The Congress government of Karnataka may be ruing its decision to commemorate the birth anniversary of the ruler of Mysuru at the turn of the nineteenth century, Tipu Sultan. Also known as the Tiger of Mysuru, Tipu Sultan nevertheless is a divisive historical figure in the areas he ruled and conquered. And, following the state government's commemoration, violence and tension have been reported in various parts of the state, and at least one person has died. Ramachandra Guha, the Bengaluru-based historian, has argued that a republic should not be commemorating a king anyway; but, certainly, a state-sponsored commemoration should take into account the many alternative views of his reign.
Perhaps one of the sharper statements on the subject is that of the playwright Girish Karnad, who spoke in the presence of Karnataka Chief Minister Siddaramaiah at the commemoration. Mr Karnad said that, had Tipu Sultan been Hindu, he would have been a hero in Karnataka like the Maratha leader Shivaji is in Maharashtra. This statement - which has caused some anger in Maharashtra - can be questioned, but does get to the heart of the issue: that Tipu Sultan's actions, though grounded in two-century-old politics, have become inextricably intertwined with modern India's divisions. On the one hand, Tipu Sultan was in some ways the ideal king for the Nehruvian state to remember: fiercely anti-colonial, innovative and scientific, a relentless moderniser. Within his kingdom, as Mr Karnad pointed out, he protected establishments of Hindu faith and his palace was surrounded by temples. On the other hand, his conquests were often accompanied by considerable brutality; his invasion of Kerala, for example, took on some of the features of religious war, and he himself stressed that aspect in some of his letters.
When centuries-old history - whether that of Shivaji, of Vijayanagar, of Aurangzeb, or of Tipu Sultan - is forced to take on the weight of modern politics, much of its nuance and complexity is lost. For example, many are outraged about the commemoration of Tipu Sultan's birthday at Diwali time - a time also remembered by some Iyengars as the time the ruler hanged hundreds of their community. This was reprehensible collective punishment, but may have been more political than religious - some of them were serving as messengers between the old Mysore royal house and the British. Certainly, in these conflicts over interpretation, it is never wise for the state to take a particular side. Its duty is instead to enable arguments over interpretation to take place without intimidation and threats.
Karnataka is a front-line state in the culture wars, and needs this principle - that the state must focus on security first - to be held in mind more even than most other parts of India. In Mangaluru, for example, thuggish members of the right-wing have long sought to clamp down on what they see as permissive behaviour, even going so far as to raid private parties and guest houses. The state government has not been tough enough on this vigilantism. It is in Karnataka that the rationalist M M Kalburgi was murdered, the latest in a set of murders of rationalists that was the spark for writers across India to return their state-given honours. The state is a melting pot - with westernised and globalised Bengaluru, the student-heavy towns of the west, Lingayat and Vokkaliga assertion, Islamic fundamentalism creeping in from northern Kerala, and the powerful hand of the Sangh Parivar and its ideological affiliates in several parts, too. Managing these tensions through the delivery of law and order is a full-time job, and the Siddaramaiah government is not performing it as it should. One recent incident, in which a woman was raped near Bengaluru's central Cubbon Park, caused particular concern because it threw this apparent hands-off approach to law and order into the spotlight. The newly appointed home minister was reported as questioning why the woman wanted to play tennis at 9:30 pm, although he has now said he was misquoted. It is not too late for the government to stop playing a dangerous game and to focus instead on better and more inclusive policing.
