Saturday, October 19, 2013

Solidarity. That's the key.

I've been acerbic, the last few times I've posted here. Acerbic, angry, hurt and a whole gamut of emotions that make those who wish to understand you, truly empathise, while simultaneously alienating a whole host of others who don't really care very much about the human being that you are. This time round, I've got the best shot I've had in ages, to write something that isn't going to be read as an attempt to take anybody down. And, by golly, I shall use it.

Sangeetha wrote a blog about her experience as an academic representative. It can be accessed here: http://thehinduleftist.blogspot.in/2013/10/this-is-not-rant-sob-story-cribbing.html. I do not know if I would have had the courage to write as she has, if placed in a similar situation; there is grace and honesty in her writing that I do not think I would be able to replicate. Even if nobody else bothers to take her point and introspect, I'm incredibly glad she understands; Sangeetha, after all, had nominated me for the same post in my second year.

While I have been vocally critical of some of the stuff the present academic committee has been up to, and do disagree with some of what she has said, in her blog, I want to continue with the bigger point she made about the manner in which representatives are treated in this place. Sangeetha's experiences have not been laced with the added flavour of university politics, being the alleged "mouth-piece" of certain members of faculty (because nobody here has independent judgement) and having "hotlines to bigshots", but they are startlingly similar to mine, in their minutiae. And I'd hazard the guess that they are similar to the experiences of anybody in a position of power, seeking to work earnestly, in NALSAR (if not elsewhere). And I wonder why. Across the board - student representatives, administration - we treat anybody in a position of power as a bounden slave. For the longest time, I thought that this was the "electorate's right" but that's true only if your responsibility in a democratic set-up is merely to get somebody in power and then sit down and twiddle your thumbs. If that is the case, then you're expected to take whatever the person in power does, and not complain (or be nasty). And if that is not the case (and I certainly believe that it is not), then engagement requires both sides to take responsibility. You cannot expect results when you need to engage, and fail to. You also cannot expect personal preferences to trump everybody else's, because there are way too many people and way too many preferences, for everyone to get their way. Democracy entails compromise and understanding; I think that's where we falter. We're so ensconced in our sense of entitlement that it doesn't often hit us that we're not the ones the world revolves around; the universe is not going to conspire to grant you your every little wish.

There is also a difference in Sangeetha's experiences and mine, and part of it was to do with where the nastiness was coming from. It is rare that a good friend of mine would publicly deride me and treat me like an instrument towards achieving her ends. I think the same goes with Sangeetha too. The most startling example being the fact that one person who sent innumerable mails to my batch group detailing my 'duties' (and the fact that he didn't even vote for me, and was being forced to tolerate me) stood up in vociferous defence of Sangeetha, when she was facing the heat about her own 'duties'. Being friends with a person in power makes you see them as human beings, and that makes you treat them with consideration. Now you cannot be friends with everybody who occupies some position that you need to interact with, but I really think we need to start extending to everybody who is working in positions of authority, the basic consideration of being human. And that entails recognising human frailties; it means tolerating the sudden burst of anger, the occasional snap and sometimes, the one task left unaccomplished. Once, when I was still a representative, I was arguing about similar things with Sangeetha, and she said, "What if the person in question portrays themselves to be 'more than human'?" Yes, some people find it hard to acknowledge frailty in themselves; I know I find it hard to ask for help or explain that I'm down and out and need somebody to just be nice to me. That too is frailty; the fact that a woman is strong and seems unassailable does not give you the right to rail against her with all your might, until she crumbles. Recognising people in power as being just as human as any other person, with their own stories, their own private issues, is basic; it simply must be extended to everybody, regardless of whether they actively seek it or not. If we want to be treated as human beings and be empathised with, by administrators and representatives, then we must extend to them the same courtesy.

I've pissed off too many people in law school for my words to be the cause of any sort of 'neutral' introspection; whatever I say is perceived as coming from some inherently biased position that needs to be countered immediately, not thought about. But take Sangeetha seriously; recognise the fact that we are two people who have been at loggerheads with each other (publicly) agreeing about something; please do think about it.