The Language of Secular Islam: Urdu Nationalism and Colonial India

Interview with the Book Author, Kavita S. Datla  . The Author refers to creation of a separate state of Telangana, recently approved by Congress Party, in India. Can someone familiar with Indian politics comment on it-How it will affect Muslim population and local politics? ( F.Sheikh)

Q; What is your book arguing?

My book tells the story of a set of vernacular projects in the Urdu language in the early twentieth century. It argues that the people involved in these projects were self-consciously trying to ‘modernize’ the Urdu language and make it fit for new national, and secular, purposes. Given Urdu’s associations with Muslims, these projects were simultaneously about finding a place for Muslims in the nation.

The book begins by considering the general character of education in the Hyderabad state, and the different projects of reform that were proposed by late nineteenth/early twentieth century administrators and thinkers – from a plan to create an Islamic university that would usher in a theological reformation in the larger Muslim world, to a proposal to found India’s first vernacular university. Ultimately, it was the latter that was taken up and the new university became a site for a massive project of translation, and for the unfolding of new research agendas. Many of these projects sent intellectuals sifting through the Indian past and non-Western (and especially Islamic) scholarly traditions to identify vocabularies and experiences that might be retrieved and used for a newly defined common good. Ultimately, the book tries to recover some of the tensions and debates involved in this process (as people argued about which vocabularies or traditions to draw from) and also the political impasses that they led to; the latter most dramatically in discussions with figures like Gandhi over India’s national language (Hindi, Urdu, or Hindustani). In that sense, it is as much about language as it is about the political questions opened up by Indian nationalism.

Q; My favorite chapter, if I may be so bold, is your chapter on “Muslim Pasts: Writing the History of India and the History of Islam”. In your discussion of Abdul Halim Sharar (1860-1926) and Sayyid Hashmi Faridabadi (/), you argue, convincingly, that these scholars were articulating an alternative space both in history and in historiography for Muslims (alternative to the Oriental scholarship). Could you speak to why the earliest history of Islam was so pivotal a period for these scholars and their projects?

I am both delighted and surprised to hear you say that! When I finished my dissertation, that chapter was lying on the chopping room floor. I knew that there was something there but had done an awful job developing it. That chapter was especially difficult for me to write as it took me into the (then unfamiliar) terrain of Arabic historiography.
Clearly, the time of early Islam has always been important to practicing Muslims and to Muslim scholarship. But, it is also true that in late nineteenth-century South Asia there was a heightened interest in writing about it. So, we see a proliferation of historical biographies of the Prophet, for example. In fact, Shibli’s monumental Sirat-ul nabi is produced in this period with the financial assistance of the Hyderabad government. I think there is a lot more that we could do to think about why this happened at this particular moment. This was, of course, a time when scholars in other parts of the Muslim world, like Egypt, were composing modern Prophetic siras as well. My small contribution was to look at how one series of texts on the History of Islam was constructed, to think about the choices that were available to the author as he wrote and to understand his particular narrative decisions. Clearly, Sharar was responding to western scholarship on Islam. But, he was also interested, I think, in trying to understand historical “decline”. In this, he shared a context with many other thinkers in the colonial world. It was a question that especially preoccupied Indian Muslims in the wake of the permanent displacement of the Mughal emperor and one that led them to think in terms of a model of civilizations, to which Gibbon was central. It is also striking that the Hyderabad state made the determination that there were no fitting books on the History of India or Islam that they could use in their classrooms. Clearly, history was a uniquely politicized academic subject in this period and those writing in Hyderabad had their eye on the evolving state of the field, keeping track of archaeological excavations of the Indus Valley civilization, or writings about Dravidian civilization, as well as those works being produced by European authors on the early history of Islam and the history of India.

Q; In a sense your work traces a network of British and Indian intellectuals at the early 20th century moment in Hyderabad. Simultaneously, you are also tracing the history of an institution – that is the Osmania University? Is there a tension between these two foci? What theoretical framework helps you move from the individual to the institution?

You might be surprised by how many different individuals are hailed as ‘the founder’ of Osmania University. Obviously, that is not the relationship between individual and institution to which you refer.

I think there is a tension here, but I hope that it is a productive one. On the one hand, the archives themselves seemed to suggest a project on Osmania University, as it was so important to education in the state and had effects that rippled out into the countryside. But I also wanted to get more involved in the challenges that the institution was trying to address, and one way to do this was to work through the many publications of the individuals associated with it. So there was an element of intellectual history here, an attempt to understand why certain concepts, like that of the vernacular, became particularly and peculiarly loaded at the turn of the twentieth century. The focus on the trajectories of scholars associated with the institution also allowed me to write about the larger political debates that characterized this period, and to do so in a way that the dilemmas resonated to readers today. But ultimately, I was also interested in finding out as much as I could about how these intellectual debates came to shape the system of education in the state and therefore also affected a larger public. So, in the last chapter, I look at some of the statements made by students during the course of a protest movement, trying to take their ideas about language and religion seriously. Osmania University continues to be a nerve center for political movements, today for a separate state of Telangana, and it is important to think seriously about the (not identical) political motivations that have inspired these movements in different periods. Click link for full article;

http://www.chapatimystery.com/archives/univercity/xqs_ii_a_conversation_with_kavita_saraswathi_datla.html

Is There A European Culture ?

Does Europe Exist ? By Enda O’ Doherty

The Hungarian philosopher Agnes Heller, in a chapter she contributed to a book published in 1992, stated with some confidence her view that there was no such thing as European culture. There was certainly, she wrote, Italian and German music, and Florentine and Venetian painting, “but there is no European music and no European painting”.

It is true that the history of art and culture was not really Heller’s field, but it would seem that those who, in the same year as she wrote her essay, framed the Maastricht Treaty, signalling the transition from European Community to European Union, at least partially agreed with her. The treaty was the first time the community had taken for itself significant powers in the cultural field. European cultures (note the plural), the relevant article stated, were to be understood as requiring “respect” – by which one understands freedom from too much supranational interference (“The Community shall contribute to the flowering of the cultures of the Member States, while respecting their national and regional diversity …”). At the same time however, the Community was to be entrusted with the task of “[b]ringing the common cultural heritage to the fore”.

As with most negotiated texts, there is a compromise lurking here, or possibly a contradiction. First, cultures are to be understood as national (and grudgingly, just a little bit regional); they are even perhaps what define nations, the particular set of practices and inheritances which the Dutch, or the Germans, or the Portuguese have by virtue of their nationality, the thing that they have and no other nation has –that Dutch, that Portuguese thing. And yet it seems, according to Maastricht, that there is also a common cultural heritage which belongs equally to the Dutch and the Germans and the Portuguese. But what is this heritage? Is it something made up of a little bit of everywhere sort of tacked together (“the Europe of Dante, Shakespeare and Goethe” perhaps, to which statesmen like to pay obeisance in their speeches before quickly passing on to more important matters)? Or could it be something more mysterious, something actually European?

In all probability the form of words used in Article 128 (now Article 151) of the Maastricht Treaty arose from a conflict between national, or nationalist, sensitivity, some mildly separatist or regionalist traditions and supranational idealism, or, if you like, Brussels overreaching. In the current balance of power in the union the first tends to be stronger than any of the others. When the French talk of culture they mean Racine, while the Italians mean Petrarch and Dante. They may also of course be “convinced Europeans”, in which case they will wish to share Racine, or Petrarch and Dante, with all their neighbours. Of a putative European culture they will ask “How much of ours will get in?”

Interestingly, Agnes Heller thought that while there never had been a European culture there might well be one in the future, a position she perhaps derived from her intellectual background in Marxism-Leninism, which as we know regarded man as a plastic creature who could be moulded (for his own good) by engineers of the human soul into something more satisfactory than his current self. And so a person who today feels completely and satisfyingly Lithuanian might well one day, if acted upon by well-crafted and inspiring supranational cultural influences, feel more European than anything else. Click link for full article;

http://www.drb.ie/essays/does-europe-exist-

Posted By F. Sheikh

‘Star Dust Memories’ By Maureen Dowd

‘My Lunches With Orson’ and ‘Ava Gardner: The Secret Conversations’

If you are fan of watching old movies at TCM ( Turner Classic Movie Channel), you will enjoy reading about two Hollywood  giants of their time, Orson and Ava Garner. (F. Sheikh)

Ava Gardner was “essential to the Hollywood myth about itself,” as her friend Dirk Bogarde observed, and so was Orson Welles. Orson was “his own greatest production,” as the Hollywood chronicler Peter Biskind writes, and so was Ava.

Two new books — “My Lunches With Orson” and “Ava Gardner: The Secret Conversations” — unearth vintage conversations with the stars in their final years, when they were broke, in bad health, unable to get work and mourning their lost grandeur. But oh, what gorgeous wrecks they were, and what mesmerizing stories they told, these Sunset Boulevard Scheherazades.

Even washed up and so heavy and arthritic he had to use a wheelchair, the 68-year-old Welles knew he was more interesting than anyone else in Hollywood. So he asked his pal Henry Jaglom, an indie filmmaker, to tape their lunch conversations at Ma Maison — with his ill-tempered toy poodle Kiki at the table — discussions that indolently roamed from chicken salad capers to chic romantic capers. The tapes span 1983 to 1985, when Welles died of a heart attack with a typewriter in his lap writing a script; they languished in a shoe box for years until Biskind learned about them in the 1990s and started bugging Jaglom to transcribe and publish them.

In 1988, living on her own in London, recovering from a couple of strokes and fearing she had pulmonary emphysema, Gardner asked the British journalist Peter Evans to ghostwrite her memoir. She had no money and didn’t want to sell the jewels that Frank Sinatra, Howard Hughes and other famous men had lavished on her. “Pretty damn soon,” she frets to Evans, “there’s gonna be no corn in Egypt, baby.”

Both books make you feel as if you’re eavesdropping, the one about Ava in a more invasive way. Unlike the chummy rambling chats between Welles and Jaglom, Gardner was in a constant tug of war with Evans, agonizing in vinous 3 a.m. phone calls, as he surreptitiously took notes, about whether she really wanted “strangers digging around in my panties drawer.”

Watching this Venus ply her mind games, sensuality and stubborn will on Evans, it’s easy to imagine what it was like to be a love object jerked on her marionette strings in her prime. You wouldn’t have a chance.

“You can sum up my life in a sentence, honey,” she tells Evans in her throaty voice. “She made movies, she made out and she made a [expletive] mess of her life. But she never made jam.”

Some of the colorful stories Welles tells have appeared elsewhere, with sharper aperçus. But what makes “Lunches With Orson” appealing is the piquancy of the much younger, skinnier actor and director taking on the Sisyphean job of reviving the Falstaffian outcast — a mitzvah another Welles interviewer and acolyte, Peter Bogdanovich, didn’t bother with, Welles thought, when Bogdanovich was on top.

Even maudlin, Welles and Gardner are magnificent. “A lot of booze has flowed under the bridgework,” Ava says.

Both hit the big time as teenagers, Boy Genius and Girl Vamp, landing Time covers in their 20s. They had in common a bawdy honesty, a desire to shock and a lust for living extravagantly.

The lion and lioness in winter are poignant. The cosmopolitan man who made “Citizen Kane” could not get financing to make a movie. The green-eyed woman who dazzled in Technicolor in “The Barefoot Contessa” was drinking, smoking, coughing and listening to old Sinatra-Tommy Dorsey recordings that Sinatra sent her after her strokes.

“Who’d have thought the highlight of my day is walking the dog,” dryly notes Gardner, who once danced all night and then began drinking Dom Pérignon in the studio makeup room at 5 a.m. “I miss Frank,” she says, even the fights. She knows he will outlive her: “Bastards are always the best survivors.” Click link for full article;

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/07/14/books/review/my-lunches-with-orson-and-ava-gardner-the-secret-conversations.html?pagewanted=1&hp

Awaiting A New Darwin

Shared by Suhail Rizvi

The history of science is partly the history of an idea that is by now so familiar that it no longer astounds: the universe, including our own existence, can be explained by the interactions of little bits of matter. We scientists are in the business of discovering the laws that characterize this matter. We do so, to some extent at least, by a kind of reduction. The stuff of biology, for instance, can be reduced to chemistry and the stuff of chemistry can be reduced to physics.

Thomas Nagel has never been at ease with this view. Nagel, University Professor of Philosophy and Law at New York University, is one of our most distinguished philosophers. He is perhaps best known for his 1974 paper, “What Is It Like to Be a Bat?,” a modern classic in the philosophy of mind. In that paper, Nagel argued that reductionist, materialist accounts of the mind leave some things unexplained. And one of those things is what it would actually feel like to be, say, a bat, a creature that navigates its environment via the odd (to us) sense of echolocation. To Nagel, then, reductionist attempts to ground everything in matter fail partly for a reason that couldn’t be any nearer to us: subjective experience. While not denying that our conscious experiences have everything to do with brains, neurons, and matter, Nagel finds it hard to see how these experiences can be fully reduced with the conceptual tools of physical science.

In Mind and Cosmos, Nagel continues his attacks on reductionism. Though the book is brief its claims are big. Nagel insists that the mind-body problem “is not just a local problem” but “invades our understanding of the entire cosmos and its history.” If what he calls “materialist naturalism” or just “materialism” can’t explain consciousness, then it can’t fully account for life since consciousness is a feature of life. And if it can’t explain life, then it can’t fully account for the chemical and physical universe since life is a feature of that universe. Subjective experience is not, to Nagel, some detail that materialist science can hand-wave away. It’s a deal breaker. Nagel believes that any future science that grapples seriously with the mind-body problem will be one that is radically reconceived.

http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2013/feb/07/awaiting-new-darwin/?pagination=false