Selective justice

Oh, the joy of learning new words. Life-changing words and phrases like “closure” and “move on”. Thus empowered, we can now deal with every tragedy. We simply find closure, and move on. How wonderful!

Apparently, sometimes there’s an odd event that triggers that “closure”. Like the recent hanging of Ajmal Kasab reportedly marked a closure for victims of the 26/11 Mumbai terror attacks. But for most of us, usually there’s something far more potent and pervasive — the culture of impunity. When justice slips further and further away, and you give up all hope of ever getting your share, you may be forced to “move on”. It does not mean there is “closure”.
Take the demolition of the Babri Masjid, 20 years ago this week. Nobody has yet been punished for the colossal crime witnessed by the nation on live television. Not the vandals who destroyed the almost 500-year-old mosque, not their leaders who meticulously planned and supervised the operation, not the goons who looted and killed during the movement. After examining evidence for 17 years, the Liberhan Commission declared that it was pre-planned and held 68 people guilty, including Hindutva honchos like Atal Behari Vajpayee, L.K. Advani, Murli Manohar Joshi, Vijayaraje Scindia, Kalyan Singh, Uma Bharti, Sadhvi Rithambara, Bal Thackeray, K.S. Sudarshan, Vinay Katiyar, Ashok Singhal and Pravin Togadia. Till now, not one leader has had to give up a public post because of this criminal act. They continue to hold public office, lead political parties, be honourable members of Parliament expounding upon right and wrong.
Not only do leaders get away with murder and other crimes, they are also worshipped for their muscle. How the nation mourned when an architect of the anti-Muslim riots in Mumbai following the Babri Masjid demolition passed away last month. Bal Thackeray, who stridently invited and justified violence against Muslims, was given a state funeral and was perhaps the only person to be paid obituary tributes both in the Lok Sabha and the Rajya Sabha, though he was never a member of Parliament. Meanwhile, Gujarat chief minister Narendra Modi, widely believed to be the architect of the 2002 massacre of Muslims in Gujarat, is lauded for “good governance” and projected as a possible Prime Minister.
Perhaps such brazen denial of justice is more shameful than razing the masjid. Because it illustrates our collective failure to protect the democratic freedoms our Constitution guarantees. And the disgraceful prioritising of public sentiment over justice. It showcases our politics of fear, our appeasement of the lynch mob as the vote bank.
Especially because there seems to be a process of tailoring truth to suit a convenient reality. The Babri Masjid’s troubles began back in 1949, when idols of Ram were smuggled into the mosque complex. The Sunni Waqf Board filed a legal protest, which was left hanging for 60 years. Then in 2010, the Allahabad high court, asked to settle the title of the site where the Babri Masjid had stood for almost 500 years, dismissed their petition as too old, and quickly declared that this was not a masjid, since it had been built by demolishing a temple. It bypassed logic and history and cited “faith” to declare that Lord Ram was born right in that disputed spot. Take a third of the land, they said to the Waqf Board, but Ram gets the land where his idol has been placed (illegally), and the Nirmohi Akhara gets the land they use for Hindu rituals around it. The demolition of the mosque was ignored. It did seem like the high court was rewarding Hindutva vandals. Going against majority sentiment in an intolerant, polarised society could be injudicious. Thankfully, our Supreme Court, the last refuge of the weary citizen, stayed the high court order.
Meanwhile, a tired civil society is eager to move on. Get on with growth and development, it moans, forget the past. Build a new future for India. It’s what we say every time there is a problem in justice delivery for the less empowered. Like religious minorities, the lower castes or women. We don’t seem to be particularly perturbed about the quality of that future where democratic rights can be violated with impunity. Where the guarantee of equality before the law vanishes and the muscular majority influences legal justice.
In a democracy, the need to move on has to be balanced with the need for justice. Sadly, that’s not what we do. Setting up endless commissions of inquiry and forgetting about them seems more our style. Practically all culprits indicted by the Nanavati Commission on the 1984 Sikh massacre, the Srikrishna Commission on the 1992-93 Bombay riots, the Liberhan Commission on the Babri Masjid demolition and other such commissions roam free. Meanwhile, the Nanavati Commission, probing the Gujarat massacres of 2002, is on its 18th extension.
Examples of justice delivery have a moral force that is lost if we are unfairly selective. We bay for capital punishment, believing — mistakenly — that it will deter terrible crimes. But it is not the severity of punishment but its certainty that works. If you know you will definitely be clapped in jail you may wish to pause before you act. Unlike when you know that though others could hang for this act, you would be protected. If we want retributive justice, it must work every time and be the same for everyone. A notional noose tied to a secret national policy to save political murderers (including killers of the idea of India) is anti-justice.
For years economic crime, even by bigwigs like in the Satyam case, has been punished. Now there is a welcome trend of jailing even ministers for politico-economic crimes like the 2G spectrum case. Can’t this be taken a step further to punish purely political crimes, especially sectarian ones? Or will all our political parties keep that one door open to sneak criminals out and smuggle in their own vote-bank politics?
Bowing to public sentiment is not conducive to justice. We must remember that, whether in the context of the Babri Masjid demolition or Afzal Guru’s hanging. Due process of law must be followed, without shortcuts or political bargaining. Because selectively hanging a convict does not make us strong. What does, is the idea of “Fiat justitia ruat caelum”. Let justice be done, though the skies may fall. Only then can there be closure. Only then can we move on as a democratic nation.

The writer is editor of The Little Magazine.