“While the Hindu elaborates his argument, the Moslem sharpens his sword.”
— Winston S. Churchill, speech at Albert Hall, London, 18 March 1931.
This line appears in the context of Churchill’s “Our Duty in India” speech delivered at the Royal Albert Hall on 18 March 1931, where he was discussing British India and what he saw as communal tensions between Hindus and Muslims. International Churchill Society
“Churchill by Himself: In His Own Words” (edited by Richard Langworth) lists this quotation and attributes it to the 18 March 1931 speech at Albert Hall. WMD Library
In that speech Churchill contrasted the political approach of Indian Hindu leaders—described as emphasizing argument and debate—with his characterization of Indian Muslims as more prepared for conflict, in his rhetorical framing of the communal situation in British India in the early 1930s.
Today also what, then, do we observe? In Bangladesh, members of the Hindu community have been subjected to brutal violence, including instances in which they were beaten and burned alive. Through the pervasive reach of social media, these acts have not only become visible to a global audience but have also revealed a disturbing phenomenon: mobs, driven by intense religious fanaticism, openly celebrating the violence, recording videos on mobile devices, and treating atrocity as spectacle. (Selective Silence in Bangladesh)
Selective Silence in Bangladesh
Equally striking is the silence that follows. Groups and political actors who otherwise position themselves as vocal advocates of justice—whether as sympathizers of the Palestinian cause or as those quick to invoke narratives of “Hindu terrorism” in several cases —have maintained an unwavering and conspicuous quiet on these events. Such selective moral engagement raises troubling questions about consistency, credibility, and the politicization of outrage. (Selective Silence in Bangladesh)
For those who argue that developments in Bangladesh bear no relevance to us, a reminder is necessary. Hargobind and Chandan Ghosh were sons of this very Bengal, politically under west bengal. Even if they were not subjected to immolation, they were nonetheless brutally and unjustifiably hacked to death by Muslims on this soil. Geography and borders do not erase shared histories, cultural continuities, or the moral responsibility to acknowledge violence against one’s own civilizational community.
Dipu Das has shown that this time we could have organized ourselves—but even with this opportunity, we will once again pursue our own narrow interests.
The arrest of Chinmoy Prabhu has once again stirred the collective conscience of society. After a surge of protest arose within the country, its waves have begun to spread beyond national boundaries as well.
Our fundamental problem is that we think of nothing beyond our personal interests. We are unwilling to create a shared set of rules, to abide by those rules democratically, and to organize ourselves accordingly. This reluctance exists because adherence to democracy does not allow everyone the perpetual opportunity to become a leader; leadership in a democratic system must be earned through accountability and performance, by securing the support of others through tangible work. In contrast, leaders under a system of permanent authority act solely on their own will and compel others to accept their personal views as law.
In Dipu’s case, the government has come under pressure, which may lead to his arrest. However, given the potential loopholes in the application of law, there remains a strong possibility that he will eventually be released. When that happens, we will once again sink into despair—just as we have after the arrest of Chinmoy Brahmachari.
On issues of this nature, it is essential that legal and social forms of protest be determined through hours of careful discussion among experts. No such expert group has ever existed. A clear framework is required to determine how protests should be conducted both in society at large and on social media. We possess neither such experts nor the collective will or unity to convene and act together. Instead, we have 150 organizations, 600 ascetics, and 600 separate plans. Consequently, this time as well, we are likely to descend further into frustration and disillusionment.
We fail to understand that statements must be made in accordance with the law and without attacking others—this is something neither our so-called leaders nor the general public seem to grasp. We are weak in our use of language and expression.
Because we lack an expert group of lawyers, we do not even know whether Dipu’s father or his representative has been, or will be, made a co-plaintiff in the state’s prosecution of the case involving Dipu. Such legal processes also require financial resources. We have seen various appeals and advertisements asking for donations for Dipu’s father. Yet we do not know how to integrate all these aspects into a coherent strategy—what Dipu’s father’s approach should be, or what our collective strategy ought to be—because we have no guardian figure who sustains themselves through the honoraria we offer and works selflessly on our behalf. Even if a particular lawyer represents Dipu’s father, who can guarantee that they will not be compromised? Which institution or guardian will impartially evaluate the work of genuinely expert lawyers? Opposing forces will attempt either to intimidate our representatives into withdrawal or to buy them off through inducements. At the same time, some among us will seek to expand their personal networks and accumulate wealth. Although public donations collected for Dipu should have been provided to his family, and the costs of this struggle should also have been drawn from that collective fund, do we truly possess such foresight?
We are constantly drawn into performing their version of religious practice. There exists a group that, by falling into their traps, incites us to use abusive language and inflammatory writing, while attempting to establish themselves as leaders. These individuals constitute our greatest danger. Such provocateurs neither understand our own religious traditions nor are they capable of promoting and expanding them through positive engagement or communication. By indulging in slander, gossip, and provocation, they win our approval, position themselves as our leaders, safeguard their own interests, and, more often than not, end up being compromised. Are the junior lawyers who fight in court on our behalf truly lacking in knowledge?
What we require is a single institution and a supreme guardian authority, along with one elected guardian or caretaker in every village. There is no alternative path.
Consequently, the phase of passive awareness has long been exhausted. What the present moment demands is vigilance—clear-eyed, sustained, and rooted in an honest recognition of reality.
Aritra Ghosh Dastidar
