In the last five weeks, two stories about the Northeast made interesting reading since they were published in mainland Indian media. The first appeared in Tehelka, Vol. 8 (32), of August 13, 2011 by Jimi Dey Gabriel entitled “Wages of War”. It dealt with the shadow economy in Nagaland, where different armed opposition groups are engaged in taxation of goods and services, where the writer rues the fact that the Indian state is unable to control the parallel economy in the Northeast. The second article appeared in the English daily, The Telegraph, of September 5, 2011 entitled “Irom Speaks up on Romance”, by Nishit Dholabhai, about the fact that Manipur’s iconic symbol against the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act (AFSPA), is perhaps seeing someone against the wishes of some people who are close to her. In both cases, the stories are tendentious and written in a manner that raises questions about the author’s intentions, as much as the issues that they write about. Both beg the question about the stories and their intended audience.
Every school child in Nagaland (for that matter, Northeast India) is aware of what it means to have a shadow economy and to pay “taxes” to authorities other than the Indian state. Throughout history, taxation has been a matter of concern for societies and states. The connection between providing security to those who pay tribute and tax to a higher authority has been at the forefront of state-making efforts. The Han Emperors of ancient China had a method of reproducing their state by taxing the peasants through a body of officials, or mandarins. The officials knew each and every peasant in the villages from whom they were supposed to collect taxes. The ancient Roman Empire was built on a connection between an extensive army and wealth that was created through tribute, slavery and private property. Modern democracies today, have evolved a sophisticated system of tax collection from citizens that is removed from the state’s other functions of coercion, policing and militarisation. The article refers to none of this but raises questions about the kind of taxes that traders pay for doing business in Nagaland. It also invokes the opinion of local entrepreneurs who express their impatience for armed opposition groups, implying instead that they would like a stronger, more coercive response from the state in order to curb the activities of the so-called underground. The Tehelka story merely reiterates the obvious that citizens pay taxes to higher authority, without going into any discussion on the issue of the state’s complicity on the militarisation of Naga territory and the growth of parallel authorities.
Similarly, the story about Irom Sharmila being in love with someone, despite social opposition, is something that most people in Imphal were aware of several months ago. Sharmila has been demonstrating against militarisation in the starkest manner possible, by denying herself of food and water for the past ten years. Such an epic struggle has the overall support of civil society, not only in Imphal but also across the Northeast region. Hence, it is expected that this kind of support elicit a higher order of expectations from Sharmila by those who identify with her struggle. Perhaps this is unfair but it is not surprising at all. The kind of reactions attributed to her supporters and family members in the story, seem to imply that she is being forced to do things that she would rather not do by people around her. The story has managed to drive an embarrassing wedge between her close supporters and others who extend solidarity to her struggle. Expectedly, civic organisations in Imphal are irked by the tone of the article, though their reactions are far from being measured and only add to the obfuscation of the issue that began with the filing of the story. One would do well to remember that the event in question happened several months ago and Sharmila has not faltered from her fast since then. In the debate on free will and social coercion, one tends to get distracted from the issue of AFSPA and militarisation of Northeast India.
Both “breaking” stories mentioned above seem to be attempts to cast aside the issue, while reporting the story. In doing so, they are symptomatic of reportage that needs to move away from their proximity to power.
Every school child in Nagaland (for that matter, Northeast India) is aware of what it means to have a shadow economy and to pay “taxes” to authorities other than the Indian state. Throughout history, taxation has been a matter of concern for societies and states. The connection between providing security to those who pay tribute and tax to a higher authority has been at the forefront of state-making efforts. The Han Emperors of ancient China had a method of reproducing their state by taxing the peasants through a body of officials, or mandarins. The officials knew each and every peasant in the villages from whom they were supposed to collect taxes. The ancient Roman Empire was built on a connection between an extensive army and wealth that was created through tribute, slavery and private property. Modern democracies today, have evolved a sophisticated system of tax collection from citizens that is removed from the state’s other functions of coercion, policing and militarisation. The article refers to none of this but raises questions about the kind of taxes that traders pay for doing business in Nagaland. It also invokes the opinion of local entrepreneurs who express their impatience for armed opposition groups, implying instead that they would like a stronger, more coercive response from the state in order to curb the activities of the so-called underground. The Tehelka story merely reiterates the obvious that citizens pay taxes to higher authority, without going into any discussion on the issue of the state’s complicity on the militarisation of Naga territory and the growth of parallel authorities.
Similarly, the story about Irom Sharmila being in love with someone, despite social opposition, is something that most people in Imphal were aware of several months ago. Sharmila has been demonstrating against militarisation in the starkest manner possible, by denying herself of food and water for the past ten years. Such an epic struggle has the overall support of civil society, not only in Imphal but also across the Northeast region. Hence, it is expected that this kind of support elicit a higher order of expectations from Sharmila by those who identify with her struggle. Perhaps this is unfair but it is not surprising at all. The kind of reactions attributed to her supporters and family members in the story, seem to imply that she is being forced to do things that she would rather not do by people around her. The story has managed to drive an embarrassing wedge between her close supporters and others who extend solidarity to her struggle. Expectedly, civic organisations in Imphal are irked by the tone of the article, though their reactions are far from being measured and only add to the obfuscation of the issue that began with the filing of the story. One would do well to remember that the event in question happened several months ago and Sharmila has not faltered from her fast since then. In the debate on free will and social coercion, one tends to get distracted from the issue of AFSPA and militarisation of Northeast India.
Both “breaking” stories mentioned above seem to be attempts to cast aside the issue, while reporting the story. In doing so, they are symptomatic of reportage that needs to move away from their proximity to power.
Sanjay (Xonzoi) Barbora
xonzoi.barbora@gmail.com
