The recent flurry of debate on our national song, Vande Mataram, has brought into the limelight two very different questions. Both are uneasy and debatable.

1) Is religion greater than country or nation? And 2) Is ‘nationalism’ a matter of personal choice? While I am not inclined to comment on the first, if we focus on the second my answer would be, "Yes", practising ‘nationalism’ is a matter of personal choice. When the question itself is a clever booby trap, the answer has to be a thought provoking diffusion.

If we refer to the Oxford dictionary, the meaning of the word ‘nationalism’ is:

"Nationalism {speaker} noun [U]

1. the desire by a group of people who share the same race, culture, language, etc to form an independent country: Scottish nationalism

2. (sometimes disapproving) a feeling of love for and pride in your country; a feeling that your country is better than any other"

Here, both meanings are problematic. The first because it inherently means nationalism can’t be neutral; it has to be homogenous, creating a one-dimensional ‘melting pot’ identity. The second meaning of course creates a chasm between ‘we’ and ‘they’, and creates ‘know-it-all’ chauvinistic patriarchs.

All forms of nationalism implicitly or explicitly depend upon the solidarity of a majority and the exclusion of a minority. This works together with some form of terrorism, generally funded through the state apparatus, the police or military, or party-funded through cadres. It pervades socio-culturally through polymorphous hegemonic forms such as culture, language, ideology and, of course, religion, which are used to justify violence. It borders on chauvinistic principles; whether in the case of Italian fascist nationalism, racist nationalism such as Nazism, Muslim religious nationalism of the Middle East, the ethnic nationalism of Turks and Balkans or the more sophisticated British and American war-nationalism, they are all the same in their bloody past.

It is particular weak historical moments that contextually give rise to these forms, much as the defeat and humiliation of Germany in the first world war gave rise to the monster called Adolf Hitler. That is why nationalist politics plays on feelings of resentment and revenge, nurturing deep old wounds in the collective memory of a society, never allowing people to forget their anguish, recalling these wounds repeatedly and viciously. It freezes historical misgivings within a time frame and then refers to these as benchmarks, as if history had never existed before or ceased to exist after that precise incident. It stunts mental development and hampers maturity, and to fool an immature mind is then an easy job. It is very problematic indeed for the growth and development of humanitarian concerns in a free world.

In the case of India, the problem is not with Indian nationalism or pan-Indian identity as such (as long as it maintains a multicultural front), but with the variety of identity politics that is played generally by the ‘saffron brigade’ and particularly by the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) in this case. Their brand of nationalism, about which they shout from high heaven, is essentially a ‘Hindu nationalism’ which is, in fact, communalism garbed in new rhetoric. It rests upon the pillars of intolerance, hate politics, fundamentalism and parochialism, and bears all the aforementioned characteristics of ‘nationalism’. That is to say, while loving one’s country and patriotism is not a choice, ‘nationalism’ is a matter of personal choice in the same way as this is true for political and ideological choices. The point is, a nationalism based on a liberal, flexible, multidimensional and tolerant identity is fine, but its affiliation with the Hindu brand (or any sectarian brand) will prove fatal, just as the unholy collusion of famous Gandhian social worker, Sunderlal Bahuguna, with the BJP in the Tehri Dam agitation has already proved fatal for Indian environmentalism.

Thus while singing Vande Mataram may be an exhilarating experience for many of us, it cannot be the scale by which ‘nationalism’ is gauged. The saffron brigade has time and again come up with various ploys and designs to pose various questions framed in ‘game-theoretical’ situations to the minorities, which is in fact done to rejuvenate their waning influence in their heartlands. My humble advice to them is, perhaps, to talk instead about more humanitarian issues and issues of grave concern. To address issues such as the displacement of inhabitants and devastation in the Narmada valley as a result of the Sardar Sarovar Project, or the ruinous effects of the Pokhran bomb blast, will gain them more votes from unexpected quarters. Had they done so, they might have increased their vote banks more steadily in unexplored territories, for which this kind of narrow and filthy politics is superfluous.