Pankaj Mishra
began as an essayist in the early 1990s after moving to a Himalayan village in
northern India, where he read prolifically and contributed essays to a number
of Indian magazines. By the end of the decade, he was writing regularly for The
New York Review of Books and other publications, often providing an unsparing
look at the legacy of colonial rule in Asia by unpacking the myriad ways in
which Western interests continued to penetrate former possessions. His widely
acclaimed 2012 book, From the Ruins of Empire: The Intellectuals Who Remade
Asia, told the history of imperialism from the point of view of those subjected
to its power, while his most recent offering, Age of Anger: A History of the
Present (2017), which explores the foundations of violent nationalism and other
ideologies, was long-listed for the 2018 Orwell Prize.
FRANCIS WADE:
You have emerged as a prominent critic of empire and its foundations in liberal
ideas of freedom and progress. Can you outline how your thinking has evolved,
from your early writings on the topic to the present, and describe the major
events that either reinforced or altered your position?
PANKAJ
MISHRA: I know from experience that it is very easy for a brown-skinned Indian
writer to be caricatured as a knee-jerk
anti-American/anti-Westernist/Third-Worldist/angry postcolonial, and it is
important then to point out that my understanding of modern imperialism and
liberalism — like that of many people with my background — is actually grounded
in an experience of Indian political realities.
In my own
case, it was a journalistic assignment in Kashmir that advanced my political
and intellectual education. I went there in 1999 with many of the prejudices of
the liberal Indian “civilizer” — someone who simply assumed that Kashmiri
Muslims were much better off being aligned with “secular,” “liberal,” and
“democratic” India than with Pakistan because the former was better placed to
advance freedom and progress for all its citizens. In other words, India had a
civilizing mission: it had to show Kashmir’s overwhelmingly religious Muslims
the light of secular reason — by force, if necessary. The brutal realities of
India’s military occupation of Kashmir and the blatant falsehoods and
deceptions that accompanied it forced me to revisit many of the old critiques
of Western imperialism and its rhetoric of progress. When my critical articles
on Kashmir — very long; nearly 25,000 words — appeared in 2000 in The Hindu and
The New York Review of Books, their most vociferous critics were self-declared
Indian liberals who loathed the idea that the supposedly secular and democratic
Indian republic, which prided itself on its hard-won freedom from Western
imperialism, could itself be a cruel imperialist regime.
Writing about
Kashmir was a strange and painfully isolating experience, but an absolutely
crucial one. It made me see that, whether you are Indian or American, black,
brown, or white, it is best not to get morally intoxicated by words like
“secularism” and “liberalism” or to simply assume that you stand on the right
side of history after having professed allegiance to certain ideological
verities. Rather one should try to perceive the scramble for power, the clash
of interests, that these resonant claims to virtue conceal; one should ask who
is using words like “secularism” or “liberalism” and for what purposes.
The mendacity
and hypocrisy of Indian liberals and even some leftists about Kashmir made me
better prepared for the liberal internationalists who helped adorn the Bush administration’s
pre-emptive assault on Iraq with the kind of humanitarian rhetoric about
freedom, democracy, and progress that we originally heard from European
imperialists in the 19th century. It was this experience in Kashmir that
eventually led me to examine figures like Niall Ferguson, who tried to persuade
Anglo-Americans that the occupation and subjugation of other people’s territory
and culture was a wonderful instrument of civilization and that we need more
such emancipatory imperialism to bring native peoples in line with the advanced
West.
FW : “Liberal
modernity,” you’ve argued, “has prepared the ground for its destruction” by
unleashing forces that are “uncontrollable.” Have these forces contributed to
the resurgence of the right in countries where, thanks to modern liberalism, a
premium is placed on the autonomy of the individual?
PM : There
are many ways to answer this question, and one’s choice will inevitably be
determined by the political context of the day. There is no doubt that the
individual freedoms central to liberalism ought to be cherished and protected.
The question is how, and by whom? Are many self-declared liberals the best
defenders of individual liberties? As it happens, many powerful and influential
people who call themselves liberals are mostly interested in advancing their
professional ambitions and financial interests while claiming the moral
prestige of progressivism for themselves. They are best seen as opportunistic
seekers of power, and they exist in India as much as in the United States and
in Britain. Bush’s “useful idiots” (Tony Judt’s term) had their counterparts in
India, where some liberals chose to see Prime Minister Modi as a great
“modernizer.” They are happy to whisper advice to power, and they recoil from
the latter only when power rejects or humiliates them — as in the case of Trump
and Modi, who have no time for eggheads in general. The dethroned “liberal”
then transforms himself into a maquisard of the “resistance” and prepares the
ground for a Restoration where he’ll likely be hailed as a great hero. It’s a
nice racket, if you can get into it.
As Trumpism
and other authoritarianisms become powerful, their liberal critics engage in a
kind of moral blackmail based on a spurious history: “Are you against the
‘liberal order’ which guaranteed peace and stability, and other wonderful
things for so long?” The obvious answer is that your much-cherished liberal
order was the incubator for Trumpism and other authoritarianisms. It made human
beings subordinate to the market, replacing social bonds with market relations
and sanctifying greed. It propagated an ethos of individual autonomy and
personal responsibility, while the exigencies of the market made it impossible
for people to save and plan for the future. It burdened people with chronic
debt and turned them into gamblers in the stock market. Liberal capitalism was
supposed to foster a universal middle class and encourage bourgeois values of
sobriety and prudence and democratic virtues of accountability. It achieved the
opposite: the creation of a precariat with no clear long-term prospects,
dangerously vulnerable to demagogues promising them the moon. Uncontrolled
liberalism, in other words, prepares the grounds for its own demise.
FW : Weren’t
liberal ideas of freedom and progress, as far back as the 19th century, being
explicitly pressed into the service of racialized science, with its demarcation
of “civilized” and “non-civilized” peoples?
PM : Yes,
liberalism as an ideology of the propertied white men comes into being together
with institutionalized hierarchies of race and class and bogus distinctions
between civilized and uncivilized peoples. It was clear, from John Stuart Mill
as well as Thomas Jefferson, that individual rights and universal reason were the
prerogatives of a tiny minority — settler colonialists who expanded and
indulged their freedom at the expense of other people. Their victims, nonwhite
peoples, were pointing out these fatal contradictions in the rhetoric of
liberalism as early as the 19th century.
Today, of
course, the question of liberalism’s relationship with imperialism — whether
the former is contingent on the morally tainted successes of the latter and
therefore tends to weaken when the empires totter — has become particularly urgent
as non-Western powers emerge and an endless economic and political crisis
forces Western liberal democracies to expose their racial and inegalitarian
structures, their leaders resorting to explicit appeals to white supremacism. I
wrote in 2015, in a survey of liberalism’s record in the non-Western world,
that “liberalism” has come to be seen “as an unaffordable plaything of rich
Westerners: the elevation into universal values of codes that long favoured a
tiny minority, and are unlikely to survive the rise of everyone else.”
In this
regard, one doesn’t need to draw upon the tradition of Asian and African
thinkers. Listen to Max Weber in 1906:
“The question is: how are freedom and
democracy in the long run at all possible under the domination of highly
developed capitalism? […] The historical origin of modern freedom has had
certain unique preconditions which will never repeat themselves. Let us
enumerate the most important of these. First, the overseas expansions. In the
armies of Cromwell, in the French constituent assembly, in our whole economic
life even today, this breeze from across the ocean is felt […] but there is no
new continent at our disposal.”
FW :
The Nigerian
scholar Biodun Jeyifo has lamented the state of “arrested decolonization” in
which many former colonies find themselves, whereby a native elite has
furthered the imperial project by abetting Western economic expansionism. Did
the arrival of liberal capitalism not end imperialism but rather extend it —
perhaps in a quieter, more insidious way?
PM :
The
postcolonial experience is a very complex one. The political movements against
capitalist imperialism in Asia and Africa were often led by elites
intellectually and emotionally shaped by the ideologies and epistemologies of
their masters. At their most antagonistic and hubristic, they wanted to beat
the West at its own game. Others wanted to survive in a world made by the West.
They were all in a hurry to modernize, industrialize, urbanize, and somehow
catch up with the Western powers that seemed to have taken such a long lead
over their countries.
The problem
for nearly all of these leaders was the meager resources and often the state of
devastation they started out with. Decades, if not centuries, of exploitation has
left them in a very poor state. Their social systems had ossified; intellectual
life had dwindled. The materials to build a coherent nation-state were often
missing. And then the first generation of postcolonial leaders could not,
despite their best attempts, shake off their economic dependence on the West —
something created by imperialism’s division of the world into center and
periphery. Most of them saw virtue in socialism and a strong state control of
the economy; hardly anyone in Asia and Africa was enamored of capitalism after
the experience of the Depression. By the 1980s, however, decolonization had run
into trouble. The structural political and economic problems of many Asian and
African societies had become even bigger. At that point, the collapse of
communist states brought an unexpected bonanza to Western intellectuals and
policy-makers who had for years been arguing for the free flow of capital and
goods and railing against the protectionist economies of Asia and Africa. And
they were of course helped by a new generation of ruling classes who were ready
to embrace the American dream of free markets and private enterprise.
We still need
a sociology of these new elites — their connections to the US and Europe
through networks of colleges, universities, think tanks, NGOs, foundations, and
fellowships, and their ideological indoctrination at various institutions.
Anecdotally, I can confirm that in India a whole new American-educated — or
America-philic — class emerged to argue for untrammeled markets and to
institutionalize their ideas. They often called themselves liberal, but they
were also to be found on the Hindu right, and the traffic between the two camps
was brisk.
FW :
Embedded in
your critique of liberalism is a deep skepticism of contemporary human rights
discourse and its links to a liberal free-market agenda. Are the two wholly at
odds, and why does the former so often champion the latter?
PM :
Well, if you
have lived in an Asian or African country and are knowledgeable about the history
of imperialism, then you are reflexively suspicious of any kind of moralizing
discourse about individual rights emanating from powerful countries. Let’s not
forget that the French and the British were presenting themselves, as early as
the 19th century, as protectors of women’s rights in barbaric nations. The
rhetoric of free trade and free markets was very much part of a larger
discourse of emancipating the individual.
In our own
time, this discourse has been very useful in not only sanctioning old-style
imperialist campaigns (tiresomely disguised, as before, as humanitarian
interventions) but also in supplanting the aspirations for justice and equality
between and within nations. Many people, especially Samuel Moyn, have argued
rigorously and eloquently about the tendency to make a fetish of human rights
while limiting its scope of operation to gross abuses by the state, using it to
violate the hard-won sovereignty of nations, and giving a free pass to
structural forms of violence, such as historically entrenched racial inequality
or the inequality perpetuated by global capitalism. In that sense, it was too
easy for political and corporate interests to champion human rights: it was a
cause that did not challenge their power and influence; in many ways, it
preserved them.
FW :
You say that
economic inequality has been given a free pass by human rights advocates, but
does that erase some of the agency at work here? Has it indeed been willfully
neglected?
PM :
Yes, I don’t
think inequality was a paramount issue until quite recently, when its
politically calamitous consequences began to unfold. We were told, whether in
India or the United States, that it is more important to make the economy grow
and generate wealth, which will eventually trickle down, than to address
substantive issues of inequality, how it comes about, how it perpetuates
itself, what we can do to alleviate it.
One of the
main cheerleaders of India’s economic liberalization was a deeply networked
Indian American of the kind I mentioned earlier: a Columbia University
economist and fellow of the Council for Foreign Relations named Jagdish
Bhagwati. Bhagwati, who claimed to be the “world’s foremost free trader,” was
as cozy with Modi as he was with the previous, more secular Indian prime
minister. This man not only blatantly denied that there had been an increase in
inequality or that India was turning into an oligarchy; he not only mocked
people like Amartya Sen, who exposed inequality, as a wannabe Rosa Parks; he
said that inequality is actually a good thing if you have mobility and that the
poor tend to “celebrate” it. Arguing for less protections for labor, he upheld
Bangladesh as an example that allows “firms to hire and fire workers under
reasonable conditions and maintain a balance between the rights of both workers
and employers.” This was after the collapse in April 2013 of a garment factory
in Dhaka that killed more than a thousand people and exposed the way many
unprotected workers in the globalized economy are reduced to slave-labor
conditions. Bhagwati’s response to the decline in Indian calorie consumption,
which obviously reflected increased hunger and poverty, was positively Marie
Antoinette–ish: the poor were probably consuming more “rice and fruits,” and in
any case, “malnourished families should be shifting their diet to more milk and
fruits.”
It is
probably unfair to single Bhagwati out, but you can find clones of him among
ruling classes everywhere; his ideas bespeak an extraordinary callousness among
policy-makers and opinion-makers. Of course, there were many small,
under-resourced, and besieged human rights organizations in Asia, Africa, and
Latin America that struggled against the injustice and inequality generated by
neoliberal capitalism. But the well-funded human rights movement originating in
the West did not challenge any of the verities of free traders and free
marketeers, and the cruelties they perpetuated, until it was too late. Not
doing so was a severe dereliction of duty. You could argue that the human rights
movement became too much of an elite Western endeavor, naming and shaming
selectively, as David Kennedy has put it. It became too aligned with the
interests of the West’s political and corporate powers, and lost much of its
insurgent energy.
FW : Is that
particular energy being reawakened? Are we seeing a movement emerge against
overt human rights abuses by the powerful that at the same time acknowledges
how liberal ideas can actually drive injustice, whether economic or not?
PM :
I think the
answer is yes. Some of the most self-aware people in the human rights movement
are beginning to move toward a more expanded notion of their work. But most of
the necessary dissenting energy today is coming from outside large institutions
and elite networks. I think we are finding out the extent to which even some of
the best-intentioned people had adopted a complacent — and, for want of a
better word, bourgeois — outlook on the world. They are now well entrenched —
in the media and the NGOs as well as in politics and business. But they know
now, post-Trump, that their analysis doesn’t hold, and that their intellectual
hegemony has greatly weakened.
They won’t be
supplanted so easily, and they won’t change their minds too radically. But
then, I think the most promising aspect of the critique of liberalism that has
emerged in recent years is the focus on fundamental systemic change. If we
really do come anywhere close to realizing the ambitious post-liberal visions
being outlined today, if we are able to conceive of an extensive
democratization, then we won’t need the human rights movement to take up the
banner of justice and equality.
“The Liberal
Order Is the Incubator for Authoritarianism”: A Conversation with Pankaj Mishra.
By Francis
Wade. LA Review of Books , November 15, 2018.
See also
: Empire's Racketeers. Wajahat Ali speaks with Pankaj Mishra on the
devastating consequences of Western imperialism, globalization, and capitalism
and the fate of liberal democracy.
Boston Review , November 7 , 2018.
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