Sputnik in Russian Cultural History

Ethan Pollock

Sputnik sent shockwaves through the United States and around the world, but it did not have to be that way. Rocket scientists on both sides of the Iron Curtain had hoped to launch an artificial satellite at some point during 1957 or 1958 as part of an internationally coordinated programme to study the earth and upper atmosphere. They also knew that the Soviet Union was capable of being the first. When the President of the US National Academy of Sciences sent a congratulatory letter to the head of the Soviet Academy of Sciences, calling Sputnik “a brilliant contribution to the furtherance of science for which scientists everywhere will be grateful”, he was reflecting enthusiasm for what many saw as an international breakthrough, not a particular nation’s chance to gloat. Even the Soviet propaganda machine seems to have played down its significance. Pravda’s announcement of the launch was relatively mild, below the fold, and emphasized basic technical facts. Above the fold? An article titled “Preparation for Winter is an Urgent Task”.

These even-handed assessments of Sputnik’s significance did not take into account the symbolic benefits to the Soviet Union of having beaten the US to the punch. Those who saw Sputnik in the context of Cold War competition, and who played up the military threat posed by the Soviet breakthrough, found a storyline with much greater staying power. The nuclear physicist and weapons designer Edward Teller warned on national television that “The US has lost a battle more important and greater than Pearl Harbor”. Newsweek added that “man’s greatest technological triumph since the atom bomb [has been accomplished by] the controlled scientists of a despotic state”. The Soviet press soon caught the wave. Almost a week after the launch, Pravda declared Sputnik “A Great Victory in the Global Competition with Capitalism”. As the first draft of history, such accounts established a number of claims about Sputnik that have gone practically unchallenged since 1957. Almost all analysts have accepted that Sputnik was an accomplishment of centralized science, of Marxism-Leninism’s technological utopianism, and of an educational system that stressed applied science and practical knowledge in service to the state. Until now.

Asif A. Siddiqi, the foremost scholar of the Soviet space programme writing in English, has set out to revise this history. Taking full advantage of the copious archival and published material made accessible since the 1990s, he argues, in The Red Rockets’ Glare, that Sputnik’s origins must be understood in the context of Russian cultural history and the informal networks of space enthusiasts formed long before 1917. The Cold War was the setting for Sputnik’s launch, but it does little to illuminate its origins. In Siddiqi’s interpretation, fantasy is intertwined with technology, while mysticism and public fascination with space are more central than Marxism. The result is a book that forces a reconsideration not just of Sputnik, but of the broader categories of Soviet science and socialist science that dominated professional scholarship on both sides of the Iron Curtain during much of the Cold War and beyond.

Siddiqi begins by showing the ways in which popular science, science fiction, scientific societies and independent publishers contributed to a large, decentralized preoccupation with space travel and to some key technological breakthroughs. The space fad continued through the 1920s, even though the Soviet state showed no particular interest in the topic. Yakov Perelman and Nikolai Rynin, for instance, published hundreds of easily accessible books and articles on space travel before and after 1917. Their enthusiasm shaped popular interest in the cosmos more than any official ideological endorsement. Siddiqi is particularly strong when untangling the various legends surrounding Konstantin Tsiolkovsky, the “patriarch” of Soviet cosmonautics, who in 1903 mathematically showed that space flight was possible using liquid propellants. According to almost all previous accounts, Tsiolkovsky was ignored until 1917, when the Bolsheviks recognized the importance of his work, honoured him with membership in the Socialist Academy, and then offered him a lifetime pension in 1921. He has stood at the heart of attempts to show that the Soviet state had a far-sighted understanding and natural ideological affinity for space research. But Siddiqi painstakingly and convincingly reveals that despite the outward appearance of official interest, Tsiolkovsky struggled for recognition, received little or no financial support from the State, and even suffered from physical deprivation in the 1920s. In essence, his fanciful and mystical musings made him persona non grata to the established Soviet scientific community; instead, he emerged as a hero in unofficial circles.

For Siddiqi, the significance of what happened in the 1920s – and the importance of Tsiolkovsky for the Soviet space programme – has less to do with technological advance or the establishment of state priorities than with the deep public interest in space reflected and amplified by artists, writers and filmmakers. Siddiqi shows, for example, how Yakov Protazanov’s film Aelita (1924), based on Alexei Tolstoy’s science-fiction novel of the same name, about a trip to Mars, gained great popularity in part for its depiction of the technologies of space travel. At the time, most scientists – and the State – dismissed space flight as the naive fantasies of the uninformed, leaving the field to marginal scientific actors and those with no formal education in the natural sciences. Only in the 1930s, when the Cultural Revolution ushered in official anti-elitism and the search for home-grown Russian heroes, did Tsiolkovsky’s outsider status and autodidactic background make him an ideal candidate for Soviet hagiography. Even then, his scientific contributions were publicly praised but privately denigrated – none of his countless designs for airships was ever built. His more utopian ideas were even more out of step with the Party’s renewed emphasis on practical work and the immediate construction of socialism. Tsiolkovsky became a national hero just as the enthusiasm for space he had helped create fell victim to an expanding state and party. This shift has obscured a point that Siddiqi does not want us to miss: “the modern rocket with its new Communist cosmonaut was conceived as much in a leap of faith as in a reach for reason”.

In the 1930s, space enthusiasts turned their attention to developing rockets using limited funds from a voluntary society. One engineer recalled that when faced with a lack of silver for soldering a rocket combustion chamber, workers brought silver from home – a teaspoon, a thimble, a crucifix – which they melted down for their experiments: a fine example of the construction of socialism through the destruction of the remnants of capitalism. Finally, Sergei Korolev helped convince the State of the potential military applications of their work. At this point, Siddiqi’s attention shifts from popular interest in space to state-supported rocket research, though he maintains his commitment to telling the story from the bottom up. He gives rocket researchers considerable agency, even describing the effect of the Great Terror on this community as “less an act of outside intervention than a self-immolation”. Technical disagreements among researchers did sometimes spill over into political recriminations, but more evidence is required before we can demote the NKVD to a secondary role.

Siddiqi is more convincing in his evaluation of the importance of German rocket expertise, recovered by the USSR after the war, in jump-starting the Soviet rocket programme. He shows that informal networks, set up by Soviet scientists in Germany on their own initiative, were crucial in gaining a firm commitment of support from the highest echelons of the state and party apparatus. By this point, space travel all but disappears from The Red Rockets’ Glare, but Siddiqi assures us that it maintained a “ghostly presence” for researchers. Many of the scientists and engineers, like Korolev and Valentin Glushko, who developed the Soviet ICBM in the post-war period, had been space enthusiasts in the earlier era and had begun their research into rockets with space exploration in mind. The ICBM was developed to deliver atomic weapons, not to launch a satellite. Indeed, in spite of post-facto claims to the contrary, the Soviet state remained uninterested in space exploration until 1954. The breakthrough came when Korolev, Glushko, and Mikhail Tikhonravov lobbied behind the scenes, cultivated renewed popular enthusiasm for space exploration and manipulated international press coverage in order to convince party, military and state officials to allow a satellite programme to coexist with the development of ICBMs. Far from leading the way, the Soviet state emerges from this study as reluctant and lethargically responsive.

At times, Asif Siddiqi tries too hard to place popular enthusiasm for space flight at the centre of the story, asserting rather than demonstrating its direct connection with post-war technical accomplishments. The remarkably innovative and convincing cultural history of the first part of the book gives way to a more traditional history of technology and politics in the second. This is in part because popular organizations and publications had some semblance of independence in the 1920s, but almost none in the 1940s and early 1950s. It is hard to write the State and Party out of the picture when they were practically everywhere.

Ethan Pollock is Associate Professor of History and Slavic Languages, Brown University.

Ousted from your Poplars

 

Jack Mapanje

The Seashells of Bridlington North Beach
(for Mercy Angela)

She hated anything caged, fish particularly,
Fish caged in glass boxes, ponds, whatever;

‘Reminds me of prisons and slavery,’ she said;
So, when first she caught the vast green view

of Bridlington North Beach shimmering that
English Summer day, she greeted the sight like

A Sahara girl on parched feet, cupping, cupping,
Cupping the water madly, laundering her palms,

Giggling and laughing, then rubbing the hands
On her skirt, she threw her bottom on the sandy

Beach and let the sea breathe in and out on her
As she relaxed her crossed legs – ‘Free at last!’

She announced to the beach crowds oblivious;
And as the seascape rallied and vanished at her

Feet, she mapped her world, ‘The Netherlands
We visited must be here; Norway, Sweden there;

Beyond that Russia!’ Then gathering more seashells
And selecting them one by one, she turned

To him, ‘Do you remember eating porridge from
Beach shells once?’ He nodded, smiling at another

Memory of the African lakes they were forced to
Abandon. ‘Someday, perhaps I’ll take that home

To celebrate!’ She said staring into the deep sea.
Today, her egg-like pebbles, her pearls of seashells

Still sparkle at the windowsill; her wishes still ring,
‘Change regularly the water in the receptacles to

Keep the pebbles and seashell shinning – you’ll
See, it’s a lot healthier than feeding caged fish!’

*********************

After Celebrating our Asylum Stories at
West Yorkshire Playhouse, Leeds

So, define her separately,
She is not just another
Castaway washed up your
Rough seas like driftwood,
It’s the nameless battles
Your sages burdened on her
People that broke her back;
Define him differently,
He is not another squirrel
Ousted from your poplars,
It’s the endless cyclones,
Earthquakes, volcanoes,
Floods, mud and dust that
Drafted him here; define
Them warmly, how could
Your economic émigré queue
At your job centres day after
Day? If you must define us
Gently, how do you hope
To see the tales we bear
When you refuse to hear
The whispers we share?

**********************************

Ken Saro-Wiwa’s Pipe Still Puffing (Ten Years On)

Yesterday, I stopped at another
Shell petrol station and recalled how
you’d have loved to puff from your pipe
there, for your Ogoni people and land;
I did not, of course, stop to fill up with
petrol, definitely not! I stopped merely
to have a good pee, as promised I would
when they got you executed. Today, I
thought, well, why don’t we treasure
the moment we once shared?

 ***************************************

Jack Mapanje , from Malawi, currently teaching Creative writing at the University of Newcastle upon Tyne, is the author of 5 collections of poetry, the editor of several more, and the recipient of awards including the Rotterdam Poetry International Award and the African Literature Association (USA) Fonlon-Nichols Award. He studied in England, before returning to Malawi, where he became the Head of Department of English, University of Malawi at Chancellor College, a position  he held until his book Of Chameleons and Gods was banned and he was incarcerated for almost four years as a political prisoner in Mikuyu prison.

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Pranayam Revolution & the Baba

Varuni Bhatia

The Strange Case of Baba Ramdev

A young Yadav lad, the son of a low-income Haryana farmer, grows up in the decade of the seventies, the low-point of Nehruvian socialism. He is put through middle school with considerable financial strain on his family. The young boy goes through impressionable years of his life learning of an India of historical greatness, the dreams and aspirations that history textbooks routinely weave in telling a heroic narrative of the nation’s struggle to come into its own. A picture of Ram Prasad ‘Bismil’ and Subhas Chandra Bose allegedly hang in his room. Perhaps he is taken out of the government school that he attends and sent to a gurukul-type private school for a better education. As an adolescent, this boy continues to be influenced by the kind of ascetic masculinity that had spurred early twentieth-century nation building and anti-colonialism—his heroes from the canon of the freedom movement are militant nationalists such as Ram Prasad ‘Bismil’ and Subhas Chandra Bose, as well as hardliners such as Sardar Patel—not a usual fare of Gandhi-Nehru dominated freedom struggle.

Thirty years hence, a vernacular godman grips the attention of the world, claiming almost-miraculous powers to yoga and Ayurveda. Breath practices and disciplined living, we are told, can sure diseases such as AIDS; allopathic medicine, we are told, is a charade and must be replaced by Ayurveda; yoga is the answer to all problems. This Swami wows recent spate of Indian diaspora in the first world with his ability to contort his body and subject it to seemingly impossible tortures. The nation, on the other hand, already knows him as a familiar figure, waking up with his call to yoga on Aastha channel every morning. The Swami emerges, already famous, having seemingly bypassed the usual route of a gradual rise to popularity. His online hagiographies already show elements of obfuscation. Lack of particulars notwithstanding, we get a picture of a Swami who has not merely risen as a traditional godman pandering to the elites, but a veritable saffron-clad warrior for vernacular democracy who has done an excellent task of guaranteeing himself a core support group amongst lower income, middle classes of the Hindi belt—precisely the same background that he emerged from; a tour de force that differentiates him from other godmen, as we shall see.

Today, this low-income boy who turned into a godman heads an empire of traditional healing practices, that include an Ayurveda university, a traditional healing retreat cum medicine facility, and a yoga retreat (all three near Haridwar); yoga workshops run by trained yoga instructors in various small and large towns of north India; an enormously popular brand ‘Divya Mandir’ of herbal products; a vast internet presence through websites, facebook pages, blogs, and youtube videos; and a sizable and growing support group for his programs both within and outside India. His current worth is estimated at over 1000 crores, and he has successful organizations and centers in various parts of the world especially targeting the Indian diaspora. The Swami’s meteoric rise in popularity and his heady mix of faith-based practices with a program of rejuvenating the nation beg the question as to how is he different from others of his ilk. Purveyors of a new and global Hinduism such as Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, Swami Nityananda, Sathya Sai Baba, Ma Amritanandamayi and so on have also amassed a significant following of celebrities and the general public in recent years. Different he is, and it may be of vital importance for us parse out his ultra-nationalist vision, so as not to confuse him with any other godman or woman who largely seem satisfied with doling out Hindu ecumenism for consumption in the global marketplace of spiritualism.

The key to Ramdev’s success lies in his projection of himself as a rejuvenator of the Indian nation. He is at the helm of a movement (a self-proclaimed andolan, no less) that has turned him from a savvy businessman and traditional healer into the most contemporary face of neo-Swadeshi and neo-Hindutva nationalism in India. Liberal and left-leaning intellectuals and journalists have condemned him for holding the country hostage to an improbable, laughable and socially conservative agenda, drawing attention to fascistic tendencies underlying his programs. Much of the critique, however, reverts to portraying him as a traditional godman and a charlatan, out to con the intellectually-challenged lower middle class Indian populace who have readily abandoned rational thought to pledge support to this mystic.

However, we can no longer ignore a sustained analysis of this contemporary face of Swadeshi socialism and Hindutva culturalism that emerges through the Baba phenomenon. The Baba has been able to cleverly revive and older RSS program based on national pride, majoritarian social justice, and punitively hardline agenda combining it with a savvy use of a keen business-sense, new media practices, and located as its enemy a well-honed notion of corruption, both moral and financial. He has also been able to tap into older RSS networks, which the BJP had alienated in its projection of a ‘Shining’ India, and from where he derives the core of his popular support. As the face of India’s neo-Hindutva movement, the Baba phenomenon is significant enough to merit a sustained analysis of the discursive and operational networks. What is even more remarkable is that these networks have arisen in less than a decade. The Baba may not be a mere passing fad or a momentary fancy, but a new player on the India’s Hindu rightwing spectrum, so any ignorance about his organizational network and capacities will be at our own peril.

Structure of a ‘Revolution’: Unpacking Corporate Neo-Swadeshi

Underlying Baba Ramdev’s anti-graft movement is a program of Swadeshi economic reform. It is worth considering his network of organizations to see the kind of Swadeshi that is being imagined there. Baba Ramdev’s umbrella organization is called the Divya Yog Mandir, or the Patanjali Yog Peeth, and it is headquartered in Haridwar. The Yog Peeth claims a hoary origin, as an extension of the Kripalu Bagh Ashram established in 1932 by Acharya Kripalu Dev and Swami Shraddhananda of the Arya Samaj in Hardwar. In 1995, the Divya Yog Mandir, also known as the Patanjali Yog Peeth (hereafter, PYP), was established, and in 2006, a star-studded inauguration of the current building of the Yog Peeth was done by the then Vice-President of India, Bhairon Singh Shekhawat. A documentary on PYP found on its website notes that Chief Ministers of 17 states attended the ceremony including N. D. Tiwari, Sheila Dixit, Lalu Prasad Yadav, and Nitish Kumar. Run as a combination of yoga retreat, traditional healing research center, nationalist camp, and spiritual vacation, the PYP offers medicinal, religious, and recreational services. The Yog Peeth sponsors a range of activities that are aimed at a wide cross-section of Indian population, both at home and in the diaspora. Within India, the network of institutions supported by the PYP consists of “Campuses” and “Undertakings and Departments”. Three main campuses are listed on the website. Although this list is by no means exhaustive and does not mention the physical and virtual ‘campuses’ outside of Haridwar, it is nonetheless informative of the range of core activities carried out by PYP:

1. Patanjali Yog Peeth II: This is a campus on 35 acres of land, where “Yoga Science residential camps” are held with the Baba.

 2. Yog Gram: “An eco-friendly place equipped with modern amenities amidst breathtaking beauty of Nature,” according to PYP website description. However, the website of Yog Gram shows it to be a medical center imparting traditional healing. Those suffering from medical ailments are given preference in admittance, although visitors are allowed to visit and stay. Rates of residence vary from Rs. 1,000 per day to Rs. 3,000 per day, with a minimum stay of 7 days and a maximum stay of 50 days allowed.

3. Patanjali Herbal Garden and Agro Research Department: A greenhouse where medicinal herbs are kept and preserved for research.

Apart from Campuses that serve the purpose of elite getaways combined with traditional forms of healing, the PYP also sponsors wide-reaching programs that are aimed for the public at large. Categorized as “Undertakings and Departments,” these consist of the following activities:

1. Conducting yoga camps, residential and non-residential, across the globe.

 2. Making use of television to popularize yoga on an everyday basis.

3. Establishing “Patanjali Yog Samitis” at state, district, tehsil, and village levels.

4. Establishing an accredited University for teaching and research in Ayurveda.

The PYP runs branch institutes and yoga centers both within and outside India. One such branch was opened in Nepal last year with full support of the Nepali government. Another has recently opened in Wee Cumbria, a Scottish island worth 3.3 million pounds, donated by Mrs. Sunita Poddar—Ramdev supporter and an activist of alternate medicine in the UK.

Even while Baba’s popular and public persona claims fundamental democratic transformations, it will be clear from examining his own organizations that he sits at the helm of a practically oligarchic structure based upon income and wealth. Membership of the Yog Peeth Trust (hereafter PYT), the Yog Peeth’s main policymaking body, is based upon monetary donations. Four kinds of members of the trust—Corporate, Founder, Patron, and Life—deliberate over policy matters. These members must pay, on a sliding scale, a minimum of 11 lakhs, 5 lakhs, 2 lakhs 50 thousand, and 1 lakh to gain membership. Apart from the above, PYT membership also contains Dignified members who pay 51,000, Respected members who pay 21,000; and General members who pay 11,000 rupees. These members can attend meetings but ordinarily have no say in policy decisions. Despite much online searching, I was unable to locate the names of the trustees of the YPT.

 At the helm of Baba’s hydra-like corporate and ideological empire is a triad of trusts: The Yog Peeth Trust, the Bharat Swabhiman Trust, and the Yog Gram. All three are run out of the same office, suggesting an underlying administrative overlap between these three organizations. The Bharat Swabhiman Trust (hereafter BST) is the main ideological and perhaps even financial sponsor of the popular movement, the Bharat Swabhiman Andolan. The BST has a password protected website that I was unable to access. Membership criterion is the same as that for Patanjali Yog Peeth: beginning with 11 lakhs at the Corporate (highest) level, and 1 lakh at the level of the Life member. Thereafter, it changes: a Special member pays 1,100 rupees, and a worker member pays a mere 51. One could also, potentially, become a general member with no payment at all. Policy matters, however, are decided only by Corporate and Founder Members who are “invited on special occassions (sic) and important meetings including policy making meetings of institution from time to time.” General and worker members of the BST seem to operate as grassroots-level volunteers imparting training in yoga and nationalism. The BST itself provides them with special training in “yog-dharma” and “rashtra-dharma,” thereby preparing them for their role as grassroots workers and volunteers. Such training is imparted in weeklong camps and is offered as a special perk to those who decide to take general membership of the Trust. It is a paradoxical situation, indeed: the main purpose of the Trust, bodily discipline and nation building, are handed out as special privileges to its ordinary members.

Swadeshi Socialism and Glocal India: Postcolonial Uses of Anti-colonial Discourse

As an indication of its program for nation-building, the BSA website promises the following: creating a healthy and prosperous India; forging a disciplined (yog-may) India; making India self-dependent through Swadeshi; and (guaranteeing) 100% voter turnout. This kind of neo-nationalist discourse, very interestingly, builds upon a well-rehearsed anti-colonial nationalism from the twenties to the forties of the last century. This appropriation and repackaging of the discourse of nation building from within anti-colonialism should not be overlooked as it plays a key role in providing a familiar aesthetic content to this neo-conservative, 21st-century patriotism. Terms such as Swadeshi and Swabhiman Andolan hark back to self-sustainment and self-respect movements from the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. The terms are also reminiscent of the Independence Movement (called Swadhinata Andolan in Hindi history textbooks). Not unlike the former, this ‘andolan’ too is purportedly based upon Satyagraha, or Gandhian Civil Disobedience. To pledge support to the Swabhiman Andolan, you are asked to give a missed call to a mobile number. This is, in itself, a testimony to the fascinating use of new technology (cell phones) and popular practices (missed calls). Reportedly, 60 lakh calls had already been made to this number by June 5, 2011.

The Baba is not beyond performing an andolan, replete with injustices, police brutalities, attempted escapes in disguise, and (most importantly) a discourse of martyrdom. In this regard, the Indian government’s brutal crackdown on the fasting Baba and his supporters at Ramlila grounds has only served to buttress a narrative of comparing the postcolonial state to a colonial government. Not surprisingly, Bharat Swabhiman Andolan’s facebook update after police action reads, “the government today has repeated the Jalliawaala Bagh in a democratic country.” In almost hourly updates since then, videos of police action are uploaded, and the event constantly compared to the atrocities levied by colonial authorities on the hapless and struggling non-violent freedom fighters. The deployment of anti-colonial discourse against a postcolonial state is an important aspect of the Baba’s political maneuvering and marks a significant, though unnoticed, shift in ultra-nationalist discourse in India—from the outright communal language of Hindutva ideologues to a seemingly non-communal discourse preferred by the Baba.

 The enemy in Baba’s invective can be mapped on grounds of corruption—moral, physical, and national. In this Swadeshi vision, a notional ‘West’ appears as the harbinger of these corruptions, whether it is black money stashed away in foreign banks, or practicing sex for pleasure, or even drinking aerated beverages such as Coca Cola. The Baba has strongly condemned each of these at one point or the other in recent times. The West is understood culturally, not geographically. It is a place of excesses and consumption—financial, sexual, and dietary. A patriotic Indian is, thus, a thoroughly indigenous individual, proud of their culture, and performatively non-western in thought and habit. It is not necessary that such an Indian occupy the geographical territory of the nation-state of India. The body politic of a Swabhiman Bharat is portrayed as a glocal concept, embracing the rustic Indian village as much as the non-cosmopolitan diasporic subject.

 A form of Swadeshi socialism characterizes Baba Ramdev’s vision. His more bizarre demands ask for a replacement of “British-inherited system of governance, administration, taxation, education, law and order with a swadeshi alternative.” In addition and more interestingly, the Baba also wishes to see the abolishment of the Land Acquisitions Act and has demanded standard wages for laborers all over the country. In a remarkable manifesto titled Rashtradharm, available at http://www.rashtradharm.com/, the Baba’s neo-Swadeshi discourse emerges most clearly. The riches of the nation are listed in terms of its natural resources and the manpower that harnesses these resources. Greedy corporatism and corrupt politicians allow the former to be exploited at the cost of livelihoods of millions of latter. A discourse of exploitation is hereby vernacularized, made familiar to a Hindi speaking, lower middle class support base.

 This increasing section of the Indian population has come to age by rote memorization of textbook narratives of the Indian freedom movement that held the promise of a new and egalitarian India. Baba’s agenda for change builds upon the disappointment of that textbook narrative and translates the disappointment into a vernacular idiom. As popular ultra-nationalisms go, this one too is a dangerous mix of Swadeshi socialism and saffron fascism. We see that this is not a liberal or market-driven economic agenda but one that is specifically aimed at enlarging the scope and responsibility of a culturally defined State. In the process, this non-liberally constituted nation-state is potentially given a vast array of powers and responsibilities.

Healing the Body Politic: Discipline, Corruption, and the Nation

In the Baba’s ideological expressions, we find some of the clearest articulations of the somatic idea of the nation whose health needs to be constantly monitored. Discourses about body, health, and the nation abound in this vision of a rejuvenated future. ‘India’ is understood as an aesthetic and ethical corpus that must be actively forged through ‘yog-dharm’ (discipline) and ‘rashtra-dharm’ (patriotism) of its citizens. This, in turn, is deemed capable of affecting a ‘Pranayam Revolution’ (Revolution of Breath Control)—a vernacular and bourgeois translation of the concept of Total Revolution and the transformative capacities therein. This is a revolution against corruption and westernization, and the restitution of middle-class values of work, family, culture, and sexuality. This is a socialism of the petit bourgeoisie—an economic agenda of rejuvenation by reclaiming mines, military, and black money as national resources combined with cultural agenda of rejuvenation by reviving Brahmanical social practices such as the varna and ashrama system.

Once forged, this body politic needs to be carefully guarded against diseases as varied as black money to homosexuality. The school, the university, the prison, the family, and the village hence emerge as key sites in this program of discipline. At the heart of the Pranayam Revolution lies a rigorously rational, biological, and non-salvific reworking of yoga and Ayurveda. These traditional practices of healing and spiritual exertion are thereby made available to an ultra-nationalist cause.

Unlike other twentieth century godpersons, this Baba rationalizes relentlessly. There is not a whisper of the mystical, the irrational, or the miraculous in his discourse, whether on the health of the human body or the national body. The claim is relentlessly one of science. Yoga and Ayurveda have a scientific basis, it is rigorously emphasized. Not unlike a Latourean constitution of the laboratory in early modern Europe, science in the context of the Pranayam Revolution emerges within a network of institutions and discourses—the Ayurveda University, the Patanjali Yog Peeth, centers of Ayurvedic healing in India and abroad, international forums of non-western healing, and a repackaged neo-Swadeshi for India. This insistence on science is combined with a robust negation of the mystical and the transcendental—arguably key concerns for any religious phenomenon.

 In his insistence upon science and rationality at the service of the nation, Baba Ramdev represents a contemporary face of the Arya Samaj and similarities between him and Dayananda Saraswati are worth noting. Both are vernacular-speaking sadhus who emerge rather suddenly on the scene of contemporary public life and rose rapidly in popularity. Both rigorously insist scientific basis to certain kinds of Hindu traditions and practices. Both vigorously argue against catholicity within religions—ritual, miracles, ecclesiastical authority, and so on. There is one difference between the two, though, and this has to do with their conception of the ‘Other.’ Dayananda’s invective clearly targeted non-Hindus, particularly Muslims and Christians. His writings are replete with crass insults to Islam and Christianity. In Baba Ramdev’s nationalist invective, we see a somewhat different articulation of the enemy that must be vanquished. This enemy is now understood simply as Corruption.

While the current face of Corruption is the anti-graft movement, in the larger ideological framework of the Baba’s movement, corruption includes all kinds of afflictions to the body of the nation. The Baba’s critique of the current Indian state for compromising the Indian nation is far-reaching, and at times reminds one of the more radical leftist discourse on Independence as nothing more than a transfer of power from the British to the westernized Indian elites. Corruption is given an extremely wide definition. It is “not merely a social problem but a distilled form of a political problem.” Corruption, beyond graft, is understood as a variety of morally repugnant activities, including quotidian forms such as tardiness, avoiding hard work, accepting bribes, dowry, and so on. More extreme forms of corruption include a failure to provide adequate security to the citizens of India and dealings in black money. The political system is held responsible for latter forms of corruption, while the society at large is held responsible for the earlier forms of corruption. The cure, as the manifesto states, is “character building…Therefore, parents should impart high values to their children from a tender age, and spiritual and cultural values must be assimilated in the education system to cause a visible overhaul of its social foundations.”

 Corruption, this nativist vision claims, can be cured by discipline and punishment. Harsh laws and punitive measures, including a death penalty, are demanded by the Baba for those held guilty of financial corruption. The key to nipping it in the bud, however, is bodily and mental discipline introduced at a tender age. Yog, it is asserted, not only rejuvenates the individual body like “a cell-phone charger,” but also revives the nation. “Individual and the nation are afflicted with a number of diseases, sorrows, thoughts, and evils. Yog-seva is the cure to all of them.” Yog includes bodily discipline such as breathing and dietary practices, as well as moral discipline such as hard work and truthfulness. A clear program of national rejuvenation based upon Hindu cultural nationalism thus is put in place.

There is no doubt that this is ultra-nationalist disciplinary aesthetic at its most sophisticated within a contemporary Indian context—the new face of the Hindutva program. Not unlike its earlier manifestation, here too the individual, the family, the village, the state, the diaspora, and the nation are organically related to each other. The moral and physical health of each one of these units has a bearing upon the other, and therefore needs to be carefully regulated through everyday discipline and, if need be, surgical removal. Outright communalism, however, is toned down and replaced by a majoritarian, culturalist ethos, bringing a somewhat new tone to earlier forms of Hindutva discourse.

Baba and the Gathering Clouds of Neo-Hindutva: Politics of the Apolitical

Whether Baba Ramdev emerges fully as a political actor will depend not merely on the success of his anti-corruption movement, but upon a variety of other factors, many of which are already beginning to be put into place. This includes the support he receives from the beleaguered BJP, now searching for a new populist agenda, and the manner in which organized Hindutva forces of the Sangh Parivar court the Baba. Despite all the political shenanigans taking place around the Baba in recent days, a cursory glance at readers’ responses to articles and blogs, as well as the general opinion caught on television cameras, suggest that much of the popular support for Baba’s anti-corruption fast comes from sections of the society that firmly believe his anti-corruption campaign to be non-political, aimed at a general rejuvenation of the nation. While anti-Congress sentiment undoubtedly runs high in these responses, the predominant sentiment is that this is a cause that extends beyond party lines and touches each citizen of the country, irrespective of their political affiliations.

This is clearly the politics of the apolitical. The burgeoning Indian middle-class likes to pretend that it is supporting a non-partisan cause that impacts the entire population. This has been the case with earlier Hindutva mobilizations where you were considered a good Indian only if you supported the correction of a historical wrong. More recently, the platform of the apolitical has emerged as a dangerous ground where the clouds of popular fascisms gather in a language of liberal protest. In many ways, the yoga camp at Ramlila grounds is a vernacular and mass extension of a vigilante society combined with notions of crowd justice. Take away the English, the cosmopolitanism, and the token liberalism from citizen journalists and candlelight vigils, and we have in place a much larger populist phenomenon such as the Baba and his yog-dharm. A deep mistrust of the political and judicial process characterizes both.

 The Baba himself, however, will remain a flashpoint on the political spectrum unless he categorically join hands with the existing forces of Hindutva. He has personal good relations with many of them and allegations that his anti-corruption movement is organized by the RSS have been flying around. However, his brand of Swadeshi socialism will hardly endear him to proponents of economically neo-liberal agenda within the BJP. His occasional ecumenism—the Baba once famously reportedly that one need not utter Om while performing yoga and saying Allah would be just as effective—can make him an uncomfortable ally for the religious rightwing to support. And his vernacular idiom and social conservatism has already alienated him to a certain yuppie constituency that no political party can entirely dismiss. It waits to be seen whether this apolitical political agenda of national rejuvenation and Swadeshi socialism will translate into electoral successes. No doubt, the BJP is wondering the same. For now, however, they and the Sangh Parivar are happy to ride the popular bandwagon of Baba Ramdev’s yogic cures of the nation’s afflictions.

Varuni Bhatia is Assistant Professor, Centre for South Asian Studies, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.

[1] http://www.divyayoga.com/introduction/histroy.html. Accessed June 3, 2011.

 [1] Vide documentary on PYP, available at http://www.divyayoga.com/documentry-on-pyp.html. Accessed on June 6, 2011. See also http://haryanainstitutes.com/a215260-swami-ramdevs-patanjali-yogpeeth-inagurated-by.cfm. Accessed on June 6, 2011.

 [1] For information about their activities, check http://www.divyayoga.com/divya-yog-mandir/a-campuses/pantanjali-yogpeeth-i.html. Accessed on June 3, 2011.

 [1] Vide http://www.divyayoga.com/divya-yog-mandir.html. Accessed on June 6, 2011.

 [1] Vide http://yoggram.divyayoga.com/how-to-get-registration.html. Accessed on June 3, 2011.

 [1] http://www.pranapositive.com/shm/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=15&Itemid=15. Accessed on June 6, 2011. The Poddar family has been a key financial supporter of the Baba’s organization and endeavors. On one occasion, they also defrayed the cost of all those traveling to Hardwar to attend one of the Baba’s many Yog camps. This camp was meant for training young teachers who would teach yoga in the country and abroad.

 [1] http://bstdonation.divyayoga.com/

 [1] Ibid. See also, http://bharat-swabhiman.com/en/. Accessed June 6, 2011.

 [1] https://www.facebook.com/bharatswabhimantrust. Accessed on June 5, 2011.

 [1] http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/article2071609.ece. Accessed on June 5, 2011.

 [1] Vide, http://www.rashtradharm.com/. Accessed June 7, 2011.

 [1] http://www.rashtradharm.com/

 

Gil Scott-Heron (1949-2011)

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o’clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back after a message
bbout a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver’s seat.

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.

Poet and spoken word musician Gil Scott-Heron passed away on Friday, May 27, 2011 at the age of 62. Scott-Heron, a classical rapper,  is most widely known for his 1970 poem/song, ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.”