The eldest of my cats, a dignified nine-year-old tom called Tiggy, has two ways of showing displeasure. One is by relieving himself somewhere inconvenient — he is usually fastidious and perfectly toilet-trained. His other method is to ostentatiously upset his food bowl and refuse to eat, until he has been coaxed and cuddled out of the sulks.
It is odd to think that the latter, rather primitive mode of protest, was adopted, and transformed into a powerful weapon by one of the sharpest political thinkers of all time. Then again, not so odd, given the way people react to voluntary starvation undertaken by anyone other than fashion models.
Gandhiji was probably not drawing upon any knowledge of pet psychology when he evolved this then-novel method of protest. More likely, he was drawing upon religious experience. Western India is steeped in the Jain tradition of ritual fasting.
The Mahatma often fasted in the furtherance of non-negotiable demands. He was then metaphorically coaxed and cuddled into eating. People agreed to do what he wanted, since they were horrified at the thought that he felt strongly enough about something to deliberately starve.
The hunger strikes of the freedom movement in India worked because the British were among the more humane of imperialists. Civil disobedience et al would not have worked with colonial powers like the Dutch, the Germans, the Spaniards, or the Belgians. Britain has a broad-spectrum tradition of free speech and Gandhiji’s hunger-strikes were reported diligently, both in India and “back home”.
Attitudes have hardened since. In the 1980s, Ms Thatcher let several Irish Republican Army guerillas (their leader Bobby Sands was an elected member of Parliament) fast to death in prison. In Gitmo, force feeding is supposedly par for the course.
In India itself, Manipuri activist Irom Sharmila has been relentlessly force-fed ever since she started fasting in November 2000 to demand repeal of the Armed Forces Special Powers Act. Ms Sharmila has now been on hunger strike for much longer than anyone else on record.
In part, the impact of hunger strikes has been diminished by overuse. They lend themselves to ludicrous variations and they can, of course, be used to support any cause at all. The ritual rotational hunger strike is standard operating procedure for many trade unionists. It is a ridiculous spectacle with individuals gamely abstaining from food for a couple of hours. As a wit once pointed out, the average human being thrives on fasting 22 hours a day, so long as they eat three meals in between fasts.
Quite often, the psychological impact of a fast can be such that logic goes out of the window when it comes to evaluating causes. Anna Hazare’s recent dramatic advocacy of the Jan Lok Pal via hunger strike led to the Bill being fast-tracked, if that is the word for legislation pending for 40-odd years.
This would be wonderful, except that the Bill, as it is conceptualised, appears far more likely to create an alternative power centre rather than to make a serious dent in corruption. But the fine print was ignored, once Mr Hazare stopped eating.
Mr Hazare’s success has given hunger strikes a new high-profile lease of life. Baba Ramdev has now got into the act, demanding repatriation of black money stashed overseas. Presumably, more copycats will be jumping on the starvation bandwagon soon, in support of who-knows-what in the way of causes.
Our cultural attitude to this is schizophrenic. Indians adore hunger strikes and generally respond with sympathy to somebody who starves for a cause, any cause. But we are also inured to ignoring involuntary hunger on the streets every day, responding with irritation to beggars, whose ribs can be counted. Would we be more sympathetic, if instead of panhandling, they sat around Jantar Mantar claiming to be on hunger strike?
