only uncomfortable topic that he will be questioned on.

India's Watershed Election - Why It's Still Not A Now-Or-Never Moment

In heated political discussions with friends, one point that has been repeatedly made by supporters of Narendra Modi is that India faces a now-or-never moment with the 2014 general elections. If Modi is elected with a clear mandate, he will clear the cobwebs of corruption and inefficiency that plague the economy and restore the country's earlier trajectory of high growth. If the Congress party is re-elected (a remote possibility), or if the next government comes to an effective standstill due to an unwieldy coalition, then India would have missed a historic chance to improve its economy and will thenceforth be condemned to remain a poor nation, perhaps for all time.

I don't buy this doomsday argument. I don't believe that this is a bet-the-house kind of election at all. Yes, it is a moment in India's history that could mark a turning point in its fortunes, but there could be others in case this moment is missed.

Some of my friends have pointed out examples of great historical characters who have changed the course of history, implying that Narendra Modi is one such rare giant in a field of pygmies. If India fails to elect him, their argument goes, it will be stuck with pygmies who will fail to restore the country to greatness. However, what's often forgotten is that even great historical characters are products of a society that is ripe for their ideas, because the same ideas have fizzled out when another leader espoused them in an earlier age when society was not ready.

No leader achieves anything alone. They have to motivate and inspire followers, and in order to attract a critical mass of followers, it is imperative that their message, however revolutionary, resonate with a significant number of people. In other words, society has to be ready for change in order for a great historical character to be able to work their magic.

India has been ripe for change for a few years now. That's really why the Congress is finished. Corruption, inefficiency, all of these have played a part, but now the operative force is the electorate's desire for change. Rahul Gandhi simply doesn't represent change! He's just more of the same. His father Rajiv Gandhi in 1984 was described by political pundits as representing both continuity and change. Rahul does not have that cachet.

Whether one likes it or not (and the BJP and AAP supporters will both resent the comparison), both Modi and Kejriwal are expressions of the Indian people's desire for change. Electoral arithmetic will tell who succeeds in this election, but the winds of change are durable and not dependent on a single person, because they spring from the aspirations of Indian society.

That's why I'm sanguine about India's progress. It is going to happen because people want change and society will throw up a leader who will bring about change. It may be Modi, or it may be someone else. The actual person doesn't matter. Even if today's top leaders are nowhere on the scene, change will still occur. New leaders will be found, and things will change. Even if the parliament that emerges after this election is hung, and the government collapses in a couple of years, there will be another chance and another leader. And another. And another. Because people's aspirations are not going to be set aside just because one particular political configuration did not deliver.

My personal preference, as I described in my article for McKinsey, is for a federal polity where the states are autonomous and compete with one another for investment and labour, and where it is less important who the prime minister is. I think decentralisation will willy-nilly come about because it is the only way to resolve the logjam of coalition politics at the centre.

In any case, India will be unrecognisable in 15 years. The change will have been brought about by the people. Even if Modi is PM for 3 terms, this progress would not be due to him, but due to the forces already marshalled and waiting for the moment.

In the early sixties, the question "After Nehru, who?" used to be despairingly posed by people even when Jawaharlal Nehru was still alive. He would respond jocularly, yet entirely seriously, "After Nehru, you!"

So let it be in 2014. The leader is only the vehicle. The true agent for change is the populace. 

A National Geographic picture of an Indian crowd which I cropped into a silhouette of Narendra Modi using The GIMP.

A Socially-Engineered Loss Of National Confidence

A recent article by Jeff Smith in The Diplomat ("Andaman and Nicobar Islands: India’s Strategic Outpost") underscored to me yet again that India's strength and strategic potential are underestimated by its own leaders and strategic thinkers. Foreign analysts like Smith who look at India with unbiased eyes (and with none of the baggage that Indians carry) see a much more powerful country than Indians themselves do, and are frankly surprised that India hasn't done more to exploit its potential. Smith says about the Andaman and Nicobar Islands (ANI):

With such premier real estate, Western observers might expect the ANI to be a cornerstone in India’s maritime strategy; a firewall against threats to the east and a power-projection platform serving India’s interests in the Pacific. And yet, by all accounts the ANC is only modestly equipped militarily.

Where Indian voices are heard arguing for boldness, they often tend to swing to the other extreme, of bravado and over-reach.

Others in the military establishment see the ANC as a “trump card” against China, ideally positioned to interdict Chinese oil supplies from the Gulf and Africa in any potential Sino-Indian confrontation. Some 80 percent of China’s oil imports currently pass through the Strait of Malacca. Retired Rear Admiral Raja Menon argues: “Today they are merely SLOCS [Sea Lines of Communication]; tomorrow they will be the Chinese Jugular…. [$10 billion] spent on strengthening the Indian Navy’s SLOC interdiction capability would have given us a stranglehold on the Chinese routes into the Indian Ocean.”

To quote Darryl Kerrigan from The Castle, "tell 'em they're dreamin'". A "stranglehold on Chinese routes" is probably a pipe-dream, but a credible threat to Chinese shipping in the Indian Ocean can definitely elicit more accommodation from China in its territorial claims on Arunachal Pradesh, for example. A more measured assessment of what lies within India's reach is lacking.

It takes a foreigner to see with both clarity and realism what Indians cannot. India has lost the ability to think boldly and strategically, yet realistically. I think 600 years of foreign conquest and domination have turned Indian planners and thinkers into timid, risk-averse souls who only think of defence and survival, and who occasionally compensate with grandiose plans full of bravado without the wherewithal to carry them out.

I have commented before on the carrot-and-stick lessons that Mughal and British rule must have taught Indian rulers. Those who opposed the foreign conqueror were mercilessly hounded and crushed (e.g., Hemu, Rana Pratap, Tipu Sultan, the Rani of Jhansi, Kittur Chennamma). Those who cooperated with the foreign conqueror were rewarded and allowed to flourish (e.g., Rana Man Singh of Amer and Maharaja Sayyaji Rao Gaekwad III of Baroda). I believe it was a form of social engineering that taught successive generations of Indians to be servile and never to raise their head or their voice against authority.

From time to time, a worm will turn, but this rebellion is often impulsive and driven by momentary bravado, rather than by longstanding confidence, and such attempts at "lashing out" are ultimately unsuccessful. India's greatest heroes are tragic ones. Indians see greater romance in tragedy than in success. Undefeated kings like Raja Kumbha and Maharaja Ranjit Singh are not feted as much as tragic losers Prithviraj Chauhan, the aforementioned Rani of Jhansi and sepoy Mangal Pandey. The Indian chararacter is to either live with dishonour, or die with honour. Living with honour doesn't seem to have as much appeal.

The recent publication of the Henderson Brooks-Bhagat report on the Indo-China war makes pretty much the same scathing critique of the Indian leadership in 1962 and earlier. They lacked the imagination and confidence to settle the border question with China in an amicable fashion when China approached India as one newly liberated country to another. And they thought, without justification, that they could take on the superior Chinese military. They paid the price, and the 1962 war probably reinforced the lessons of history in the Indian psyche, that Indians were an inferior race of people who could never hope to prevail militarily against "real" powers, and would have to negotiate in obsequious fashion to survive. Even against a smaller adversary like Pakistan, India has shown a level of restraint that is surprising. It may be fair to say that with almost any other country in India's position, a hostile and India-baiting Pakistan would have quickly ceased to exist.

Thus it continues to the present day. A quiet confidence and a realistic assessment of one's strength, as well as a multi-decade plan to become a Great Power, seem beyond the ken of today's leaders and thinkers. A recent strategic defence publication from an Indian think tank is typically reactive and assumes that India is always in the position of responding to situations outside its control ("The Long View From Delhi" ). It doesn't seem to strike the authors that India can do things to change its security environment and doesn't have to fearfully wait and watch to see what the US and China do.

What a decline from the time of the Cholas! That was when Indian naval power was projected as far afield as Cambodia, and vassal states like the Khmer were protected from their enemies by an Indian naval task force of several hundred ships. In relative terms, the India of today appears in sorry shape.

It is said that confidence is the sweet spot between despair and arrogance. It's high time Indian thinkers and planners found that sweet spot.